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Blackport, Westeros, 478 a.U. – Rhaenyra Targaryen
The first time Rhaenyra saw Lady Alicent Hightower, she couldn’t have imagined how important she would soon become.
It was a sunny afternoon, the heat almost unbearable but for a pleasant breeze, and Rhaenyra was almost to the Social Sciences building, where she was to sign up for some of her classes, when the door of the building opened and out walked a young woman with a Westerosi look. She had but a second to glimpse her before she was turning away to walk in the direction opposite to the one Rhaenyra was coming from, but that was enough for her to be struck by her beauty.
Now, it must be said that Rhaenyra, being as she was a princess, and more to the point the heir to the throne of Valyria, had through her life met many people of exceedingly good looks – had counted herself fortunate to become intimately acquainted with more than a few, much to her kepa’s chagrin as he despaired of her ever settling down. There was a reason the Valyrian people were considered ethereally beautiful, and their nobility were prime examples of it. She had also seen more than her share of beautiful Westerosi over the years, both before and after coming to Blackport to further her education as her kekepa had suggested, so it wasn’t like she wasn’t aware the Westerosi could be as beautiful as the Valyrians.
But there was still something special about the stranger, something that called to Rhaenyra’s attention and made her yearn to meet her. Rhaenyra was familiar with this feeling, after so many years doing what her kepa Daemon had once joked was her best attempt at becoming the second coming of Empress Rhaena, but it still took her breath away.
Time stood still as she watched this auburn-haired stranger walk away, as she was seized by a fierce desire to call out and, puzzlingly, endeavor to break her own rules.
Rhaenyra Targaryen had never, not once in her life, wanted to go against herself half as strongly as she wanted to that afternoon.
Then she heard a distant shout followed by raucous laughter, and the moment was gone.
~~~~~o~~~~~
The second time Rhaenyra saw Lady Alicent Hightower, she had been dreaming of auburn hair for ten days.
It was a somewhat cool morning, the third day of the semester and first day of Introduction to Essosi Politics and Culture, and she was entering the Social Sciences building for class when she heard a distant call to hold the door. Rhaenyra had been raised with all the manners of a well-bred highborn, and thus she held the door – and there she was, the stranger from that sweltering afternoon, jogging closer with a dark green tumbler in one hand and a folder in the other, backpack hanging off one shoulder with auburn hair coming off a low ponytail.
(Rhaenyra had never thought a ponytail could look this attractive.)
“Thank you,” the stranger said, with a sweet voice in the cultured accent of the Reach nobility.
“Glad to be of assistance,” Rhaenyra replied, letting the door close.
The stranger smiled at her, then she left in the direction of the stairs.
There must have been something in her voice or her face, because when she looked at Aurion there was a twitch to his lips she could only see after years of him and his twin Aerion being assigned as her bodyguards.
“Oh, shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
Rhaenyra peered at him suspiciously. His face was once again the impassive mask of the best members of the Imperial Guard, the one that had allowed Targaryen children to get away with mischief for centuries, and she didn’t trust it for one second.
When she arrived at the classroom, there was only one table left at the front of the classroom even though the class wasn’t to start for ten more minutes – the course was popular due to Professor Lucerys Bar Emmon, considered one of the best educators in Blackwater and an undeniable expert in the field. He was the main reason Rhaenyra herself was taking this class, interested as she’d become in his perspective on her people and the rest of the continent across the Narrow Sea.
As she placed her things, she noticed the captivating stranger sitting three rows behind her and was tempted to go up and take a seat closer to her, but thankfully for Aurion’s blood pressure the madness left her quickly and she sat where it would be easier for him to protect her.
(Mostly because she didn’t look forward to the scolding she would receive over her next call home if she made things difficult for her bodyguards.)
Eventually, Professor Bar Emmon entered the room, and his students settled for the first class of the semester.
~~~~~o~~~~~
The third time Rhaenyra saw Lady Alicent Hightower, she’d been fighting the urge to seek her out with the excuse of becoming study partners for two days.
