Ｓｅｖｅｎ
𝓇𝑒𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹𝓈 & 𝒷𝒶𝒹 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈
╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝
Perfect stillness reigned.
But it had been for two months. Two months, drowned in research papers, case methods where she was immersed in litigations and analyses of judicial reasonings. She had little sleep and every surface of every table in her loft were filled with articles and case studies. She'd had little time for much else, not that she didn't try.
After her first went unanswered, she wrote out dozens of texts to her uncle, erasing every single one of them. Ultimately, giving him dead silence on her end, refusing to allow herself to be ghosted after swallowing her pride for a double text. She was humiliated enough after he left her alone, confused and reeling and half drunk on him. She even smelled like him.
She would not debase herself.
Rhaenyra: hey
delivered 1:34 pm
Rhaenyra Targaryen dug her face into her hands, slumping against the cafe table as she thought of fun ways she could die. If she had her own dragon, a replica of her house sigal, she'd throw herself into its gaping jaws. Somehow, something she normally wouldn't think twice about, a single message, had delivered more morifcation than every moment of puberty combined.
"Sorry I'm late," Alicent said, sitting down across from her as Rhaenyra struggled to get out of her stupor. "Are you okay?" Currently, she liked to think she was put together. A confident law student who didn't get rejected by her own uncle. A beautiful heiress who didn't get ghosted by that uncle.
Rhaenyra began to laugh, slow at first, but before long she was leaning back into her seat and losing her mind. Alicent, the poor new mother, just sat there like she was across from a patient from Arkham asylum. She was looking around as if there would be cameras from random civilians who wanted to catch the daughter of one of the richest men in the world across from her childhood friend/step-mother, and losing her mind.
Somehow, the thought made Rhaenyra only laugh longer. She was wearing her incognito sunglasses and a beanie that Laena had knit her last fall. Her signature silver hair was hidden and up at the top of her head, and hopefully she looked like a basic white girl of no significance.
"You're not going to start crying, are you?" Alicent asked, now hiding her face as some of the others in the shop looked their way.
Rhaenyra wouldn't cry. She didn't the night he left her alone, she didn't any other night since, and she wouldn't now. If she did, she knew her humiliation would double, triple, and she'd feel as pathetic and worthless as she had the first night.
"Sorry," she said, trying to stop laughing. "You caught me at a bad moment."
Alicent looked uncomfortable, but stunning considering she had just given birth two weeks ago. A baby boy named Aegon Targaryen, after their long since dead ancestor. She had meant to come see him, visit, if not for Alicent, then at least for her own father. She could not, especially when she was dealing with resentments that Daemon himself had solidified in her mind and ones that her father had yet to put to rest.
And it wasn't her half brother's fault that he was to born into such a deranged family.
Alicent was silent, looking uncomfortable, despite this meeting being her idea. Rhaenyra had agreed out of morbid curiosity more than a desire to make amends as Laena had urged her to do. Now, both girls hadn't an idea of what to talk about. Before, they'd gossip about boys, about how they were in bed or how they kissed.
Obviously, considering the last person Rhaenyra kissed was her uncle and Alicent was shagging Rhaenyra's father, that topic was crossed out in permanent marker.
"This is awkward," Rhaenyra stated dryly, and Alicent snorted, covering her face to hide the laugh.
"I'm trying to make it not be," Alicent said, now brushing her palm across her forehead before dragging her knuckles down her cheek and resting it over her mouth. "I just thought it might be nice to talk."
"We talk," Rhaenyra said, her voice in a monotone as she finally reached for her oatmilk latte, untouched during her breakdown.
"Last we said anything to one another, it was not about pleasant things," Alicent said, alluding to the drunk celebration that ended with Rhaenyra trying to fuck her own bodyguard. Since then, she had yet to see Criston Cole, but that had to do with school getting in the way of galas and fundraisers that she'd normally need protection at.
"What do you want to say?" Rhaenyra asked, tapping her fingers against the glass of the latte, her french tips clicking against the porcelain.
"I want to know how you are. How school is. What has you opening your messages five times in the last forty seconds," Alicent explained, and Rhaenyra glanced up from checking her messages again. She met Alicent's fond smile, half obscured with her hand.
"I'm just being crazy," Rhaenyra said, resting her hand against her cheek, absently tracing the length of her bottom lip.
"Do you want to talk about it? Tell me about him," Alicent said carefully, pausing. "Or her. Whichever." She cleared her throat, showing she was uncomfortable, but leaned forward, indicating she wanted to know anyway.
