Chapter 7
The first week was a slow, unraveling punishment neither of them dared to name.
Rhaenyra didn’t text.
Alicent didn’t try.
They stopped existing in each other’s orbit — not with fire, not with a blowout, but with something far colder. Like someone had cut the cord between them in the middle of the night and neither of them had the energy to tie it back together.
Classes passed like static. The same hallways, the same lectures, the same walks across campus—but with one less heartbeat beside her. Alicent’s world dulled at the edges, like something was missing in the coloring. Something pink, loud, smug, and insufferable. Something she’d grown used to leaning into.
She didn’t even realize how often she’d looked over her shoulder, how often her eyes searched for white-blonde hair until she caught herself doing it. Again.
And Rhaenyra?
Rhaenyra smiled through it all.
Laughing with her usual crew, tossing her head back like everything was fine. Maybe it was. Maybe it always had been, for her. Maybe Alicent had just been another mistake in a long line of indulgences.
But the silence between them was deafening.
Not one message. Not one check-in.
Not even a fucking emoji.
Criston noticed. Of course he did.
“You haven’t laughed in a week,” he said on Thursday, tapping his spoon against her untouched yogurt. “That can’t be healthy.”
“I laughed yesterday,” she muttered.
“Did you?” He raised an eyebrow. “I can't recall?”
Alicent flinched, just slightly. “Criston”
The words didn’t taste right.
Not when she remembered hands on her hips, fingers in her hair, lips on her neck.
Not when she remembered that night—half-asleep, and Rhaenyra’s stunned face staring down at her after she said it. I’m in love with you.
She didn’t remember anything after that.
Didn’t know if it mattered.
By the second week, Rhaenyra was everywhere.
Sitting at new tables. Flirting too openly. Loud in every space she entered.
She’d taken up with Jason Lannister of all people—arrogant, shiny-smiled, clearly posturing every time he touched the small of her back.
It was enough to make Alicent nauseous.
And of course, people talked.
“She’s glowing,” someone said.
“New alpha?” another guessed.
Criston didn’t say anything when she started drinking more coffee than usual. He just sat next to her in silence, letting the hum of campus noise fill the gaps Rhaenyra used to occupy.
And still—there were the stares.
Lingering. Curious. Heavy.
Some of them came from alphas who must’ve caught wind of something. A few had the gall to approach.
“So… her and Lannister, huh?” one asked, biting into a croissant. “Guess that means she’s single again?”
“She was never dating,” Alicent repeated, quieter this time.
Less bitter. More resigned.
Like she was trying to convince herself.
By the end of the second week, her stomach felt permanently knotted.
Rhaenyra was laughing in the quad, arm linked with Jason’s, looking light, unbothered, like Alicent had never meant anything.
The cafeteria was unusually quiet that Friday. Criston was late. Or maybe he wasn’t coming. Alicent sat alone, picking the crust off her sandwich with a dazed look in her eyes. She hadn’t slept well in days.
And then—
“Hey.”
Her head snapped up.
Frida.
Wearing an oversized hoodie, hair up in a claw clip, iced coffee in hand.
Her voice was soft. Her eyes unreadable.
There was a time that voice used to make her heart race.
Now, it only reminded her of what she used to run from.
“Hey,” Alicent said, blinking. Offering a half-smile.
Frida sat across from her like nothing had happened. Like they hadn’t spent months avoiding each other. Like there hadn’t been heartbreak tucked under every conversation they left unfinished.
They sat in silence for a minute. It wasn’t awkward. It was… cautious.
Comfortable in that way old lovers sometimes are — when enough time has passed to dull the sting, but not enough to erase the memory.
Across the room, Rhaenyra turned her head.
A flicker. Just a glance.
Alicent didn’t move. Didn’t flinch.
But she felt it.
The heat of it. The question in Rhaenyra’s eyes. The slight twist in her jaw before she turned back to Jason and laughed at something he said.
Frida followed her gaze, then looked back at Alicent. “You free this weekend?”
Alicent took a sip of her now-warm coffee. “Maybe.”
By the third week, things had… settled.
Or at least rearranged themselves into something that looked like normal.
Alicent was spending more time with Frida.
It wasn’t like before. It wasn’t flirting or hope or the buzz of potential—it was quieter now. Softer. Something like an echo of what they used to be. They studied together in the library, shared lunch on the quad, sometimes even walked back to the dorms in easy silence. Frida didn’t ask questions. She didn’t push. And for now, that was enough.
Criston noticed, of course.
He’d given her a long look the second time he saw them together. Said nothing, just raised his eyebrows like he was waiting for a confession that never came. When she didn’t offer anything, he dropped it—but only after muttering something about "ghosts getting second chances.”
Alicent rolled her eyes and left it alone.
Rhaenyra, though…
Rhaenyra had changed.
Not in any loud or dramatic way. No scenes. No messy hallway arguments. No thrown drinks or texted accusations.
She just… faded.
Still with Jason. Still clinging to him like a lifeline at social events, walking next to him between classes, always within arm’s reach. She even laughed when he made jokes—still made those sweeping, arrogant gestures like she was amused. Still curled her lips into that lazy, infuriating smile.
But it wasn’t the same.
Something in her had dimmed.
The dark circles under her eyes deepened. Her posture slouched. She seemed distant even while surrounded by people. And every now and then—between a joke or in the middle of class—her gaze would land on Alicent.
Never for long. Never when Jason noticed.