It was the final day of the week, and the second session of their shared class was almost over when Professor Bar Emmon announced he would assign the pairs for the final project of the semester.
(In any other group, this proclamation would’ve been met with groans. Here, there were enough highborn that those who were displeased kept quiet.)
Eventually, the Professor reached her. “Lady Belaerys with Lady Hightower,” he called.
Rhaenyra turned around to seek out her partner and saw the stranger looking at her. When their eyes met, Rhaenyra pointed at herself and mouthed her mother’s name, and the stranger smiled, inclined her head and mouthed her own family name.
She didn’t need to look at Aurion to know he was amused at this coincidence, much as he probably was keeping that impassive expression she was well familiar with.
When class was over, Rhaenyra put away her things and walked closer to her new partner. The Hightower lady looked up from her own backpack to smile at her.
“Lady Rhaenyra Belaerys, third year International Relations” she introduced herself, offering her hand in the Westerosi greeting.
“Lady Alicent Hightower, second year History.”
It took all of Rhaenyra’s willpower to keep her smile when their hands touched and she felt a warmth travel up her arm and down her spine.
She had experience in romance, but she had never felt like this, and especially not so fast, not with Daenera who was her first girlfriend, or even with Jaenara who was her longest relationship.
I am doomed, she thought.
Because that contact was enough for Rhaenyra to know she wanted to know everything about Lady Alicent – her likes and dislikes, her hopes and dreams, the touch of her lips and the innermost reaches of her soul.
It had been an age since she’d given up on finding the burning love she’d dreamed of her whole childhood and teen years, the sort that outshone the sun and bound people for life, and almost six moons since she’d started to debate whether it would be best to make a political match or name Alyssa her heir, and this woman had with a single touch reignited her hopes and dashed her deliberations.
They had only just properly met, but she wanted Lady Alicent to be hers.
“Pleased to meet you,” Rhaenyra said, instead of all the words swimming in her brain.
“Likewise,” Lady Alicent replied.
But she couldn’t let herself fall for her. What was the point, when even friends who’d known her for years, who’d grown up in Court with her, had decided she wasn’t worth the scrutiny and the loss of privacy? When even Jaenara, her first love, who had loved Rhaenyra in turn, had not seen a future for them?
What was the point of hoping for something with this woman she’d just met, when she didn’t even know who Rhaenyra was, when she would do as Jaenara if they entered a relationship and she found out?
“When are you free to talk about our project?” she asked.
It was best to let it be, to keep her hopes extinguished and remember she lived in the real world where people in her position seldom found the kind of love she’d once dreamed about.
~~~~~o~~~~~
Rhaenyra had known Lady Alicent Hightower for nearly two moons when she came to one of the most world-shaking realizations of her life.
They had been meeting two or three times a week since they were partnered to settle their topic and start their research, and Rhaenyra had been absently cataloguing every tiny detail of Lady Alicent – like the way she picked at her fingers when she was nervous, or bit her lip or her pencil when she was thinking, or drank coffee like she was paid to. The way she was soft-spoken and quietly confident in her own knowledge and abilities, which were considerable as befit a scion of a noble House even in modern day Westeros.
(Rhaenyra was very observant. She had to be, as heir to an empire, and in this she excelled as she did in most things in life – except, much to her own regret, her romantic relationships, and even then she wasn’t at fault for any of them ending.)
She noticed that Lady Alicent was quite possibly one of the most beautiful people she had ever met, inside and out, the kind that she would love to take home to introduce to her family and eventually lead her people by her side.
Every day, especially when she had to meet with Lady Alicent, was a struggle between her reason and her heart, because she wanted to let her walls down, to remember what it was like to dream of a love like the stories, but then she was reminded of her responsibilities and the fact that she owed herself to Valyria and whoever wanted to be in her life had to deal with the sort of scrutiny that broke people. Every time Lady Alicent made her heart skip a beat, she had to forcibly remind herself that girls who’d known her for years, who’d grown up exposed to the Valyrian nobility and their press, had not loved her enough to stay.