Rhaenyra set down her latte, thumb still resting against her lip. Her jaw was clenched, but she exhaled the breath she hadn't let go of since he kissed her. "Do you have twenty-four hours?" Rhaenyra used to tell Alicent about everything, but some things, you can't expect anyone to understand. That didn't mean she couldn't say anything at all.
Alicent's face brightened, scooting closer. It was all so familiar, lattes in Upper East New York, late-night talks about crushes, and easy silences. They hadn't managed to get the last one right, but perhaps it did take time. Not that either of them had much to spare.
"I'll just clear my schedule," Alicent said, just as a latte was placed in front of her. It had a beautiful snail design, one of the five this place was known for. "Thank you," Alicent said with crinkled eyes as the barista and her exchanged pleasantries before he left.
"It's nothing," Rhaenyra said, meeting Alicent's incredulous and judgmental expression that Rhaenyra had forgotten she was so good at. "I'm just being ghosted."
Alicent's brows shot up. "Someone ghosted you?" Somehow, she looked both amused and happy about that, before it settled into that patient expression that could put many at ease. "For how long?"
Rhaenyra looked away, as if in thought, as if she didn't know the answer instinctually. "Two months. I know, laugh it up."
"At least tell me that you are not hung over another guy without even a GED and a bedframe," Alicent said with an amused smile that finally brought out Rhaenyra's.
"You need to let that go," Rhaenyra said, covering her entire face with her palm. "It's embarrassing." She had given that boy nearly forty grand for him to start up his own band. It wasn't a huge sum of money for her, but certainly not easy to withdraw. She had been certain it was love, but now, Rhaenyra doubted she even understood the word.
"At least you supported his dreams to travel," Alicent said with another laugh, as both girls remembered how that asshole had up and left to 'find himself' with the money that she gave him.
"Fuck that guy," Rhaenyra muttered, running a tongue across her sharp canine. "This one is different," she finally admitted, grabbing her latte again, swirling it, and reminding herself of the sloshing wine and his lips on her neck. "He's all I think about."
Alicent didn't pry further, just reached over and grabbed onto Rhaenyra's empty hand from where it rested on the table. Her grip was firm, soft, and familiar. Rhaenyra stared at it for a long moment, her heart softening ever so slightly.
"They are all the same shades of bad," Alicent whispered, her thumb rubbing circles on the back of Rhaenyra's hand. "And if he's not answering your profound messages of 'hey' or 'what's up'," Alicent continued, sending Rhaenyra a knowing smile that earned one in return. "Then the best revenge is to live your life and be happy without them. It drives them crazy to know they aren't a part of it or on your mind."
"But I am crazy and he is on my mind," Rhaenyra said carefully.
"Don't let him see that. You are a Targaryen," Alicent replied with a snort. "He is just another sheep."
Rhaenyra's lips pursed, and she found herself wanting to laugh again. Oh certainly, this might be a secret she'd take to her grave. Not that it mattered since Daemon's will was his own and he'd do whatever he wanted as he always does. Two months showed her that. It showed her that attraction did not equate to commitment or even mutual longing.
"I suppose now isn't a good time to invite you to Aegon's party, but I am going to try anyway," Alicent said with some hesitation. It immediately sent a chill into the room that even the heat of their lattes couldn't warm. Rhaenyra was aware of Alicent's hand still on hers, but somehow, she had gone numb.
"Party for what? It's not his birthday," Rhaenyra said, trying to keep her voice even.
"A celebration of family coming together," Alicent replied, her brows drawn together in that expression she made when she was nervous. "It wouldn't be right without you there and I want you to see."
"See what?" Rhaenyra said, jaw clenching.
"That I am not trying to replace Aemma and Aegon won't replace you," Alicent said, and she was a brave one for using that name when she had married her father within a year of Aemma's death.
Rhaenyra was too exhausted to express the anger that settled over her, so she merely buried it underneath everything else. "Whose coming?" Rhaenyra refused to ask exactly what she wanted, as if his name was a curse and it would drag out the tears she didn't want to shed.
Alicent's expression brightened, "It's small. I don't want to overwhelm him is all. Just immediate family and friends."
Small for a Targaryen, even a former Hightower, did not mean the same thing as it would to many others. It also didn't answer her question. "Our immediate family meaning?"
"Daemon wasn't invited," Alicent said with an exasperated roll of her eyes. "It wasn't my decision, I assure you. Viserys made the call after, well, I'm sure you heard."