But long enough to twist something in Alicent’s gut.
She tried not to care.
She really did.
But when Rhaenyra walked past her and Criston on Monday, her skin pale and lips chewed raw, eyes shadowed and distracted, Alicent barely suppressed the urge to reach for her.
Rhaenyra didn’t say a word. Just glanced at her—one brief, unreadable flick of her gaze—before continuing down the hall.
Criston, ever the tactless one, waited a beat and muttered, “Gods. You think she’s pregnant or something?”
Alicent stared at him. “What?”
“I’m kidding,” he said quickly, raising his hands in mock surrender. “It’s probably her heat coming. Some omegas get like… weird about it. You know. Hormones. Mood swings. That stuff.”
Alicent looked away. “Glad Jason will be there to help her through it.”
She tried to sound neutral. She really did. But something about the words tasted like copper on her tongue.
Criston side-eyed her, then laughed. “Right. Sure you are.”
Alicent didn’t answer.
She hated the thought of it.
Jason’s hands on her. Jason’s smug, entitled smile. Jason whispering something against her skin, and Rhaenyra laughing like it didn’t make her sick.
But what right did she have?
By Wednesday, things shifted again.
Rhaenyra stopped showing up altogether.
No one really commented on it at first. It was midterm season—people disappeared sometimes. Burnout was normal. Especially for someone like her, always in the spotlight, always dragging shadows behind her like a cape.
But after two days, the rumors started.
Jason was still on campus, still joking with friends, still saying she “wasn’t feeling well” when asked. But he didn’t look worried. Not really. Just annoyed.
Frida nudged Alicent in the library that afternoon, whispering, “Did something happen between them? Jason looks like someone canceled his spotlight.”
Alicent just hummed and pretended to read.
She didn’t know what to say.
Didn’t know why it mattered.
Only that every hour Rhaenyra didn’t appear, something in her felt off-kilter. Unsteady. Like the world had tilted just slightly, and no one else had noticed.
By Friday, Rhaenyra hadn’t been seen in few days.
Alicent caught herself staring at her empty desk in political theory.
Her empty seat at the back of the student bar.
Her name, still on the group project sign-up, untouched.
And still—no one said anything.
Criston filled the silence like he always did. Frida started texting her more often. Life went on.
But beneath it all, Alicent could feel it.
That quiet ache. That unanswered beat between two people who had fallen out of rhythm.
And it wasn’t just about the confession anymore.
It was everything.
The silence.
The absence.
The knowledge that for the first time in weeks, Rhaenyra was not just pretending she was okay.
The message came on a Monday morning, sharp and unexpected.
Delivered at 9:00 a.m. exactly.
One word. One name-less, emotionless command that still managed to knock the breath from Alicent’s chest.
Come.
She stared at it like it was a ghost.
A whisper from somewhere she had been trying desperately to seal off. To forget. To bury.
The phone screen glowed bright in her hand. Mocking her.
She didn’t answer.
At 10:00 a.m., during lecture, she stared at the message again—her eyes burning holes into it while the professor’s voice washed over her, distant and meaningless. She didn’t take notes. Didn’t blink. She just held her phone in her lap, thumb hovering over the keyboard, unsure whether she wanted to reply or throw it out the window.
At 11:00, during a smoke break with Criston, she opened it again.
He was talking—probably about some class or some girl, or maybe something about the weird smell coming from the communal kitchen—but she barely registered any of it. The message kept echoing in her head. Like a heartbeat. Like a ghost.
Come.
She didn’t say a word.
At 12:00, during lunch, Frida was sitting across from her, nudging her tray closer, trying to get her to eat. “You’ve barely touched it.”
Alicent smiled vaguely, mumbled something about not being hungry.
She wasn’t. She was nauseous. And her hands were cold.
Her phone vibrated again at 1:00 p.m.
This time it wasn’t a command.
It was something else.
Please.
Just that.
Nothing more.
That word cut deeper than the first.
It sat in her chest like a weight.
Because Rhaenyra didn’t beg. Not for anything. Not for her.
And something in Alicent cracked.
Fifteen minutes later, she was parking her car a street away from the mansion, in that same little spot she always used when she was pretending they weren’t that close. When she didn’t want to be seen. When the lines were still blurred enough to deny.
She sat behind the wheel for a moment, engine still ticking with the heat of the drive, her hands trembling slightly against the leather. Her heart was pounding so hard she thought it might bruise her ribs.
She had sworn she wouldn’t do this. That she wouldn’t let one word—one text—undo all the weeks she had spent trying to survive without her.
But here she was anyway.
The walk up the hill felt heavier than usual.
The Targeryen estate loomed like it always had: opulent, cold, too big for a single family. She knew the way to the back entrance by heart. Knew which window not to pass by unless she wanted the old housekeeper to see her. Knew where the loose stone was on the path, the one that would always catch her heel if she wasn’t paying attention.
She was paying attention now.
Everything in her felt tense and pulled tight—like a bowstring about to snap.
She didn’t knock when she reached the door. Just opened it, like she always used to, and stepped inside the dim hallway. The house was quiet. The kind of quiet that wasn’t peaceful. The kind of quiet that screamed.
“Rhaenyra?” she called softly, the echo of her voice swallowed up by the thick silence.
No answer. But she didn’t expect one.
Her feet moved on their own. Up the stairs. Past the library. Left at the hallway with the ugly vase.
Second door. The one that always stuck a little unless you leaned your shoulder into it.