What was the point, then?
But then, one otherwise ordinary afternoon, as they sat in the yard softly chatting about their plans for the weekend, Lady Alicent smiled, the setting sun framing her as if a vision sent by the gods, and Rhaenyra’s heart stopped.
Oh.
She’s the only one I would want to be my consort.
Not someone like her. I want her.
(A year down the line, she would tell Lady Alicent she’d known she was serious two moons in. She would assume Rhaenyra meant into the relationship – in truth, she meant this: that two moons after meeting each other, she couldn’t see anyone else at her side.)
They were friends, by this point, if vaguely distant as friends who’d only known each other for a few weeks could be – especially when one of them was hiding themselves behind walls of Valyrian steel.
It made the realization hurt all the more.
~~~~~o~~~~~
Alicent was all she had ever dreamed about. Kind, intelligent, practical, funny, compassionate, and breathtakingly, endlessly beautiful. But she was Westerosi, from Oldtown in the Kingdom of the Reach, the people most closely tied to the Faith of the Seven that still frowned upon same-sex relationships as... not sins, perhaps, but not necessarily welcome amongst their faithful. More than that, she was a Hightower of Oldtown, one of the families most devoted to the Andal religion.
Even if she’d been inclined to hope for love again, Rhaenyra couldn’t bring herself to hope that someone like Lady Alicent Hightower would be the one to find it in. Or, more precisely, that she would stay.
She wasn’t that eager to get her heart broken again.
But she also couldn’t imagine having someone other than Alicent as her consort. Kind, brilliant, beautiful Alicent, with her musical laugh and gentle hands. No one would compare to her, not to Rhaenyra, and that wouldn’t be a fair thing to do to anyone, even the grasping nobles who wanted to be the Imperial Consort more than they wanted to be Rhaenyra’s.
So she looked at Alicent, smiled and told herself that this was enough – her friendship, for however long she could have it. Her attention and her kindness, for as long as she was thought worthy of them.
Because why would Lady Alicent Hightower of all people be interested in someone like Rhaenyra, with all the baggage she carried and the responsibilities that bound her?
Maybe it was time to start preparing Alyssa.
~~~~~o~~~~~
Their shared class, and especially their shared project, had Rhaenyra become familiar with much about Alicent, from the sort of pen she favored to the loops of her handwriting. Through the four moons of that semester, she learnt the way she drank her coffee, her preferred café to study when the library was too quiet for her to focus, the little box of a food truck she favored for a quick lunch between their lessons with Professor Bar Emmon and her course with Professor Orwyle, which lecturers she adored and which she couldn’t stand.
Despite her best efforts to remain unaffected, she quietly filed away uncountable little and great facts about Alicent and quickly fell deeper and deeper into her orbit as the beautiful picture of her grew ever clearer and more detailed.
Her growing feelings were not helped by the effortless ease of their partnership and how they seemed to complement each other in a way Rhaenyra had never experienced before, even with those who’d known her for years. It reached a point that she realized there were only a few people left who seemed to understand her better, chiefly her hāedar Alysanne and her lēkia Daemion.
It was them who noticed the change in her, when she went home for a week-long vacation after the end of the semester, and Alysanne who confronted her about it, with Daemion quietly at her shoulder with a single pale eyebrow raised.
“Something’s changed,” she said, with all the certainty of a younger cousin who’d been attached to her mandia at the hip and was intimately familiar with her moods and thoughts.
Rhaenyra hesitated long enough for Daemion to decide to step in. “You haven’t been this absent-minded in years. Not since...” he noted slowly, realization dawning on his face. “You met someone.”
In anyone else, the sound she made would’ve been counted as a groan. “I’m not dating anyone.”
“I didn’t say you were,” Daemion remarked. “You have never been able to shut up about it when you’ve dated in the past, which is why I know you haven’t seen anyone since Naerys. What I did say is that you met someone, meaning that your attention has been caught once more.”
“How can you possibly know that?”
“I know you.”