"Heard what?" Rhaenyra asked, keeping her expression blank.
Alicent let go of Rhaenyra's hand to rub her temples, a move that Rhaenyra had grown accustomed to seeing associated with Daemon Targaryen. "Where do I begin? Perhaps with the DUI that our legal team spent four weeks taking care of. Or perhaps Rhea Royce."
"What about Rhea Royce?" Rhaenyra asked, her lips pursed and her blood running hot.
"Well, I don't know what the hell happened, but apparently he married her in a shotgun wedding. No point hiding it," Alicent said with a scowl. "Media is releasing a story on the morrow about a wedding to save face for a child on the way. If you believe that."
Rhaenyra wondered, later that night, how she managed to hear that with a straight face. She wondered how she managed to laugh about it as if it was all funny. It all became a blur of white-nose later when she curled up in her tub.
"Ah," was all Rhaenyra said, somehow surprised, yet not. It was a Daemon thing to do, even more so if Royce was actually pregnant, and predictably unpredictable of all, if he had done all this within days of their last interaction.
"So, yeah, that happened and Viserys is livid with the bad press," Alicent said with a tired shake of her head.
"I'll go," Rhaenyra said, eyes lidded and her voice dry. "For my father and for burying the bad blood. It seems we have enough of it."
Alicent's smile was back, and it was as warm as sizzling honey. Her eyes were watering, but she looked away to hide it. "You have no idea what that means to me."
It made Rhaenyra feel like a bit of a dick, for how little it meant to her. However, it was lucky that Rhaenyra could feel anything at all. She was a Faberge egg, just waiting to crack, but she would not in public, over a half-empty latte, and a person who was only sort of a friend.
No, she would wait until she got to her tub, where she would drip tears into the water.
Rhaenyra: hey
read 9:26 pm
─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────
Criston Cole showed up at her flat at 6 pm, on the dot, in a designer suit that she had sent to him the day after trying to kiss him. It fit him perfectly since she had an eye for that sort of thing. Rhaenyra's gaze trailed over him, unapologetically checking him out as he adjusted his lapels with an expression not unlike anxiety. Somehow, that kind expression nearly healed the repulsive weeks she had been having.
"I was expecting Harwin," Rhaenyra stated, teeth gnawing on her bottom lip as Criston's curved up.
"My apologies that you are saddled with me in his stead," he replied, watching her carefully as she motioned for him to come inside. She had yet to put on her shoes, so now her bare feet were pressed against the cool hardwood floor of her loft. The only sign of her own nerves was displayed with her left rubbing along the top of her right. "I can wait out here," he said, referring to the front porch that led to the street, near the many plants she had stacked outside to make the place feel less like a factory and more like something of hers. The only problem was apparently they needed water, and she barely drank enough herself.
Criston must have seen that, as his eyes scanned over a dying fern with an amused expression. She found she rather liked that too. It was nice, since so many things were out of her control, to find something in it. He was holding his keys, a ring of them, and she took them from him with a giggle. She stepped inside, holding them away from him.
"You are certainly in high spirits," he stated, brows drawn as she took another step back, away from where he went to reach for them.
"I'm not going to have my way with you here, Ser Cole," Rhaenyra said with a wide grin, her red dress flowing between her legs as she moved. She had it designed special, with shimmering scale-like shoulders, made with thin, leaf-like pieces of hand-crafted gold. It had long white sleeves that dropped over her arms and made her feel like a fairy. The front was not at all modest, draping down in a skin-tight design that showed off cleavage she did not have prior to breast tape.
She looked like a snack, and considering Daemon wasn't going to be here to see it, she made a note to pose extra for the paparazzi she had tipped off to be at the front steps of the country club Alicent had booked. Did it make her feel guilty for using Alicent like this? Perhaps. Would she still do it? Most definitely.
"You are in quite the mood, princess," Criston said, stepping inside and unable to hide his smile. He closed the door behind him, and Rhaenyra ran her tongue over her bottom lip before laughing.
"Do I make you nervous, Ser Cole?" Rhaenyra asked, holding out the keys and moving them out of his grasp at the last moment.
"Your father signs my checks, so forgive me for feeling reluctant about upsetting you," Criston stated, watching as both her brows raised, having not considered that he was concerned for his job. She tossed him back his keys with a laugh, watching him catch them in one hand.
"Your job is safe. Unless you try to murder me in my own home, which would be quite rude, you are not in any danger of losing anything," she said, eyes scanning down to his hand where Laena had been right. He did have an abstinence ring, which was quite hilarious since she always equated such things to Catholic white boys. The sort with daddies who were publically anti-abortion, only to send a four hundred dollar check for their mistresses to use on a planned parenthood visit.