She pushed it open.
Rhaenyra was there.
Sitting on the edge of her bed, barefoot, still in what looked like yesterday’s clothes. A soft black tank top and wrinkled pajama pants, hair messy, eyes darker than ever. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days.
And when she lifted her head to look at Alicent, it wasn’t defiance or arrogance or sarcasm waiting in her gaze.
It was something closer to hollow relief.
“…You came,” she said, voice hoarse. Dry.
Alicent stood in the doorway, unable to speak.
Unable to breathe, almost.
She nodded, barely.
They stared at each other. Seconds passed like hours.
Rhaenyra’s jaw clenched. Her eyes flicked down to Alicent’s hands, then back up. “You didn’t answer.”
“I didn’t know if I should,” Alicent said finally, quietly.
Rhaenyra scoffed softly. “That makes two of us.”
The silence returned. It felt loud this time.
And then Rhaenyra’s shoulders sagged, her face breaking with something like exhaustion. She looked away, toward the window.
“Just… don’t go. Not yet.”
Alicent didn’t move. But her voice, when it came, cracked:
“I didn’t come here to fight.”
“Good,” Rhaenyra murmured, rubbing at her face. “Because I’m too tired for that.”
Alicent stepped forward then. One step. Then another. Until she was close enough to see the fine tremble in Rhaenyra’s hands.
She wanted to say something. Anything.
Ask what happened. Why she looked like this. Why she sent for her after three weeks of silence and stares and bitter space.
But all she said was:
“I missed you.”
And Rhaenyra—gods, she looked like she might cry.
But she didn’t.
They didn’t say much after that.
Alicent stood there, her hand still held in Rhaenyra’s, caught somewhere between a hundred questions and the ache of finally being near her again. Rhaenyra looked exhausted—truly worn down to the bone—but there was a flush high on her cheeks now, color that hadn’t been there when Alicent first walked in. A tremble in her shoulders. Her breaths were a little uneven.
Alicent's brows drew together, uncertain. “You don’t look well,” she said softly.
Rhaenyra gave a small laugh, but it was dry, humorless. She tilted her head back, eyes fluttering closed like she was trying to gather strength just to say the next thing. Her throat worked around the words.
“My heat started,” she whispered, like it was something shameful. “Yesterday. I thought I could manage, but it’s worse this time. It hurts.”
That was when it hit her.
Alicent blinked, suddenly aware of the heavy warmth clinging to the air between them. That scent—thick, golden, spiced and sweet and sharp all at once—she hadn't noticed it before, not with everything else clouding her mind. But now it filled her lungs like smoke, like honey poured down the back of her throat. Her own body tensed before she could stop it.
“Oh,” she breathed.
Rhaenyra opened her eyes. They were glazed, dark at the edges, pupils blown wide.
“You didn’t notice,” she said, a crooked smile forming on her lips, faint but unmistakable. “That’s how far gone we are, huh?”
Alicent swallowed, the weight of it settling behind her ribs. “Rhaenyra…”
But Rhaenyra stepped closer.
She took Alicent’s hands—still cold from outside—and lifted them slowly, deliberately, placing them on her chest, over the thin fabric of her tank top. Her skin was fever-warm. Her heart beat fast, frantic beneath her palm.
“You still owe me,” Rhaenyra said, voice low, almost teasing. “From that one time. In the car.”
Alicent’s breath caught.
She remembered. That drive. That dare. That moment that had hung between them like a wire strung too tight to touch again. They’d never talked about it. Never had to. It had just become one of those things—untouched, unspoken, a ghost in every glance since.
Rhaenyra’s hands stayed over hers, holding her there.
“Remember?” she whispered.
Alicent’s heart thundered in her chest, torn between instinct and uncertainty.
But Rhaenyra didn’t push further. Didn’t lean in. She just stood there, shivering slightly, eyes searching Alicent’s face for something—an answer, maybe. A yes. A no. A reason not to fall apart completely.
Alicent’s thumbs moved slightly against her skin—soothing, anchoring. She didn’t know what she was doing. Or maybe she did, deep down.
“I missed you,” she said again.
Rhaenyra leaned forward, resting her forehead against Alicent’s shoulder, her breath hot and shaky.
Alicent pulled her hands away like she’d touched fire.
The warmth faded from her palms almost instantly, but not the weight of the contact, not the way Rhaenyra had looked at her—as if she was the only tether she had left.
“You said,” Alicent started, her voice low, almost hurt, “you said you didn’t want to do this anymore. With me.”
Rhaenyra blinked, the flush in her cheeks sharpening into something colder. She scoffed, biting down a sound like a laugh that never made it out.
“I still mean it.”
“Then why,” Alicent snapped, her voice cracking, “are you asking this from me?”
There was a beat of silence, heavy and sharp. Rhaenyra looked at her like she’d just asked the dumbest question in the universe. Her brows knit together, and her jaw tensed, her mouth falling open slightly with disbelief.
“Oh, I don’t know, Alicent,” she snapped. “Would it please you more if I called Jason instead?”
Alicent blinked. Her face dropped. Her whole body stiffened like someone had just smacked her.
“What the fuck?” she whispered.
Rhaenyra was breathing harder now, the flush in her face no longer just from heat. “You asked why I’m asking you, and I’m giving you an answer. You don’t want to help, fine. I’ll find someone who will.”
“You mean Jason,” Alicent shot back, her voice rising now. “You’ve been practically glued to him for two weeks.”