“And that was not a denial,” Alysanne commented, a delighted grin overtaking her features. “So, tell us, did you somehow find a nice Valyrian girl out there in Blackport, or are you still trying to emulate velma Rhaena like kepa says?”
Even an exceedingly generous person would’ve been hard-pressed to argue that Rhaenyra did not huff at those words. “Fine, I met someone. She is Westerosi, and no, dating her is nowhere in the cards.”
This declaration caused her cousins to sober up and exchange somewhat wary glances, presumably at the short tone she’d been unable to avoid. Rhaenyra politely pretended not to notice.
“You said you wouldn’t actively look for the love you wanted,” remarked Alysanne slowly, “not that you would... what, avoid it?”
Rhaenyra considered them for a moment, thinking if she wanted to tell them more, and they waited patiently for her to make her decision – it was true that they knew her better than anyone, including Alicent herself as her true identity as the heir to the Valyrian throne remained an enormous secret between them. They waited so patiently, in fact, that she decided in favor of letting them in at least partially.
“She’s a Hightower,” she told them eventually, rather than give voice to all her doubts.
“Of Oldtown?” Daemion asked.
“The very same.”
He winced. Alysanne looked between them, bewildered. “Her family is a problem?”
“They are very close to the Andal Faith. You know, the Seven-Faced god who for some reason cares about what consenting adults get up to? The faithful of that religion don’t tend to be inclined to date their own sex.”
Rhaenyra courteously ignored Alysanne’s wince as she understood what the problem was, and the sympathetic look that followed. “You can see why dating her wouldn’t be a possibility, then?”
Neither asked whether she was sure. They knew her well enough to know she would never give up on what she wanted based on a mere possibility.
She ignored the little voice in the back of her head that whispered her family wasn’t the only reason, not even the main one, she had yet to make her feelings plain to Alicent.
(She ignored the other voice, poisonous with all the doubts even someone of Rhaenyra Targaryen’s station could not avoid developing after the history that plagued her, when it crooned at her, vicious and malignant and matter-of-fact.
What’s the point? She’ll leave anyways, so why make the heartbreak worse by knowing what it’s like to have her?)
But still, Alysanne looked at her thoughtfully. Rhaenyra pretended not to notice.
~~~~~o~~~~~
There is no way to make one immune to heartbreak. Rhaenyra had learnt that the hard way at five and ten, when the girlfriend she had fallen in love with took her to a secluded spot in their college campus and haltingly told her she had realized she couldn’t keep living under the glaring spotlight that followed Rhaenyra.
I love you, but I can’t– I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry.
It had come as a surprise to Rhaenyra at the time, but when thinking about it in later years she would realize she really should have seen it coming. College was one thing, they were mostly safe from scrutiny thanks to Valyria’s strict security around their institutions of learning, but the outside world was another thing entirely, and for all that Jaenara had done an admirable effort to pretend she wasn’t affected by the eyes of the Court on her when the rumor spread that she was dating the Crown Princess, Rhaenyra had still been able to see it.
There had been nothing to do but accept the breakup with all the grace expected of her, and return to their previous friendship as if it didn’t hurt her to be unable to be with her after knowing what it was like to have her.
Jaenara had not been Rhaenyra’s first girlfriend, but she had been every other first. It was part of the reason for the pain – Rhaenyra had given all of herself, and it still hadn’t been enough.
The heartbreak, the insecurity, followed her for years.
(It wouldn’t leave her alone until someone else came along to make it better and make it worse.)
(It wouldn’t leave her until her heart was sure that Alicent would stay.)
This was the main reason she was keeping her feelings quiet – not because she was so sure Alicent could be nothing but straight, but because even if she wasn’t and she returned her feelings and they got together... if a friend who’d grown up in Court had decided it was too much, why wouldn’t a Westerosi who was not used to the highest echelons of even her own kingdom’s sociopolitical hierarchy?
Rhaenyra would rather have Alicent in her life as a friend than not at all, because a friend would be more likely to stay if the spotlight was the quiet glow that shone on courtiers than the blazing beam that followed Targaryens and their romantic partners.