Criston's lips raised, and he did have quite an adorable smile. It didn't make her stomach do flips, but shit if Rhaenyra didn't try. She wanted to try. So what if she pressed her arms together to show off more cleavage or managed to turn the simple act of tying her shoes into a sexual experience. Flirtatiousness wasn't her problem. Being desired by the one she wanted, however, seemed to be an issue.
"You say that," Criston said, running his fingers along her bookshelf near the door. His eyes didn't immediately go to the dirty manga and instead, to the many shelves of classic literature that she only kept to appear worldly. She certainly read Emily Brontë and Hemingway, but it was a chore. "But I suspect that should I knock a vase over, I'd be looking at my own severance package by the end of the week."
Rhaenyra let out another laugh, tying the shoe in graceful loops around her lower calf. They certainly weren't uncomfortable, the bare minimum for paying 8 grand for them, but she wasn't about to run laps in them. "Depends on the vase. The one next to you is from China, a private collection, and is worth half a million," she said, glancing over to the vase atop the mahogany stand. It had intricate leaf and plant details, and almost immediately Criston stepped ten feet away from it.
It was actually from Hobby Lobby, but watching the horror rise on his face made her want to cackle. She may be rich, but that didn't mean she'd spend 500k on a vase. She believed in charity and fundraisers, and her spending on something frivolous would kill public perception of her.
Also, her dad would murder her.
"Everyone should already be there. Are you ready, Ms. Targaryen?" His question was a reminder that she had to meet Aegon Targaryen and pretend like a part of her didn't want to pinch his little head until it popped.
She stood from the couch where she still pictured straddling her uncle. She didn't look towards the wall where he had kissed her, where he had run his lips over her neck and against her pulse. She hadn't looked at that wall for two months. He literally ruined a wall for her.
"As ready as I'll ever be. I'm just glad you'll be there." Rhaenyra was a hopeless flirt, and she held out her arm for him to loop his own through. It would be nice to erase one kiss with another and perhaps she could fuck him out of her system. It hadn't worked for the last two years, but Criston Cole was kind and handsome.
I suppose he will do, Rhaenyra thought, watching him tangle his arm into hers. He was ever the gentleman. He opened doors for her, closed them too, and he asked permission before touching her waist. They were apparently the bare minimum, but Rhaenyra hadn't seen them before.
When they reached the beautiful country club, an old building that had been touched up for centuries, she was not surprised that the press had already been waiting outside the gates. She took extra care in the stare she gave Criston as she exited the car, using the sultry, shy smile that didn't feel natural but likely looked it.
His hand was soft in her own, if not for the slight callouses on his fingertips. Her thigh was exposed as she stepped out of the black car, the slit showing off her black fishnets. It was not a coincidence that she had the car park in such a way so the press would capture her good angle. "You done posing?" Criston asked as he looped his arm through her own.
"Aren't you observant?" Rhaenyra retorted with a bright laugh as she rested her head against his shoulder for a moment. The stone path was decorated with an archway of towering roses and daisies, vines carefully crafted to loop around each stone arch. There were some family from afar, distant Baratheon cousins, Velaryons, some Hightowers and Martells, but there were only four true Targaryens. Despite what her uncle believed, Aegon counted as a fourth. That was the problem and it wouldn't get better whether she hated him or not.
It was certainly not a small gathering as Alicent had said it would be.
They entered the venue, an old, rather plantation-looking building that certainly added a degree of scrutiny associated with the Targaryen name considering they owned it. It had huge windows and double staircases. The furniture looked as if it had been plucked from the 1800s, with antique floral arrangements and designs.
Alicent came straight at her, a bright, but a slightly stressed smile on her face. "Rhaenyra! I am so glad you are here. Thank you Mr. Cole for bringing her."
Rhaenyra watched Alicent basically shoo away her future booty call, much to Rhaenyra's irritation. She refused to show it and instead forced a smile for her stepmom. "It's awful Rhae," Alicent said, looping her arm through Rhaenyra's and steering her through the crowd of distant cousins, all sucking up for inheritance or networking for their own children. "The caterer brought the wrong number of hors d'oeuvres, the placement cards on the tables were supposed to be in Luxia, but instead they were printed in Cleopatra. It looks like a renaissance fair. Worst of all, the press is all outside so I know someone tipped them off."