Rhaenyra’s eyes narrowed. “And you’ve been hanging out with Frida.”
“So what?” Alicent snapped. “At least I’m not pretending I’m in love with someone while parading around with someone else.”
That hit like a slap.
Rhaenyra’s mouth opened, but no words came out.
Alicent’s arms crossed tight over her chest. Her fingers dug into her skin. “I saw you with him. Every day. Laughing like you hadn’t just walked out of my fucking life.”
“You think it was easy for me?” Rhaenyra shot back, stepping forward. “You think I wanted this? You didn’t talk to me either, Alicent. You ran off with Criston and smoked through half your classes like it didn’t matter.”
“Because you made me feel like I didn’t matter!” Alicent yelled.
They were too loud now. Voices rising like they always did when everything went too far. But neither stopped.
“Is that what Frida’s for, then?” Rhaenyra asked, bitter. “Your little rebound? You always did like it when someone made you feel like the good girl.”
“And you always liked it when someone chased you,” Alicent hissed. “Guess Jason finally figured that out.”
Rhaenyra flinched, her mouth a tight line.
Silence crashed between them again. This time it was different—meaner. Brittle and sharp.
Alicent’s chest heaved with each breath. She looked away first, her jaw clenched, teeth grinding.
“I didn’t come here for this,” she muttered.
Rhaenyra didn’t say anything. Her eyes still locked on her like she was trying to memorize the shape of her before she vanished again.
“Then why did you come?” Rhaenyra finally asked.
Alicent looked back at her. And there was so much in that gaze—anger, confusion, fear, something deeper too. Something Rhaenyra wasn’t sure she could name anymore.
“I don’t know,” Alicent whispered.
Rhaenyra’s face twisted.
She stepped back, hands balling into fists at her sides, her body shaking with the effort of holding everything in. Or maybe not holding it in at all.
“I said I didn’t want to fuck with friends anymore,” she snapped, voice cracking under the weight of it, “because I wanted you to ask me to date you, Alicent!”
Alicent froze.
Rhaenyra laughed bitterly, one hand raking through her mess of silver-blonde hair. “You don’t get it, do you? You never fucking get it. I didn’t stop because I didn’t want you—I stopped because I only wanted you. But no, gods forbid Alicent fucking Hightower say anything real. You just drift off to Frida, to Criston, like you were never in it at all.”
“That’s not fair,” Alicent whispered, but Rhaenyra barreled over it.
“I waited. I gave you space. I gave you time to figure out what you wanted. I thought—fuck—I thought maybe you’d choose me if I stopped making it easy for you. But you didn’t, did you? You just walked away. And then what, now you’re here again, and I’m supposed to pretend it didn’t kill me every day to see you laughing with Criston, to hear your voice in the hallway and know it wasn’t for me anymore?”
“I didn’t know how to ask,” Alicent said, but it was small, lost under Rhaenyra’s fury.
“You didn’t even try, Ali!” Rhaenyra shouted. “You just let it rot between us like none of it meant anything. And now you’re standing here acting like I’m the one who’s cruel?”
Alicent’s chest tightened. Her eyes were glassy now, mouth trembling with words she couldn’t push out. Her nails dug into her arms, grounding herself, steadying herself against the flood of Rhaenyra’s pain.
Rhaenyra’s breathing was ragged, eyes gleaming with unshed tears, rage radiating off her like heat. “I wanted you to fucking fight for me.”
The room felt like it was caving in.
And then it snapped.
Alicent surged forward, grabbing Rhaenyra by the collar of her shirt, and kissed her. Hard.
It wasn’t sweet or soft or careful. It was bruising and angry and desperate. It was months of everything unsaid, everything ruined, everything neither of them could take back, crashing into the space between them like lightning.
Rhaenyra gasped against her mouth, but didn’t pull away. Her hands gripped Alicent’s shoulders like she might fall without them, and kissed her back just as fiercely.
There was hurt in it. A storm. The kind of kiss that left no one whole.
When they broke apart, both of them were breathless.
Rhaenyra’s lips were red. Her eyes wide, angry still—but flickering, confused.
Alicent’s forehead pressed against hers. “I'm sorry,” she whispered. “Truly.”
Rhaenyra didn’t answer. Not with words.
But she didn’t move away.
Alicent’s fingers tangled in the collar of Rhaenyra’s shirt, pulling her in again—lips crashing, breath uneven. Rhaenyra kissed her back just as desperately, hands fisting in the fabric at Alicent’s waist, like neither of them had learned how to be gentle with each other anymore. It was heat and hunger and weeks of silence between every breath.
Alicent broke away just enough to mutter, “I hated seeing you with him.”
Rhaenyra’s lips were red, her eyes still glassy from the adrenaline. “Then why didn’t you say anything?”
“I shouldn’t have had to,” Alicent whispered, then kissed her again—slower this time, but no less deep. Her hands cupped Rhaenyra’s jaw, thumbs brushing against flushed skin. “You knew what it would do to me.”
“You were with Frida,” Rhaenyra said, voice shaking against her mouth.
Alicent sighed into the kiss. “I just didn’t want to be alone.”
They paused. Heavy breath, bodies pressed too close, too much not to be overwhelmed by it.
“I’m not fucking Jason,” Rhaenyra whispered, almost defensively. “He just—he was there.”