So she swallowed her feelings and her hopes and her pain and went back to Blackport with a renewed determination to just be a good friend.
~~~~~o~~~~~
A few days before the new semester was set to start, the afternoon after Rhaenyra returned to her apartment in the Old District, Alicent visited her home-away-from-home for the first time.
While it would be untrue to say that this was happening now because Rhaenyra had been avoiding it, she would soon come to realize that, perhaps, avoidance might have been better – because as soon as Alicent walked in the door, she stopped her question about how she could afford to live in this particular penthouse to immediately drop to her knees in front of Suvion, who as usual was waiting at the door for Rhaenyra.
“This is Suvion,” she said, barely able to talk through the sudden knot in her throat.
“I imagined,” Alicent replied, not looking up from where Rhaenyra’s oldest companion had dropped down to present his belly for pets. “What kind of dog is he?”
“A Valyrian spitz. My great-uncle used to breed them, before he died, and he gave me Suvion as a nameday gift when I turned two.”
That made Alicent pause. From her position, Rhaenyra could see her eyebrow rise as she studied him more closely. It wasn’t the first time a Westerosi saw a Valyrian spitz and was surprised by their youthfulness, and it wouldn’t be the last.
“It’s obvious you’ve taken good care of him,” Alicent finally commented. “He doesn’t look any older than ten.”
“Part of that is that well-bred Valyrian spitzes age very gracefully,” Rhaenyra admitted. “Good care can see them reach their third decade easily when they are properly bred. And my great-uncle was one of the best breeders in Valyria, especially when it came to these dogs.”
“And I’m sure you’re doing your best to ensure this handsome boy reaches that mark.”
The next several minutes were spent with Alicent cooing over Suvion while Rhaenyra moved around the apartment, putting things away, opening curtains and turning on her coffee machine to make them drinks. All the while, she kept an eye on her friend and her companion – not because she was concerned, but because the sight was one she wanted to commit to memory. Suvion was a well-mannered dog that tended to get along with everyone he met, but rarely he took to strangers as fast as he was taking to Alicent.
It was doing terrible things to her convictions.
But then Suvion let out an excited sound and got back to his feet to put his paws on Alicent’s shoulders and excitedly lick her face, and Alicent’s responding giggles were a sudden squeeze to her heart.
I love her.
The thought took all the breath out of her lungs, leaving her desperately grabbing the countertop to keep herself upright as she stared at Alicent. For a long moment that felt eternal, it was as if she couldn’t breathe, as if her heart was struggling to beat through the tight grip around it, her friend oblivious to the wreckage she was making of Rhaenyra just by being her beautiful self.
It’s not like she hadn’t known she was falling in love. It’s not like she hadn’t seen it coming. But she hadn’t thought the word in relation to Alicent before, actively avoiding it since she realized she wanted no one but her, although in hindsight that was the point she probably should’ve understood the depth of her feelings.
But it was one thing to be in love and another to put the word to the feeling, and now that she had there was no closing the floodgates back up. There was no longer any hope of convincing herself she had not fallen head over heels.
She looked at Alicent lovingly interact with her companion, and as she was overcome with the reality of her feelings she finally understood and accepted that there was no denying her own feelings anymore – not to herself.
Alicent looked up at her and Rhaenyra smiled back, automatic but genuine, a single thought consuming her mind and smothering the hopes fanned by her realization.
She must never find out.
~~~~~o~~~~~
Rhaenyra would’ve had to be blind to not realize, a fortnight into the new semester, that she was unconsciously courting Alicent in the Valyrian way – with the same gestures she’d employed on every one of her previous interests, and even ones she’d directed to Jaenara during their relationship. Quietly, without the same extravagance as she was still pretending to be a minor cousin of House Belaerys and no one knew she had the coin to spoil anyone the way a Targaryen could, but still there was no denying she was losing the battle against herself.