Guilty, Rhaenyra thought, stretched too thin to be remorseful about something so small.
She walked them over to one of the tables, which read Velaryen, and there, written in a Greek-looking font, was Corlys Velaryen's name. It didn't seem like a big deal, but Rhaenyra wasn't about to say that and turn Alicent's wrath on her.
"It's classy," Rhaenyra said dryly, searching for the bar without moving her head.
"It's awful. This is supposed to be Aegon's day, and now look at the mess," Alicent said, and even as she forced Rhaenyra to look around, she saw nothing amiss. The decorations were immaculate with gorgeous twinkling lights and flowers that looked real but were actually made of hand-crafted glass that lit up from the sepals.
"He won't remember it," Rhaenyra said carefully, and now Alicent scowled at her.
"There will be pictures and videos. He'll know," Alicent said, and Rhaenyra nodded with a fake apology, regardless of how Rhaenyra doubted whether he was 2 or 40, he'd never care about the font.
"Where's the bar?" Rhaenyra finally asked, determined not to spend this entire night sober. She didn't want to get smashed, but a single shot to take the edge off wasn't going to kill anyone.
Alicent snorted, walking them both towards the next room, looping around tables where a glowing 'D' shaped bar came into view. "Once we get you some wine, you'll meet Aegon."
"No wine," Rhaenyra said quickly, even as her heart panged against her ribcages. She was trying so hard to appear normal, even once she passed a small group of old women, of differing families, gossiping about the shotgun wedding and a possible bastard in the bride's belly. No names were mentioned, but Rhaenyra was no fool. Or maybe this was all happening because she was.
"Two Pisco Sours please," Alicent said, her smile slowly coming back. The bartender, a young-looking kid, smiled and got to work.
"Where's dad?" Rhaenyra finally asked, wondering if she'd like a Pisco Sour. Alicent liked to take control of the small things, which was no problem for Rhaenyra since she seemed to be getting much of her life wrong.
"He was chatting with Corlys last I saw," Alicent said, leaning her back against the bar, the band from the other room reaching them in soft lounge-style tunes. "It's all business for them, no matter the occasion. I wouldn't fault you if you wanted to join."
Sure you wouldn't, Rhaenyra thought, leaning on the bar next to Alicent. She thought again on Daemon's words, about Otto and Alicent and the idea on a manipulation of a marriage. She thought about it for approximately two seconds before deciding fuck Daemon. "I'd rather spend time with you. We have both become different women, so perhaps it's time to get know each other again."
Alicent's eyes watered, making Rhaenyra feel like a dick for the cold shoulder that she had once felt completely justified. Perhaps it was, but Rhaenyra hardly knew what was right anymore. "I'd like that," Alicent said, wiping her palm across her face, under her eyes. "I'm sorry. I think it's the hormone imbalance. After Aegon, I have been a wreck."
Rhaenyra reached over, wiping the back of her hand over Alicent's cheek with a smile, one elbow still propped on the bar behind her as she stared at her ex-best friend. There wasn't a word for what they were now, but she hoped to one day find it. She pulled away, wiping away the tear. "I missed you."
Alicent smiled, grabbing Rhaenyra's hand in both of her own, and kissing it swiftly. "It's been difficult without you. Everyone is always looking for an angle. I used to just slip right under these people and they never noticed I was there. Now, it's like they are all waiting for me to mess up. I am no longer Alicent Hightower, and who I am now I do not know."
Rhaenyra listened, trying to find ill will or terrible intentions, but she only saw Alicent. It was getting increasingly difficult to hate her, but somehow, complete forgiveness felt like a weakness. She was either bitter or weak and lost either way.
The sours were finished, a foamy cocktail with a layer of egg white and lime juice. Rhaenyra took a sip and shrugged, taking a longer one. She wanted wine. She wanted Daemon.
She wanted to hit him with her car. And then maybe her mouth. Whichever suited her at the moment.
"They've always been like that," Rhaenyra said, now turning to her side to face Alicent. She rested her head against her palm, her elbow sliding against the bar. "You see Laena over there, talking to Enith Martell?" Alicent turned to look over her shoulder, not at all conspicuously, making Rhaenyra laugh. Truly the worst gossip, I'll have to reteach her,Rhaenyra thought with raised brows.
Enith and Laena were laughing, sharing a combined joke, likely talking about medicine considering Enith just started her residency. "What about them?" Alicent asked, staring at the two who looked to be the best of friends.
