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Rhaenyra Targaryen hated Comic Con. Three days of repetitive questions, superficial red carpets, and socializing with some of the most vapid people she had ever met. But as the lead on one of television’s top shows, she had been contractually obligated for the past few years to attend Comic Con, and so found herself on the eve of her panel at a Velaryon Studios party. Her cousins, Laena and Laenor were known for throwing parties legendary for their discretion, so celebrities of all kinds could unwind without the media getting in.
She pulled up to the hotel three hours late, annoyed when she found the paparazzi still crouched by the entrance — the parasites.
“Rhaenyra! Over here! Where’s Harwin?!” The flashes of their cameras branded themselves on her eyes. She gave a quick wave before heading inside past the security.
She fucking hated Comic Con.
Rhaenyra walked into the thumping of music so loud she could feel it in her chest. Her cousin, Laena was playing the consummate host and had pressed a drink into Rhaenyra’s hand as soon as she approached the bar.
“Is Laenor here?” She asked, taking a sip from her cup.
Laena gestured out toward the dance floor, to where her brother was bouncing wildly, clearly inebriated, pressed to a woman nearly a head shorter than him.
“And who is that?” Rhaenyra drawled. The woman was absolutely stunning — all doe eyes and full lips and flowing auburn curls.
Laena smiled knowingly. “That, dear cousin, is Alicent Hightower.”
“That’s her?” Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow in surprise. Her uncle Daemon had described his new up and coming co-star as a cold and vindictive shrew, painting a picture that looked nothing like the young woman who was currently grinding her truly spectacular ass on Laena’s brother.
“I think I will go and introduce myself.” She threw back the rest of her drink, and started toward the crowd of bodies when a hand on the shoulder stopped her.
“Hey, don’t fuck around with her, okay? She’s sweet,” Laena says, seriously.
“I will be a proper gentleman,” she said, which would have been a much more encouraging statement if she had not been smirking when she said it.
Laena rolled her eyes and waved her away. Rhaenyra wove her way through the crush of people, slapping her cousin on the back when she reached him.
Laenor whooped and threw his arms around Rhaenyra. He pulled back, keeping an arm around her shoulder. “Alicent! This is my cousin-“
“Rhaenyra Targaryen.” Alicent looked up at her through long lashes, and despite the blaring music, Rhaenyra heard the lilt of her name like they were the only two in the room.
“I see my reputation precedes me.” She felt an uncharacteristic blush arise on her cheeks. Gods, she was even more gorgeous up close.
“Hmm.” Alicent’s half smile dimpled her cheek, flushed prettily from exertion. She reached out a slender hand. “Alicent Hightower.”
Rhaenyra reached back, stroked her thumb against the soft skin on the back of Alicent’s hand, and felt Alicent return the gesture.
“Buy me a drink?” Those eyes. The Targaryens were known for their unique eyes, but Rhaenyra knew hers paled in comparison to Alicent Hightower’s. She nodded furiously, shamelessly.
Alicent linked their fingers together and drew her toward the bar. Laenor threw his hands up, exasperated when he realized how quickly she had abandoned him.
“It’s an open bar!” He shouted after them. Alicent laughed in response, head thrown back. Rhaenyra wanted to hear it again and again.
They reached the bar, sliding into two adjacent stools. When Alicent turned toward her, their knees touched.
“What’ll you have?” Rhaenyra gestured to the bartender at the other end of the busy bar.
“Surprise me?” Alicent smiled sweetly at her, eyelashes fluttering as she drew a finger down Rhaenyra’s forearm towards her wrist. There was no way this sly creature was the same woman her Uncle Daemon had described as the “most frigid woman in Westeros.” Rhaenyra realized suddenly why Alicent might not have been receptive to the advances of one of Westeros’ so called Sexiest Men Alive.
And if every aspect of their interaction beforehand hadn’t been a clear enough sign, Rhaenyra eyed how Alicent’s hand was now traced the bulky watch that wrapped around her wrist. Alicent Hightower was clearly a lesbian and Daemon was clearly a fool.