Alicent kissed her again. Fierce. Needy. “I don’t care if you did or didn’t,” she said, resting her forehead against Rhaenyra’s. “I just never want to see anyone else touching you like that again.”
Rhaenyra blinked up at her, dazed. “Why?”
“Because you’re mine,” Alicent whispered, lips brushing hers with the words. “Right??”
Rhaenyra closed her eyes for a second like the words hurt—like they healed.
The kiss that followed was slow, burning. Rhaenyra moaned softly into it, her hands finding Alicent’s back, nails dragging lightly down her spine. Their hips pressed together—friction building, air charged.
Alicent spoke between kisses, low and breathless. “I hated being apart from you.”
Rhaenyra nodded against her lips. “I know.”
“You looked so happy,” Alicent confessed, voice breaking slightly. “With him.”
“I was pretending,” Rhaenyra said quickly, gasping as Alicent’s mouth found her neck. “It was nothing. It was always nothing.”
Their bodies rolled together on the bed, tangled legs and clothing half-forgotten. Rhaenyra arched into her touch, breath catching.
“I'm sorry,” Alicent said, kissing her shoulder, then her collarbone. “for being so- .”
“Okay,” Rhaenyra whispered, gripping Alicent’s sides. “It's okay”
“I’m asking now,” Alicent said, cupping her face. “I’m begging. Just—date me.”
Rhaenyra pulled her in and kissed her, deep and slow, like a promise. “Yes.”
Rhaenyra’s breath hitched in the quiet as she watched Alicent, her eyes roaming the other girl’s face like she was memorizing something sacred. Her own lips were still swollen from their kiss, her cheeks flushed from more than just the heat of the room. Her voice, when she spoke, came low—drawling, dangerous only because of how soft it was:
“You can have me any way you want.”
The words sliced through the tension, sending a visible tremor through Alicent’s shoulders. Her jaw clenched. Her hands, which had been still on the mattress, fisted the sheets as if grounding herself. She blinked at Rhaenyra, disarmed—flustered in a way she never let herself be.
Rhaenyra smiled slowly. That smirk, infuriating and mesmerizing all at once. She was already shifting upright on the bed, eyes never leaving Alicent’s face. There was nothing coy about the way she moved. Nothing hesitant.
Then, calmly—so casually it was maddening—she reached down, caught the hem of her own shirt, and pulled it over her head.
The fabric slipped off in one motion. Her hair tumbled down around her bare shoulders. The light caught the slope of her collarbones, the curve of her waist, the faint lines and marks that had been left there before—some fading, some fresh. Her breathing was steady, but her eyes told another story. They sparkled with anticipation, with defiance, with something deeper buried beneath.
Alicent just stared.
“You’re blushing,” Rhaenyra said softly, teasing. “Isn’t that cute.”
“Shut up,” Alicent muttered, barely above a whisper, but her voice was strained, too taut with emotion. Her gaze flicked down, just once, then back up to Rhaenyra’s face like she was afraid to look any longer.
Alicent’s breath hitched, but the hesitation didn’t last. Not this time.
They had crossed this line before—dozens of times. In dorm rooms and cars and places they shouldn’t have. But it had never been like this. Never after all that had been said. Never after everything that had been broken and laid bare.
There was no more pretending Rhaenyra wasn’t hers. That knowledge was thunder in Alicent’s chest, steady and undeniable.
She reached for Rhaenyra again—not trembling now, not unsure. She kissed her, slow but with possession in every press of her lips. Then lower. Down the curve of her throat, across her collarbone, soft at first. Then deeper. A mark here, a mark there. A quiet trail that burned as it moved down her stomach, lingering, teasing—worshipful.
Rhaenyra arched, one hand sliding into Alicent’s hair. “Ali…”
She kissed just below Rhaenyra’s navel, tongue slow and deliberate, then lower, dragging out every second like it mattered. And it did. It mattered more than either of them could say.
Alicent didn’t look away.
Rhaenyra’s breath was unsteady, chest rising and falling as if the air itself hurt to breathe. She looked ruined already—eyes glassy, lips swollen from kisses that had lasted hours and lifetimes all at once.
Alicent hovered there for a beat—just watching her, eyes heavy, mouth parted. Not teasing. Just taking her in. Like she still didn’t quite believe this was real. That Rhaenyra had given in. Given up. Given herself.
She was between Rhaenyra’s legs, eyes dark, breath shallow, and her hands gripped tight at her thighs like she’d been holding back for weeks and finally gave in. Rhaenyra was already flushed, already wrecked from the buildup, but Alicent didn’t ease into it.
She lowered her mouth and tasted her.
The first drag of her tongue made Rhaenyra twitch, gasp, one hand flying to Alicent’s hair, fingers tangling and pulling without thinking. Alicent didn’t mind. She only pressed in deeper, tongue stroking in slow, firm movements that turned every breath Rhaenyra took into a low moan.
Her pace was steady—deliberate. Nothing rushed, nothing showy. Just focused attention. The kind that made it impossible to think about anything else. Rhaenyra’s hips shifted, legs tightening around her shoulders, but Alicent held her down, one hand sliding under her thigh to anchor her in place.
She looked up once, eyes meeting Rhaenyra’s briefly—dark, unreadable, intense—and then she went back to her.
She licked, sucked, kissed like she wanted to memorize her all over again. The room felt too warm, air too thick, Rhaenyra’s heartbeat loud in her ears. She tried to say something, maybe a warning, maybe just her name, but nothing came out but a choked whimper.