"She started the rumor that Laena is a hermaphrodite," Rhaenyra said with a roll of her eyes, watching as Alicent's face contorted in self-righteous fury.
"What for?" Alicent asked, now leaning closer to finally whisper. Not a complete lost cause, Rhaenyra thought with a smile.
"The socialites don't need a reason to bring down each other. We do it because we are bored and we can," Rhaenyra said with a shrug, taking another sip of her drink. Alicent looked uncomfortable but intrigued nonetheless.
"You don't partake in such baseless rumors, do you?" The music changed to a softer melody at Alicent's question.
"I'll do it to Enith Martell," Rhaenyra said with a shrug, her blank gaze passing over the tall woman, built like an Amazon, and back towards Laena, who grinned and waved at her.
Alicent pursed her lips, as if in deep thought. "I suppose if it's for a good cause," she finally agreed, and both girls finally laughed.
"Come on, I suppose it's time to meet your son," Rhaenyra said, only once she downed her drink and ordered another. If Alicent looked giddy before, the mention of Aegon made her lips spread into a grin. She practically dragged Rhaenyra towards the boy being held in the arms of a nanny.
Aegon had the Targaryen's signature silver hair, his eyes a deep lilac, and a smile that looked like her father's. Rhaenyra watched with an awkward shuffle from foot to foot as Alicent lifted him into her arms, where he screeched like he was being murdered and different guests turned their heads and lifted their noses. Alicent's face fell, trying to rock him.
The baby was so huge that Rhaenyra glanced in between him and the width of Alicent's narrow pelvis in horror.
"He's not usually so rowdy," Alicent defended, but Rhaenyra spotted the nanny's side eye that said it all. The baby continued to cry and the band's voice barely hid it.
"Do you want to take him for a walk around the gardens?" Rhaenyra suggested, and Alicent sent her a grateful smile that lit up the room.
So that was how Rhaenyra ended up spending her Saturday, watching her first crush/new mom, breastfeed her half-brother in her real mother's favorite country club in New York. Her mother was even the one to add the gardens they stood in.
Rhaenyra took a long drink from her mojito, just to cover the laugh.
"I am so sorry," Alicent said, sitting on the stone bench as Aegon went to town on her left nipple. Rhaenyra watched in horror as he engulfed it, nearly half the breast in his mouth. "Why are you looking at it like that, it's natural."
"He's literally making my nipples hurt," Rhaenyra said, watching as Alicent picked off a rose from the bush beside her and chucked it at her.
"You are so immature," Alicent said, but she was smiling, clutching Aegon to her with the love that only a mother could have. Somehow, it made the sadness only rise in Rhaenyra.
"Were you scared?" Rhaenyra finally asked, gnawing on her bottom lip. She was leaning against the pillar, balancing on her heels as her bare back slid against the stone. The cool air was a relief to the stifling party, although the noise still reached them from here. "Of, you know, the process?"
Alicent's eyes softened with her palm against the back of Aegon's head, stroking the bits of white hair from his tiny scalp. "I was terrified. I was there too, Rhaenyra. I know it wasn't my mother, but, and you might not believe me, but I loved her too." Rhaenyra bit her tongue, trying to steady it, to listen and not just react. "I was so scared that I wouldn't make it either."
It was a rare thing to die during childbirth these days, but Rhaenyra had seen the blood, the swollen belly, and the pained cries. It stuck with her, even after all this time. "I don't want children," Rhaenyra said, watching Alicent's hand still on the baby's head.
"I hope you change your mind," Alicent said carefully. "It was terrifying, but when I saw him, all the pain that brought him into this world just," Alicent paused, her eyes far away. "Fell away."
"Do you love him?" Rhaenyra asked, looking down into her glass, half empty and filled with mint.
"Aegon? Of course," Alicent said with a laugh.
"No. My father," Rhaenyra said, glancing up at her in time to see Alicent's eyes dart to the left, as if the question required consideration.
"I do," she said carefully, and maybe it was the truth, maybe Rhaenyra wanted it to be. Maybe, after her mother, she wanted her dad to be with someone who loved him with his every breath, if not to ease the pain. "It's a love that isn't always easy, Rhaenyra, but despite what gossips and snakes would say, it is true."
Rhaenyra nodded, drowning the last of her mojito. "Good. Good," she said, repeating it again, even as her eyes began to water. "I'm glad."
Alicent's bottom lip trembled, but she sniffed twice as if to stop anything from falling. "He loves you, you know. So much." Alicent laughed, dabbing her eyes with her fingertips. "You should hear how he talks about you."