“I’ll have your finest scotch, neat. And for her, a gin martini, with a twist,” Rhaenyra said when the bartender finally appeared before them. “How’d I do?”
Alicent responded with only a simple hum, but Rhaenyra noted the pleased look on her face as she sipped her drink.
“So is this your first convention?” Alicent’s smile turned shy.
“And my first role actually.” Rhaenyra didn’t need to fake the impressed look that appeared on her face. It was rare to be the second highest billed actor on your first booked role. Even she had had her fair share of guest roles on trashy sitcoms before her big break and she had the advantage of coming from a family of actors.
“Well your first Comic Con is always special.” Rhaenyra swept her eyes up and down the length of Alicent’s body, returning her knowing smile when they locked eyes again. “You’re going to fit right in.”
They talked at the bar for hours, until the bartender was taking orders for the last call, and Laena swung by to say goodnight. They walked out of the ballroom together, lingering in the hallway.
Alicent spoke first, sounding more bashful than she had all night. “At the risk of sounding forward, I have a room upstairs.”
She giggled when Rhaenyra wiggled her eyebrows. “Not for anything scandalous. I just… I love talking with you.”
“I love talking with you too.” Rhaenyra smiled at her, hoping it conveyed even an ounce of the contentedness she felt in Alicent’s presence. She gently smoothed her hands over Alicent’s hips, felt a spark at the contact, and hoped she wasn’t alone in feeling this.
They lay awake deep into the night, heads cushioned close on a pillow. Rhaenyra found herself spilling her deepest, most secret, fears to this woman she had known for mere hours. She told her things she had scarcely dared acknowledge for herself: how her mother’s death had broken her and how she sometimes didn’t believe she could ever be whole again.
Alicent had not spewed the same pointless platitudes that so many others had given Rhaenyra before. She knew firsthand how sometimes these things simply did not get better. She had simply held Rhaenyra’s hand and apologized for what had happened to her.
And in return, Alicent had opened up, revealing how she had been raised in a religious cult, and how it had taken her the majority of her life to find freedom and live her life how she wanted for herself. How she had escaped with nothing but her name, the name of the father who had almost destroyed her, and built herself a place in the world.
Eventually, Rhaenyra felt Alicent’s breaths evening out against her neck as she dozed off. The rhythmic rise and fall of her chest against hers began to lull Rhaenyra towards sleep.
Rhaenyra’s last thought before she drifted off was that she would have to cut Comic Con some slack because she was pretty sure she had just met her soulmate.
In the morning, Alicent walked her to the door, braced herself against it as her hands slid up around Rhaenyra’s neck, and drew her in for a hug. When they separated, Rhaenyra felt herself lean back in, gaze flickering from those eyes to those plush lips back to brown slowly being engulfed by an even darker pupil.
Time seemed to slow as one of Rhaenyra’s hands tightened around the curve of Alicent’s waist and the other slid up her back, drawing her even closer.
“Can I kiss you?” She barely dared to even whisper.
Alicent’s reply was muffled as she crushed her lips to Rhaenyra’s. Despite Alicent’s fervent response, the kiss quickly became slow and deep and the best first kiss Rhaenyra had ever had. For the rest of her life she would remember the way Alicent’s fingers tangled in her hair as she rose just the slightest bit onto the tips of her toes and how under the hint of stale alcohol on her breath, she tasted Alicent for the first time.
Rhaenyra Targaryen fucking loved Comic Con.
Comic Con Blind Item #3
This A list nepo baby and her older A list fellow nepo baby family member recently almost came to blows when the younger snatched the elder’s new up and coming co-star out from under his nose. What is family compared to a woman’s love?
Rhaenyra tapped her foot as she slumped back in her chair, glancing at her watch to see, to her dismay, that it had only been five minutes since the last time she had looked. Her phone buzzed in her pocket.