Alicent kept going.
A flick of her tongue. A soft hum that vibrated against her. Her fingers digging into skin like she needed something to hold onto.
Rhaenyra’s head tipped back into the pillows, her spine arching with a sharp inhale. And when she came—quiet, trembling, breath shuddering—it wasn’t loud or dramatic. It was real. Like she’d let go of something she'd been holding too tightly for too long.
Alicent didn’t say anything when she pulled away.
She just rested her head against Rhaenyra’s thigh, chest rising and falling fast, eyes closed for a beat like she needed a second to come back to herself. Her lips were parted, skin flushed, hair a mess, and she looked almost peaceful.
Rhaenyra reached down, brushing her fingers gently through her hair.
“Come up here,” she whispered.
And Alicent did.
Rhaenyra’s fingers curled into the waistband of Alicent’s jeans, slow and sure. Her gaze flicked up once, checking—asking without asking—and Alicent gave a barely-there nod, her chest rising like she was bracing for something. When Rhaenyra unbuckled her pants, the sound of the metal catching filled the air between them, sharp against the soft hush of their breath.
Alicent exhaled, her head tipping forward until it rested against Rhaenyra’s shoulder. Her fingers dug lightly into Rhaenyra’s back, trying to stay grounded. The touch was delicate at first—Rhaenyra’s hand moving between them, fingers teasing, then stroking with a rhythm that made Alicent’s breath stutter.
She moaned, barely—a sound caught in her throat, pressed into the skin just under Rhaenyra’s neck. Rhaenyra smirked at the heat blooming across her friend’s face, her lips brushing against her temple. “Gods, you’re already close, aren’t you?” she teased, voice low, rough.
Alicent half-laughed, half-moaned, biting down on her bottom lip. “Shut up,” she muttered, the words warm against Rhaenyra’s skin, but her body was already trembling, her hips shifting like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to lean in or pull away.
Rhaenyra chuckled, smug. “Sensitive today?”
Alicent grabbed her wrist—not hard, but enough to make her stop. Rhaenyra froze, confused for a second, until she heard Alicent’s voice again, hushed and breathy: “Stop. Just—give me a second. I want this to last.”
There was something in the way she said it that made Rhaenyra pause. Not just the words, but the tone—fragile and fierce all at once, like she wasn’t just asking for a moment of pleasure, but claiming something that had always felt just out of reach.
So Rhaenyra waited.
Alicent’s forehead pressed into her shoulder, chest rising and falling like she was trying to catch a breath that wouldn’t settle. Her hands curled into the sheets beside them, her skin burning where Rhaenyra had touched her. Her body trembled—less from nerves and more from the sheer heat of it all, simmering just beneath the surface.
Rhaenyra leaned in, brushing her lips across the crown of Alicent’s head. “You always do this to me,” she whispered, her voice low and uneven. “Get me all worked up and then tell me to wait.”
A soft laugh slipped from Alicent’s lips, muffled against her skin. “Maybe I like the power,” she murmured.
“Oh, do you now?”
Rhaenyra’s hands slid lightly along her waist, tracing the dip of her back, the edge of her hips, not pushing—just touching, grounding. Every point of contact felt charged, intimate in a way that made Alicent's breath hitch again.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Just the sound of their breathing, the soft creak of the mattress beneath them, the pulse between their ribs thundering louder than anything else.
Rhaenyra moved with purpose, strength in her thighs as she rolled them over and pushed Alicent down flat against the mattress. The shift knocked the breath out of both of them—sheets rustling, the mattress groaning beneath their weight. Alicent’s hands instinctively came up to steady her, but Rhaenyra caught them, pinning them beside her head, hovering above with that wild look in her eyes again.
A wicked grin tugged at the corners of her lips. “Have we ever tried cowgirl?”
Alicent blinked, caught off guard by the boldness—and then she smiled. That slow, dangerous smile that meant nothing good and everything Rhaenyra wanted.
“Not properly,” Alicent said, voice rough, already breathless.
Rhaenyra’s knees shifted wider, settling over her, deliberately dragging her hips down just enough to make Alicent gasp. She could feel everything—hard and hot beneath her—and it made her shudder. The look on Alicent’s face, head tipped back, pupils blown wide, skin flushed—Rhaenyra wanted to bottle it.
“Well,” Rhaenyra said, teasing as she leaned down to kiss her jaw, her throat, “I should’ve brought it up sooner.”
Alicent groaned, hands clenching at the sheets now since Rhaenyra still had her pinned. Her restraint was crumbling by the second, hips twitching up involuntarily. Rhaenyra moaned at the friction, the heat building fast between them, that undeniable throb between her legs as she rolled her hips once, twice, slow and mean.
“You’re going to kill me,” Alicent muttered, voice cracking.
Rhaenyra sat up, hair a mess, skin glowing. “That’s the plan.”
She let go of Alicent’s wrists, only to drag her hands down her chest, her ribs, her waist, her hips. She finally took her in, then she rocked again, slower now, watching every reaction play out across Alicent’s face like a film reel. A little more pressure, a twist of her hips—and Alicent choked on a sound she barely managed to swallow.
“Fuck,” Alicent breathed, staring up at her like she was seeing something unreal.
Rhaenyra was electric—cocky and flushed, tipping her head back as she rolled her body down against Alicent’s again, chasing the perfect angle. Her thighs trembled from the tension, her hands braced on Alicent’s chest as she moved.