"I know," Rhaenyra said carefully, sniffing. "Talking about me has never been his problem."
Alicent's jaw clenched, her eyes clouding with conflicting emotions, all merging together and transforming into a heavy silence. It lingered between them, a wound still bleeding, and something that words on their own wouldn't heal. "Do you think I could be alone for a while?" Alicent said slowly, softly, and Rhaenyra glanced up from her glass. "It's such a rarity these days. Just him and I."
Rhaenyra nodded, taking a deep breath and walking up to Alicent. She reached forward, placing a soft kiss on her perfumed head, the brown curly strands were soft on both her palms as she held her head. "Despite it all," Rhaenyra said, pulling away. "I do want your happiness. That was never in question."
Alicent sniffed again with a grateful nod, and Rhaenyra left her there, amongst the garden that her real mother had nurtured.
"This family is so fucked," Rhaenyra muttered, reaching into the glass to pull out the mint. She took a bite, her heels clicking against the cobblestones as she forced her feet back to the party.
She spotted Criston, surrounded by her prettiest cousins, all giggling. Shame for Criston that they were all underage, grandchild, and children alike. She watched from the entrance to the club, watched his disquietude like that of a man who didn't fully know himself. It was a nice change.
She cut in front of her Baratheon cousins with a smile. "Don't you three have to catch the school bus in the morning?"
"I don't know," said Brya Baratheon, fifth cousin if Rhaenyra's mental family tree was accurate. Hard to keep track at this point. "Don't you have to catch the hospice bus at seven? Hate to see you miss your bedtime."
Rhaenyra and Brya, the fifteen-year-old nightmare, stared at one another for a moment before Rheanyra let out a sudden laugh. "That was a good one."
"You're an old one," piped up Lucy Baratheon, a year younger than her sister.
"Don't help me," Brya said, rolling her eyes as Lucy flushed.
"I like you three, but scram, or I'll tell your grandfather about the cannabis in your bags," Rhaenyra said, leaning on one hip as she crossed her arms.
"You narc," Brya said, scowling and turning her head back to Criston. "I'll be 18 in a few years. You should hit me up."
"No thank you," Criston said, looking as if he wanted to disappear. Rhaenyra's lips thinned to keep from laughing.
"Your loss," the thirteen-year-old Lucy chimed, and Brya scowled at her.
"Shut up," Brya snapped, grabbing her sisters, one having actually been silent for the entire affair as if she were too embarrassed to speak. From there, Byra dragged them away.
"Three years till eighteen, in case you're wondering," Rhaenyra told him in a teasing tone that made the gallant Criston Cole scowl at her.
"That's disgusting," he muttered, staring up at the ceiling as if he were trying to wipe the entire interaction from his memory.
"It's rather romantic, how one waits for love to bloom," Rhaenyra continued to tease.
"You're so lucky I am paid to stay here with you," he told her, glancing back down at her.
"You're lucky I saved you from jailbait," Rhaenyra shot back. "However will you reward me?"
Criston's lips twitched up, just a tad, before he was serious once more. It was like pulling teeth with this one,Rhaenyra thought with slight annoyance.
"What do you want, Rhaenyra, really?" Criston finally asked, his voice in a whisper. The question was for her, and she wished that it did something for her. She needed to feel the fire, any fire, from anyone really.
"I want a redo," Rhaenyra answered, grabbing his arm with a sly smirk. She carefully led him out towards the gardens, aware that others were watching, but they always would. She wanted them to see, she wanted them to whisper, she wanted everyone to talk, because one right whisper was all it took for Daemon to hear. For him to hear that she could move on too and that she'd do it better.
Criston was silent as they made their way down the opposite side of the gardens, away from where Alicent enjoyed her time with her son. Rhaenyra didn't want to interrupt that, but she also didn't want to be interrupted.
"A redo?" Criston asked, now that they were away from family and wandering ears who wouldn't take kindly to her talking so flirtatiously with someone of low birth.
"I am a fantastic kisser," Rhaenyra said, letting him go with a smile as she walked over to the ferns that her mother had grown from seedlings. She stroked the leaves, her fingers making their way down individual ones. "It's just a shame you didn't see it at its best, and you were the one who said to wait till daylight," she reminded him, now looking over her shoulder to meet his warm stare.
"It's actually quite dark out," Criston said, referring to the moonlight and the many twinkling lights as the only brightness that lit up the garden.