Laenor
You boarding yet? Your girl got here like 20 minutes ago.
Rhaenyra
Not for another ten minutes. Any sign she knows I’m coming?
Laenor
Nah, she’s been moping, complaining to Laena how it’s been months since she’s seen you. 🤮
Rhaenyra
😏
She smiled down at her phone when it pinged with another message and swiped it open. It was a series of pictures, one of Alicent and Laena, cheeks pressed together, and another of Alicent pouting playfully, full lips red with Rhaenyra’s favorite shade.
Alicent
Wish you were here 😘
Rhaenyra
I miss you, beautiful.
Rhaenyra hadn’t seen Alicent in almost three months, thanks to clashing shooting schedules, and Rhaenyra missed her desperately. Though they hadn’t become official for another two months after they first met, Rhaenyra had always considered that party to be an anniversary of sorts for them. Her show didn’t have a panel at Comic Con this year, but Alicent’s did, and Rhaenyra couldn’t pass up the opportunity. So she’d begged the director to move some things around and here she was now taking a red eye flight to see her girl.
“H-Hello?” A voice drew Rhaenyra’s attention from her phone. A young girl, who couldn’t be older than 15, stood in front of her, with her mother hovering protectively behind her. “Are you Rhaenyra Targaryen?”
“Hi.” She gave a little tug on the old gray beanie that had clearly failed to hide her long blonde locks. “I am. What’s your name?”
“I’m Sara.” Her hands shook as she shoved them into her jacket pockets. “Would you mind taking a photo with me?”
“She’s seen the latest season of Visenya almost four times,” her mother interjected. Sara flushed.
“Thank you! That’s amazing. I would be honored to take a photo.” This was Rhaenyra’s favorite part of her job, getting to give a little joy back to the kids who liked her work. She stood and smiled for the photo, hoping her sweats didn’t look too shabby.
“Are you guys flying out to King’s Landing for the convention?” She asked after Sara had checked and approved her mother’s photo.
“Yes, we are. I could’ve sworn your show didn’t have a panel this year. Sara was devastated when we found out.” Rhaenyra laughed and smiled apologetically.
“We don’t have a panel this year, but we will be back next year. We’ve been hard at work shooting the next season, and I hope the wait will be worth it. Anything else you’re looking forward to seeing?” Although the girl appeared nervous, she didn’t shy away when Rhaenyra maintained eye contact with her.
“I’m hoping I’ll be able to get into the panel for The Seven.” When she held up her phone, Rhaenyra noticed that the seven pointed star emblazoned on the back of the case.
“Oh, is that the show with the beautiful girl you fancy? The one with the red hair?”
“Mum!” Sara screeched, face redder than the aforementioned Alicent’s hair.
“Flight 714 to King’s Landing is now beginning boarding. Business Executive Class members please approach the ticket counter.” The announcement crackled over the intercom. Rhaenyra picked her bag off the floor, slinging it over her shoulder.
“It was nice to meet you, Sara,” she said, with a wink. “You’ve got great taste.”
SPOTTED:
Rhaenyra Targaryen taking a photo with a young fan at the airport before boarding a late flight to King’s Landing. Wonder what she’s up to since her show isn’t scheduled to have a panel at the Con?
@AlicentHightower just posted a photo
A tray of breakfast foods and two mimosas perched atop a white bedspread. Two hands are intertwined in the corner of the photo. The caption reads: Happiest.
The sun was just peeking over the horizon when Rhaenyra was rudely awoken by a bucket of water to the face.
“Niece.”
“Fuck you, Daemon.” She buried her head beneath a nearby pillow, her hangover pounding in her temples as the water soaked into her shirt.
“Get up, this is pathetic.” He ripped the pillow off her head. “How long has it been?”
“Six months.” And one week, four days, and six hours. Not that she could ever admit it to him.
Rhaenyra rolled onto her back. Daemon stood over her, hair cut shorter than she’d ever seen it, with a greasy bag in his hand. He tossed it into her lap.