Some things were, as far as she was aware, exclusively Valyrian courting customs, like gifting her trinkets and sweets on certain days, but others they had in common with the Westerosi – such as keeping doors open for her, carrying her things, paying for her meals, or pulling out the chair for her. Thankfully, none of her little gestures were exclusively Westerosi (she wasn’t so far out of her mind that she was doing things she wasn’t used to), but Alicent never commented beyond protesting the expenses.
(I would do so much more for you if would only be mine, Rhaenyra didn’t say. I would give you the world if you were to stay.)
If her friend noticed she was being courted, she didn’t say a word about it.
Rhaenyra hoped she didn’t notice. How would she explain that she wasn’t consciously doing these things, that there was no intent behind her actions?
But Alicent didn’t ask for explanations, and Rhaenyra continued trying (and miserably failing) to stop herself from romancing someone she could never have.
~~~~~o~~~~~
It was a sweltering day when things changed once more.
Alicent had come over to Rhaenyra’s apartment after her last exam of the semester, tired but triumphant, confidently declaring there was no way she hadn’t passed comfortably – much as she had been doing every day for the past week, except today her objective was not studying together but rather decompressing after completing their classes.
They were sitting on Rhaenyra’s couch, watching a mindless program while they drank iced Valyrian tea, and Alicent was complaining about some classmate of hers whose neck she dearly wanted to wring.
“He’s been trying to ask me out for weeks,” she griped, leaning back in her seat with her glass held between both hands. “I’ve never encouraged him, but he just doesn’t get the hint that I’m not interested.”
“Lord Unwin Peake, you said?” Rhaenyra asked in fake absentmindedness she hoped Alicent couldn’t see through – mainly because it would be difficult to explain that she was seething at the thought of someone of his like having the gall to think himself worthy of Lady Alicent Hightower. “Not that I’d ever tell you what to do, but he has a terrible reputation. Aerion once caught him trying to take a drunk girl into his apartment – he swore they were friends and he was just trying to help her, but Aerion wouldn’t hear of it and insisted on calling her roommate.”
“I’ve heard of his reputation. To be frank, I’m surprised he hasn’t been investigated yet – surely there must be something to the rumors.”
“And I’m not surprised you aren’t interested in him,” Rhaenyra retorted, not bothering to hide that she was amused at the mere concept. “I know you well enough by now to expect you to have better taste than that.”
Alicent snorted, then chuckled almost shyly. “Yes, well, even if he had the most stellar reputation known to society I would still be uninterested. There is nothing he could offer that would change my mind.”
Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
Her friend hesitated. “It’s just... men are very much not my type.”
Something dangerously like hope gripped Rhaenyra by the throat. She decidedly stomped on it and wished it burned before it did the same to her. “And are women?” she found herself asking.
Idiot.
Alicent hesitated longer this time, like she was gathering courage to speak her mind. Rhaenyra wondered why – it’s not like she’d ever made a secret of her own proclivities, surely Alicent knew if there was anyone in Blackport that wouldn’t judge her, no matter her answer, it would be Rhaenyra?
“I’d say so,” Alicent finally said. “But there’s only been one to catch my eye. I can... appreciate others, but enough to want to be with? Just one.”
Rhaenyra wasn’t one to put much stock in labels where they weren’t wanted, although she’d applied one to herself for nearly half her life. What Alicent was saying, though, pointed at the sort of label that was very much compatible with her own.
It wasn’t the first time a friend came out to her, or the first time a friend told her they were interested in someone. It wasn’t even the first time a friend she herself was interested in told her she was interested in someone else. She had practice in responding to it, even though this was the first time said friend was someone she was in love with.
(She was getting used to thinking the words, now. It didn’t make it hurt any less, but... it helped, still, in a way.)
So she smiled, and pretended it didn’t hurt to know Alicent had only ever liked one person. “She must be special,” she said softly. “Anyone who would catch your eye must be every bit as exceptional as you are.”
Alicent looked at her. Really looked, her gaze seeming to probe deep into Rhaenyra’s soul in a way only she and her closest cousins seemed capable of – and they had the advantage of knowing her their whole lives.