Every time she dropped her hips, Alicent arched up to meet her. The rhythm built, messy and hot and filled with quiet gasps and curses and whispered names.
And through it all—through the breathless grind and the biting tension and the way they both trembled under the weight of want—Rhaenyra never once looked away from her.
Alicent’s hands finally found their grip on Rhaenyra’s hips—tight, grounding. She held her there, fingers digging in just enough to steady her, to angle her better. Rhaenyra could feel every flex of her grip, every shift as Alicent adjusted beneath her. The friction was sharper now, deeper. Rhaenyra hissed through her teeth, laughing breathlessly as her rhythm faltered for just a second.
“Gods,” she panted, hair falling into her face as she leaned down. “You always do this—get all bossy the second I’m on top.”
Alicent arched her brow, grinning despite the wrecked look on her face. “I don't.”
Rhaenyra laughed, dark and rich, and let her hips grind down harder in retaliation. Alicent groaned—low, ragged—her head tipping back into the pillows. The sound lit something in Rhaenyra. She leaned over her again, lips brushing the curve of her ear.
“Remember the first time?” she murmured, voice laced with teasing cruelty and fondness. She laughed softly at the memory. “You came in less than three minutes. I think I broke your fucking brain.”
Alicent barked a laugh, hand tightening briefly on Rhaenyra’s hip. “In my defense,” she muttered between shallow breaths, “it was your fault. You looked like a damn fever dream.”
“In a car,” Rhaenyra added, grinning. “Fogged-up windows. That god-awful music station you wouldn’t change afterward.”
Alicent chuckled, the sound fading into a groan as Rhaenyra rolled her hips again, unrelenting. “Later on, you couldn’t stop talking,” she accused. “Just kept going on and on about how I was already shaking, and—”
“Because you were,” Rhaenyra cut in, triumphant. “All that swagger, and you fell apart the second I touched you.”
Her voice dipped lower with every word, until it was almost a purr in Alicent’s ear. “And now look at you.”
Alicent didn’t argue. She couldn’t. Not with the way her breath hitched, not with the way her hands trembled just slightly on Rhaenyra’s hips.
Before Rhaenyra could get a word out, Alicent surged up just enough to catch her mouth in a kiss—hot, heavy, open-mouthed. Her hands slid to Rhaenyra’s waist and with one controlled motion, flipped them, taking her place above. The change left Rhaenyra momentarily breathless, blinking up at the ceiling before Alicent’s silhouette blocked out the light, all heat and tension.
“Turn over,” Alicent murmured, voice thick with something too primal to be called just want.
Rhaenyra didn’t argue. Her skin buzzed as she rolled onto her stomach, chest flush with the sheets, arms bracing her weight. She was still catching her breath when she felt Alicent shift behind her, hands moving with intention. Then—soft fabric, a firm nudge. Alicent slid a pillow beneath her hips, lifting her just enough, tilting her perfectly.
The breath that left Rhaenyra was shaky. She’d never felt so offered up, so bare—even after everything they’d done. There was something different about this. Something reverent in the way Alicent moved, how careful she was with her hands even when her body trembled with restraint.
Alicent adjusted behind her, hands dragging down Rhaenyra’s back, the pressure firm and possessive without being overbearing. She spread her palms over the curves of her hips, thumbs digging in slightly, anchoring her there—right where she wanted her. The pillow beneath Rhaenyra’s hips lifted her at just the right angle, keeping her open and waiting, her breath catching at the sheer vulnerability of it.
Alicent’s cock pressed against her, thick and hard and burning with anticipation. She didn’t push in yet—just dragged the head against slick heat, slow and teasing. Rhaenyra’s thighs trembled.
“Fuck,” Rhaenyra groaned, hips twitching backward, trying to take more.
Alicent leaned over her, her cock pressing flush between her folds but not entering yet, body shaking from the restraint it took to wait. “You always get like this when I don’t give it to you right away.”
“You mean desperate?” Rhaenyra bit out, voice tight, breathless.
“Exactly.”
And then Alicent shifted her hips and slid in slowly, deliberately. Rhaenyra gasped—shoulders tensing, her spine arching beneath the weight of it. Alicent’s cock filled her inch by inch, and it was everything: hot, thick, unrelenting. It made her muscles tense and quake, made her fingers curl into the sheets again, made her voice catch in her throat as a moan ripped through her.
Alicent swore under her breath. “Still so tight.”
She bottomed out, staying there for a beat, pressed flush against Rhaenyra’s ass, hips trembling. Her hands gripped Rhaenyra’s waist tighter now, her thumbs dragging back to watch the way they fit together.
And then she moved.
The first thrust knocked the breath out of Rhaenyra’s lungs. The next one made her cry out.
Alicent built a rhythm—deep and sharp, hips slapping against Rhaenyra’s ass with every thrust. The wet drag of her cock filled the room with lewd, rhythmic sound, and the way Rhaenyra moaned—open and raw—was enough to burn the edges off Alicent’s control.
“Just like that,” Rhaenyra panted, head pressing into the mattress, body rocked forward with every movement. “Fuck, just like that.”
Alicent groaned, fucking into her harder now, cock buried deep, using the leverage of her hips and the pillow to angle perfectly with every thrust. The slick heat, the tightness, the sounds—it was fucking overwhelming. Rhaenyra’s body met every snap of her hips with equal intensity, grinding back, chasing every second of it.