Rhaenyra grinned, "well, you're quite right. So you are going to make me wait?" Rhaenyra let out a laugh, now standing up straight to face him again. Her heels clicked against the cobblestones. "And they say I'm high maintenance."
She met his eyes, biting her bottom lip. He looked conflicted, uncertain, and yet there was a spark there, a dim one, but maybe she could catch it if she touched him. She was smiling as she grabbed his hand with a grin. She dragged him down the path, and his fingers felt light in hers as she led them to the circular greenhouse. "This is my favorite place," she told him, and she swiftly went to open the door, but he was quicker.
He opened it for her, holding it for her to enter.
"You don't have to be a gentleman all the time, ser Cole," she told him with a smile, entering. The inside was pure glass windows, a small well in the middle, surrounded by plants and life and the smells of many flowers. The hard stone slabs were her favorite, having picked them out herself.
"Perhaps I won't, if I have to hear your mocking of it," Criston said with a snort. She grinned at him, walking over to the azaleas that the gardeners were somehow keeping alive considering they had been dying when she brought them. She reached forward, sniffing them.
"I'm not," she said slowly, uncertain for a moment. "Mocking that is. I think it's rather sweet, if not old-fashioned."
"I wouldn't say that," Criston stated, walking to the opposite side of the greenhouse, where the succulents rested against the stone slabs. "You just have a talent for walking into a room and walking out with the worst pick."
Rhaenyra straightened, turning to look at him from over her shoulder. "Are you insulting my taste in men?"
"I've worked for you and your father for ten years, princess," Criston said, giving her a sideways glance. "I've seen your cultivated tastes."
Rhaenyra walked around the well in the middle, her fingertips dragging along the greenery as she smiled. She stopped in front of him. "You should mind your words because you are my cultivated taste."
Criston stared down at her, glancing toward the open greenhouse door.
The silence stretch, open and bare. She stared up at him, languid and airy as she pressed her fingertips to his wrist and dragging her fingertips up the length of his forarm. He watched her with sow blinks, and when he let out a deep breath, she followed it with a nearly nervous smile that made her angry. She wasn't supposed to be the one uncertain or aphrensive, so she pushed it all down.
Criston was staring up in such a way that she thought she lost him. Then, his hands were on her face, cupping her cheeks. He paused, just before reaching her lips, his gaze on her own, and in that pause, she closed her eyes and she felt him. Criston kissed as if there was a punctuation mark at the end of a beautiful sentence, with his resolute pause in both breath and time. He was contemplative and scrupulous, his hands sliding from her arms, down and up, as reverent and amazed at the touch.
His head tilted, leaning into her at an easier angle.
She placed her hand on his chest, sliding up to cup the back of his neck, closing her eyes tighter as her nails dug into his skin and pulled him closer. They separated, eyes heavy and their breaths unsteady.
He pulled away first, turning around as if to walk away. Her brows drew in, her lips still tingling from his kiss as she watched him. Oh if one more man walks away from me, I am going to check into fucking rehab, she thought with rising panic, brief when she spotted him shut the greenhouse door, locking it.
Two steps towards her, and his mouth hit hers, a tad less gentle, if not for the way his hands lovingly stroked through her hair. He walked her backward, her arms wrapping around his neck in a tight embrace as she felt his hands against her back, pressing against her, but not touching her dress's zipper.
She pulled away, her hands still on his face. "You can do whatever you like," she said, her thumb dragging circles on his cheek.
She watched his eyes drag down the red gown, a gorgeous and expensive thing. "I don't want to rip it," he admitted, and slowly her lips spread into a smile, a laugh escaping.
She took a step back from him, her heels clicking along the slabs of rock. She reached behind her, carefully unzipping the side. She did it slowly, her eyes not moving from his as her hands went to the front of her dress where she gripped the small tie that kept it together. She slowly tugged, letting it glide down her shoulders. The golden, armor-like scales were cold in their descent as she slid off the sleeves.
He watched her, reverently, carefully, purposefully, as she slipped out of the dress, letting it hit the ground at her feet.
He knelt before her, grabbing it from the ground where he stared up at her. It wasn't unlike a bow, and she didn't quite hate it. He draped the dress on one of the plants, before his hands touched her calves, sliding up the fishnet stockings.
She watched them glide up, trying to stare into his eyes and see him. He reached the top, and she felt him slowly tug down the stockings, his lips against her thigh as he slid them down, further and further.
She tried to see him, she tried to see only him when his tongue slid up, and up and up. But he was correct in his observations.
Rhaenyra Targaryen never chose the good ones and Criston was not who she saw.