For reasons Rhaenyra couldn’t fully explain, her whole body tensed, as if she was on the very edge of a precipice and the wind was near strong enough to send her over in the wrong direction.
(It was hope and hopelessness all at once – a wish to hear more and a desperate desire to change the topic before her heart got crushed again.)
Time stood still.
Later, Rhaenyra wouldn’t be able to tell how long Alicent looked at her, for how long she hesitated to speak her mind. Later, it wouldn’t matter.
Finally, Alicent spoke, her voice quiet as if unwilling to break something delicate.
“You are.”
Rhaenyra’s breath caught.
Her heart rose up in exhilarated hope, and even though the logical side of her tried to argue there might have been another explanation, that voice was weak against the fierce yearning of her childhood dreams – the side of her that still longed for a love like the stories, the burning flame that made the impossible possible and bound people for lifetimes.
She had thought that side of her dead and buried. Clearly, she couldn’t have been more wrong, if two simple words had her heart crying louder than her head.
“Say something,” Alicent pleaded, her voice weak with what sounded like fear.
It was outrageous to Rhaenyra, that the woman she’d been head over heels in love with for over half a year would not know of her feelings, for there was no way she had been such an excellent actress that her yearning hadn’t been plain.
But it must’ve been, if Alicent’s face was to be taken as proof.
When Rhaenyra finally felt like she could breathe again, she realized her own expression had morphed into what surely was the dumbest smile of her life – wide, hopeful, wholly undignified of someone of her station, but sincere as she had never been in front of anyone but her family.
Rhaenyra blinked, and she noticed Alicent looked somewhere between scared and confused.
Well, that will not do.
“Can I kiss you?”
Alicent startled. “What?”
“Can I kiss you?” Rhaenyra repeated, slower and with more emphasis on each word – because there was not a universe in which she would want Alicent to misinterpret her meaning, to think she hadn’t also caught her eye.
(The logical part of her gasped weakly, trying to persuade her heart by pointing out that just because Alicent had once been interested in her didn’t mean it was still the case. Boldly, brashly, Rhaenyra tossed all logic aside and dared to hope.)
Alicent stared at her for what felt like another eternity, so still Rhaenyra wondered whether she was breathing. It lasted long enough that she started to fear her logic had been right, but then–
A single nod.
And Rhaenyra’s heart soared.
She leaned closer, slowly and carefully, a small part of her convinced Alicent would change her mind, would retract her consent, if she moved too fast, but this infinite moment was still sweet, still filled with hope. When they were close enough to share the same breath, Rhaenyra paused, a final gasp of her logical mind, but Alicent grasped the collar of Rhaenyra’s shirt urgently, seeming to all the world like she couldn’t bear the thought of renewed distance, and that was all the incentive Rhaenyra needed to close the space between them.
The first touch of their lips was everything all at once – electric and soft, a breath of fresh air and the first drink of water after nearly dying of thirst, the validation of her hopes and the nascency of a novel dream. It was warmth and comfort, newness and familiarity.
It was everything Rhaenyra had been looking for and more.
The touch was brief and hesitant and filled with longing, and it sparked in her a new flame so bright she knew there was no going back. How would she ever live again without being able to meet Alicent’s lips with her own? How would she survive if she were to lose her?
They separated. A heartbeat later, they met again in the middle, almost desperately, the long-awaited relief after moons of longing and pining.
Their lips detached and came back together over and over again, so many times Rhaenyra lost count, but they never were apart for long, and the distance was never greater than a finger-width.
When they stopped, their lips were red and puffy and their breathing ragged, and Rhaenyra’s hands were cradling Alicent’s jaw while Alicent was still gripping Rhaenyra’s collar with a death grip.
“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Rhaenyra whispered, touching her forehead to Alicent’s.
Her pulse was jumping so erratically she could feel it in her neck. It would’ve surprised her to react like this to mere kisses (and not even truly deep ones) if she didn’t know herself well enough to understand that it was because she had been kissing Alicent – because a buried wish of hers had come true and proven to be everything she’d wanted.