“Sober up. Makeup’s coming up in half an hour.” He threw himself into a nearby chair, slouching in that way of his.
“I’ve never seen you this cuntstruck over someone. She must’ve been a tiger in the—” A wet pillow bounced off his head.
“Don’t talk about her like that.” The threat would have been more imposing if Rhaenyra hadn’t had a biscuit shoved into her mouth, but Daemon softened at the look on his niece’s face.
“If it makes you feel better, she’s been miserable too.” Alicent was ever the professional, but Daemon had noticed how she’d had to spend extra time in hair and makeup covering up bloody scabs on her fingers. He would deny it to the end of his days, but after their first table read of the season, he had cut his trademark hair short because he had seen how she had flinched at the sight of it.
“No, Uncle, that really doesn’t make me feel any better,” she choked out.
He walked over and put his hands onto her shoulders. “What happened? Last I saw you two were blissfully happy.”
It had been at Viserys’ 60th birthday party, a small affair, with family only, at the private estate. They had been attached at the hip, his niece and her girlfriend. They had been dating for almost two and a half years at that point, though they still looked at each other like they were still in that euphoric honeymoon phase.
He’d watched them through the night, seen how they moved, almost as one. Even Viserys, one of the most unobservant people he knew, had seen it; had commented on it during his toast.
‘I have never seen my darling daughter half as happy as she is with you, Alicent. When I look at you two, and the love you share, I see myself and my beloved Aemma.”
Rhaenyra had teared up then, and moved to embrace her father. Alicent had smiled, but Daemon had seen something then, just a glimmer of doubt, fear, pain, on her gorgeous face. But in a blink it was gone, replaced by the beaming smile that only Rhaenyra could elicit.
“I thought we were, but I suppose I was just fooling myself, like always.” Rhaenyra was hunched in on herself, hair limp and eyes tired.
“You know how observant people are, Rhaenyra! Our every move is scrutinized, and Larys said-”
“Fuck Larys! And fuck everyone who isn’t us. This is our relationship, Alicent! It’s been two years. I’m not asking for you to come out tomorrow, but I need something, something that tells me you’re as in this as I am.” Rhaenyra buried her hands in her hair. They had been arguing in circles for hours, and had gotten nowhere.
“Of course I am! You know I am! But it’s not that simple for me.” Alicent pulled Rhaenyra’s hands out of her hair and held them tightly in her own as she knelt before her. “I came from nothing. I have nothing but what I’ve built for myself. I don’t know if I can do it again, Rhaenyra. Lose everything.”
Rhaenyra pulled her up and into her lap, arms around her waist, hands warm against her back. “You wouldn’t lose everything.”
Alicent cupped her cheeks and ran her eyes over the face of the woman she loved. “I don’t know if I can ever give you what you want; what you deserve. Someone who isn’t afraid to kiss you in public. Who doesn’t flinch at a touch. I think I need some time. To figure out… me.” She traced a finger over Rhaenyra’s brow.
Rhaenyra tilted her head up and kissed her until they were both breathless. Their tears mingled on their cheeks.
“I’m going to wait for you.” Rhaenyra pressed her forehead to Alicent’s sternum, breathed in her scent. “As long as it takes. When you’re ready, I’ll be here.”
Alicent laughed wetly, pressing her lips to the top of Rhaenyra’s head. “I’m selfish enough to hope that’s true.”
They had spent one final night together, and had not seen each other since. Months later, Rhaenyra had gone out for one disastrous drink with a footballer named Criston, who had proceeded to tell every media outlet that would listen that they were meant to be. Rhaenyra had dealt with it very maturely, simply posting a vomiting emoji over Criston’s face on her Instagram story and turning off her phone before her publicists could reach her.