The pressure was dizzying. Alicent was buried so deep Rhaenyra could barely think—only feel. Her pulse pounded in her ears, her thighs shaking. Alicent’s cock dragged perfectly against every nerve, and each thrust sent sparks shooting up her spine.
Alicent leaned in again, one hand sliding around to find her clit, rubbing circles with the rhythm of her thrusts, pushing her closer, rough and precise. “Come for me,” she said against her neck. “I can feel how close you are.”
Rhaenyra’s answer was a broken moan, her body already giving in, rocking wildly against her, hands tangled in the sheets.
And behind her, Alicent kept going, cock buried deep, chasing her own high with frantic desperation, lost in the heat of it.
Rhaenyra came hard—body wracked, thighs trembling, voice caught somewhere between a moan and a cry. Her whole form tensed beneath Alicent, locked around her cock so tight it pulled a low, guttural groan from Alicent’s throat. But she didn’t stop.
Alicent didn’t even slow down.
She knew exactly how Rhaenyra got in this state—wrecked and sensitive, twitchy and half-gone, but still greedy for more. So she kept her pace steady, unrelenting. Her cock dragged through that oversensitive clutch with every thrust, coaxing whimpers from Rhaenyra’s throat that sounded helpless, broken open. Her body jolted under each stroke, hips jerking involuntarily, nerves set on fire.
“Too much?” Alicent asked low against her shoulder, but she didn’t expect an answer. She already knew the signs—Rhaenyra’s nails clawing the sheets, the way her legs tried to clamp together and failed, how her moans slipped out unfiltered and involuntary.
Still, Rhaenyra didn’t say stop.
So Alicent didn’t.
Her hand slid back down between them, fingers finding her clit again. She worked it with smooth, practiced motions, not too fast, not too rough, but enough to make Rhaenyra gasp again, hips jerking. “There you go,” she murmured, pressing in deeper, her cock still buried to the hilt, thrusting through that tight, wet heat without mercy. “You can take it.”
Rhaenyra was sobbing now, the sound of it muffled against the pillow, her body arching helplessly into the pressure. Her muscles locked and trembled, every inch of her on the edge of collapse.
And Alicent kept fucking her through it.
Slow, deep strokes, pushing her exactly where she needed to go. The wet slap of skin on skin echoed louder now, mingling with the soft, incoherent sounds falling from Rhaenyra’s lips.
“Come again,” Alicent said, almost a whisper.
Rhaenyra broke with a shuddering cry, body seizing around Alicent, the orgasm crashing through her like a wave too big to hold back. Her back arched, mouth open in a wordless plea, body convulsing with release. She fell forward onto the mattress like she’d been hollowed out and flooded at once.
Alicent didn’t move right away. She stayed buried deep, her hands holding Rhaenyra down, her breath harsh against her shoulder as she slowed, finally easing the intensity.
The heat in the room lingered like smoke. Rhaenyra twitched beneath her, still shaking, caught somewhere between bliss and overstimulation, and Alicent bent down to press her lips between her shoulder blades, breath still ragged.
“Fuck,” she whispered, reverent now.
Rhaenyra’s answering laugh was wrecked, hoarse—and maybe just a little bit desperate for more.
It was a good thing Rhaenyra’s rooms were tucked away from the rest of the mansion, behind heavy doors and thicker walls, because there was no hiding how undone she was—no way to disguise the shaky breaths, the half-choked moans, the way her voice had broken on Alicent’s name more than once.
Now, it was quiet.
Not silent, not really—there was the faint hum of the city outside, the whisper of wind against the tall windows, and beneath it all, the lingering sound of their breathing, uneven and slowing. Rhaenyra lay sprawled on her stomach, hair a mess across the pillow, limbs slack with exhaustion, skin flushed and still warm.
Alicent was beside her, propped up on one elbow, staring. She looked… fucked out, sure, but also a little stunned. Like something had shifted and she hadn’t quite caught up to it yet.
“You okay?” she asked eventually, voice low, steady despite everything.
Rhaenyra turned her head toward her, eyes fluttering open. Her lips curved, lazy and tired. “You ask that now?”
Alicent’s mouth twitched. “It seemed like the right time.”
Rhaenyra didn’t answer immediately. She just looked at her, expression unreadable, before finally nudging closer, cheek brushing the edge of Alicent’s shoulder. “I’m okay. You?”
A pause.
“Yeah,” Alicent said, after a beat too long. “I think I am.”
The quiet returned, a little heavier now. Comfortable, but weighted. There was something unsaid still hanging between them—something rawer than bodies pressed together. Something more dangerous than the scent of each other still clinging to their skin.
“You meant it, right?” Rhaenyra asked softly, without looking at her. “All that stuff. About not wanting me with anyone else.”
Alicent shifted, turned toward her fully, fingers trailing lightly down Rhaenyra’s bare spine.
“I did,” she said. “But I don’t want to say it like that again. Not when I’m angry. You deserve better than that.”
Rhaenyra exhaled slowly. “So what does that mean? For us?”
Alicent didn’t answer right away. She reached out instead, brushing Rhaenyra’s hair away from her face, fingertips lingering at her temple.
“It means I want you,” she said. “Not just like this. I want to figure it out. Even if we keep fighting. Even if I don’t know how to do this right. I want you.”
And for once, Rhaenyra didn’t deflect. She didn’t tease or laugh it off. She just leaned forward, rested her forehead against Alicent’s, and whispered, “Okay.”