Because Alicent had asked for it, had kissed her back.
“Do it again.”
Rhaenyra obliged.
~~~~~o~~~~~
The sun was starting to come down when the intensity of the moment subsided enough for them to talk. Still, they didn’t pull too far away from each other, shifting on the couch instead until Rhaenyra was half-lying on it with Alicent resting along her side, toying with the rings of Rhaenyra’s left hand while her right traced figures on her shoulder.
“I didn’t expect that I would’ve caught your eye the way you caught mine,” Rhaenyra finally said softly, reluctant to disturb this delicate air around them. “I didn’t even dare hope for it. I was prepared to keep quiet about it... I did not want to risk our friendship if you didn’t like me back.”
“You thought I would stop talking to you?”
Rhaenyra frowned pensively. “I don’t know that I thought it as such,” she replied honestly. “I just feared things would change between us, and not for the better. Had I for a second believed you could like me... I feel like a coward, now, hiding behind your ignorance of my feelings to court you.”
“You’ve been courting me?” Alicent asked, her voice showing how startled she’d become by this revelation as much as her slight jolt.
“Subconsciously,” said Rhaenyra, “at least at first. After I realized what I was doing, I tried to stop, but I would still catch myself from time to time.”
“You were still braver than me.”
“You are the one who said I’d caught your eye.”
“Not in so many words,” Alicent argued. “And you asked to kiss me. Had I truly been brave, I would’ve taken the initiative instead of leaving it in your hands.”
Rhaenyra didn’t reply. She’d grown up with stories of her mumuña marching up to the boy she wanted to kiss the living daylights out of him in plain view of their whole family and foreign dignitaries, claiming his hand in marriage and demanding he give her a child, had mostly emulated that brashness when it came to pursuing her own intended, so her idea of taking initiative in a romance was far bolder than asking to kiss someone after that said person had manifested she’d at one point been interested in Rhaenyra. A risk, to be sure, but not to the level she was used to.
(Whether her family would see it in the same way remained to be seen, but she was sure both her mumuña and kekepa would argue it was their own influence.)
“Besides,” Alicent continued, “I don’t think I would’ve had the courage to ask if I could kiss you, even if I’d been sure. You weren’t sure and still asked.”
Well, it had been somewhat bold of Rhaenyra. Not as much as what her mumuña had done, but still. She supposed it could be argued that it had been her taking the initiative, between both of them, especially if Alicent was sure she wouldn’t have started their first kiss.
Perhaps her idea of what constituted taking initiative was skewed by growing up with her mumuña as an example.
“I wouldn’t have if I hadn’t been overtaken by hope,” she admitted.
“Didn’t you just say you’ve been courting me?”
“Not intentionally. If I’d been more in control of myself, I wouldn’t have imposed my feelings on you that way, not while being sure you didn’t like me.”
Alicent looked up from their joined hands with a frown. It was unfair how gorgeous she looked even with her brows furrowed like that. Before she could learn why this beautiful woman was looking displeased, Rhaenyra leaned forward to kiss her again, swallowing a sigh that delighted her to no end.
“Will you go on a date with me?” she asked, her lips still brushing Alicent’s.
Had she been more aware of herself, she would’ve been almost ashamed of the breathiness of her voice, the pleading of her tone, but she was drunk in Alicent and too far gone to be analytical of herself. In another world she might’ve thought this was unbecoming of a Valyrian princess, let alone the heir to the throne, but in this one it was all she could do to keep that almost-nonexistent distance long enough to hear Alicent’s reply.
It felt like an eternal heartbeat before Alicent spoke, her “yes” a whisper against Rhaenyra’s elated kiss.
The woman she loved had kissed her back and agreed to go on a date with her. This was one of the best days of Rhaenyra Targaryen’s life.
(And still, unbidden, a kernel of doubt remained – would Alicent stayed when she inevitably learnt who she really was? When she was faced with the scrutiny that accompanied dating the current Perzys Dārilaros of Valyria?)
(It would be more than a year before her doubts died, before she was convinced Alicent would stay.)