There had been one other consequence, positive or negative depending on how you looked at it she supposed, to the whole debacle. It had confirmed for Rhaenyra that she was not over Alicent, would never be over Alicent , and had sent her into another mini spiral that had led her to where she was now: hungover from the annual Velaryon Comic Con party, where she had spent the entire night getting wasted and desperately missing Alicent. She had promised to wait for her, and Rhaenyra was nothing if not impatient. But for Alicent, she would wait for as long as it took.
***
Rhaenyra rested her face on her palm and hoped she looked like she was paying attention as her showrunner answered another repetitive fan question. Her greasy breakfast had barely done its job soaking up her hangover, and the bright lights were making her sweat.
“Okay, unfortunately we’re reaching the end of our time here, so there will be only one more audience question before we have to wrap it up.”
“Hi, my question is for Rhaenyra.” Rhaenyra sat up. She would know that voice anywhere. Alicent stood at the microphone, so lovely it nearly hurt to lay eyes on her. “Can you forgive me for making you wait?”
“Alicent,” she said, scrambling to grab her microphone. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I love you, Rhaenyra Targaryen,” she said anyway, beautifully brave. “I love how you never wake up on time in the morning, but you still always make sure you’ve made me a cup of tea before you leave. I love how you squint when you read because you refuse to admit you need glasses.”
Rhaenyra stood, looking around for a quick way down to the floor. When she found none, she vaulted herself over the table, ignoring the protestations of the security team, and stepped off the stage, landing with a jolt to her knees.
“And I love you for how you never made me feel like I wasn’t enough.” Her voice was soft but sure. Rhaenyra moved toward her and pulled the microphone away from her.
“You will always be enough. You always were. And I’m sorry if I made you feel like you had to do this,” she whispered, trying to ignore how thousands of eyes were now on them. “We can go right now, play it off.”
Alicent reached out, shaking her head as she cupped Rhaenyra’s face in her palms, stroking her thumb along a soft cheek. “Can I kiss you?”
Rhaenyra leaned her face into Alicent’s palm. “I love you.”
They were the only two people in the world.
Sara looked down at the table, smile falling from her face, as another prospective customer walked away without buying anything. It was day two of her first time tabling at the convention and she had only sold about half of the stock that she had been hoping for.
She had known that, as a young queer artist who focused mostly on sapphic fandom art, there was a strong chance her work wouldn’t resonate with the majority of people here, but some part of her had hoped she would find her community here.
Her phone buzzed and she felt her stomach clench when she read the message.
Mum
You got this, darling! Dad and I are rooting for you!
“What do you think of this one, sweetheart?” A feminine, and almost familiar voice said. Sara lifted her head up to find another customer had wandered up to her table. They were cosplaying as the Mandalorian, complete with shiny armor and helmet over their head. An adorable child was strapped to their chest, a little green hat tucked over their dark curls. The baby cooed and the woman nodded as if she understood his indecipherable noises.
“You’re right, I don’t think she’s cool enough to hang up in your room.” She put down the print she had been holding, and Sara saw that it was one of Rhaenyra Targaryen as Visenya, brandishing a bloody sword atop her dragon.
Sara opened her mouth to protest, but her lack of sales stayed her tongue. By now the woman had picked up another work of hers, her absolute favorite drawing she had ever done. It was of a woman that Sara truly believed had changed her life.
Sara had been fourteen the first time she had seen Alicent Hightower in The Seven. While all her friends were fawning over their first boyfriends, she was struggling with the realization that her sexuality was not so cut and dry.
Although The Seven had barely had explicit queer representation, Sara had found an online community that she belonged in and discovered herself along the way. And when Alicent had come out as a lesbian when Sara was just turning 16, everything clicked into place.
“Now this is a masterpiece. Isn’t she lovely?” The cosplayer was holding the art before the baby who was reaching out toward it with clenching fists and babbling happily.
“Rhaenyra Targaryen!” Sara definitely recognized that voice. The crowd parted and Alicent Hightower herself was marching towards them, exasperation clear on her face. She was flanked by two large men who were ably keeping the shocked crowd at bay. When she reached them, she reached a hand up and swiftly tugged the helmet off the other woman’s head. An elaborate series of platinum blonde curls spilled out of it.
“Oh! Hi, my love.” Rhaenyra had a shit eating grin on her face.
“Don’t ‘my love’ me. You knew we were already running late before you pulled these shenanigans. The interviewers have been waiting for an hour.” Alicent leaned in to tickle along the baby’s sides. “Hello, Jacaerys. Have you been having fun with Muña?”
“Tyland can wait a little longer. I’d like to introduce you to an old friend of mine. Alicent, this is Sara. Sara, this is my wife, Alicent.” The shit eating grin on her face grew as she saw Sara’s face became as pale as snow.
Alicent smacked Rhaenyra’s arm. “Look what you’ve done to the poor girl. Hi, it’s great to meet you. I’m Alicent.”
“Yeah,” Sara wheezed. “You sure are. I’m Sara, Sara Stark.”
“Take a look at this, babe.” Rhaenyra handed the print of her over, winking at Sara as her wife gasped.
“Gods, this is beautiful.” Her hand was over her mouth.
“Thank you,” Sara stuttered. “I can’t even begin to explain what you mean to me. My work- it’s just… just how I see you.” She felt a blush spread from her cheeks down her chest.
Alicent’s face softened, a look on her face that Sara would never forget.
“Okay, relax, that’s my girl that you're sweet talking.” Rhaenyra pressed a smacking kiss to the apple of Alicent’s cheek.
“You imbecile.” Alicent smacked at Rhaenyra’s shoulder again. Then she reached across the table and clasped Sara’s hand softly in her own. “Thank you for your kindness.”
One of the men standing at their backs stepped forward. “Mrs. Targaryen, Mr. Lannister would like to remind you again that the reporters have been waiting for over an hour already.”
“Right,” Alicent said, squeezing Sara’s hand and smiling at her. “I hope it’s not presumptuous to ask, but shall we take a photo?”
Presumptuous? I am in love with you, she thought. “Yes,” she said, instead. She blacked out the moment she felt Alicent Hightower’s hand on her back, and when the bodyguard handed her phone back over to her, she was relieved to see that the manic feeling hadn’t shown on her face.
Alicent walked back around the table, unclipping their baby from Rhaenyra’s chest. He squealed happily, twisting his chubby fists into auburn locks as she nuzzled his cheek. She smiled at Sara over his head. “It was lovely meeting you, Sara.”
Sara noticed suddenly that Rhaenyra had taken a few of the prints off the table and was tucking them into the bag that hung at her side.
“Harry will pay you what they’re worth,” she said, gesturing to the impatient man who stood at her side. She winked. “See ya next year.”
She looped her arm around her wife’s waist and they disappeared into the crowd. Sara was left stunned as the guard handed her a small stack of bills before following them. She looked down and nearly choked when she realized Rhaenyra had paid 500 dragons for a handful of her works.
She pulled her phone out and sent the photo to her brother. The reply was instantaneous.
Cregan
NO FUCKING WAY SARA SHE LOOKS SO FUCKING HOT
Sara
she smelled so good im dead
Sara soon found herself distracted by a small group of shoppers who had wandered up after the commotion caused by Rhaenyra and Alicent. Most of them were just interested in seeing what the two had been so interested in, but she happily ended up making a number of sales before finally getting a break to check her phone, which had been buzzing incessantly for a few minutes.
Cregan
SARA CHECK INSTAGRAM
Sara tapped on the app, opening the notifications tab and saw that she suddenly had 10 new followers and that the number was ticking steadily up. She scrolled to the bottom and nearly dropped her phone.
@AlicentHightower has tagged you in their story.
She tapped on it with shaky fingers and it pulled open to show a photo of Alicent holding Sara’s drawing of her in front of her face. A caption was written at the bottom: So honored by this incredible work by @SaraStarkArt. Check her out at her table @KLComicCon
She ended up selling out all her stock by the end of the day. Sara Stark fucking loved Comic Con.