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Alicent adjusts her position in the chair and switches tabs out of her spreadsheet so that the video call with Gwayne is back into focus.

“You really think it’s ready?” she asks. “I feel like it's still too soon.”

Gwayne gives her a pointed look. “You didn’t just make me review seven hundred spreadsheet files for you not to run it this week. It’s good. It’s ready.”

Alicent drums her fingers on her desk. “It was only twenty spreadsheets.”

Gwayne chuckles. “Well, it felt like seven hundred.”

Alicent briefly peeks at the clock in the corner of the screen, and feels a pang of guilt. Gwayne is right, it was a lot to review. It wasn’t only the small campaign she wants to start this week, but also her plans for the future ones, and the overall rule modifications, and new economy rules. She’s kept him for hours now, and it’s nearly 10 p.m. She should let him sleep. He’s a sophomore in university, he has to have better things to do on a Tuesday night than video call his nerdy little sister and talk about Towers and Dragons for three hours.

“Sorry,” Alicent says, trying to keep her face from evidently falling. “You’re right. I – I’m sorry I kept you so long. I can finish reviewing on my own.”

Gwayne, as always, sees right through her. He taps his fingers against his webcam, making a loud thudding noise and causing his image to shake. “Hey,” he says. “It was a joke, tiny. I had fun hanging out with you today. Don’t go all self-hate on me, please. The mini-campaign is just as good as I can help you make it. I’ve never homebrewed something like this, so you will just have to try it out, Ali.”

Alicent glances at the print-outs she prepared for the players, neatly stacked on her table. “I don’t know. I feel like maybe the economy could be tweaked a little more. It still feels unrealistic.”

“Alicent,” Gwayne interrupts. “You’ve tweaked it plenty. You gotta try it out. Your party will like it, I promise you. It will be fun, even if it isn’t perfect.”

Alicent sighs. As much as he knows her — only their mom knew her better — Gwayne has never quite gotten this. Even if it is pointless, even if it's impossible, Alicent can’t stop wanting for it to be perfect. Can’t shake the feeling that somebody else could make it perfect.

“You’re right,” she replies, even though she doesn’t believe it.

Gwayne huffs, rolling his eyes, but he’s smiling. “I am always right.”

There’s a long moment of silence after that, and Gwayne's expression sobers. Alicent knows exactly what he will say before he even opens his mouth, and nearly clicks the “end call” button.

“Have you thought some more about talking with dad?” Gwayne asks.

Alicent fights off a groan. Gwayne has been asking about this nearly every single time they talk. She knows he means well, and he’s never tried to pressure her into talking to their dad beyond asking, but it’s still kind of exhausting.

Alicent wanted to talk to their dad when Gwayne was in town last, after Rhaenyra’s game, but it all still felt so sudden, so fragile. She wanted to wait until she was sure there was something to tell, until she was sure she and Rhaenyra were actually something worth outing herself over.

Gwayne good-naturedly called it chickening out. Alicent thinks it was just pragmatic.

So she waited. She waited and waited and before she knew it she was here: having dated Rhaenyra for two months and with everything still going well. Surprisingly, Rhaenyra and her just work . Dating Rhaenyra is fun, it’s easy, and it’s serious, too. They hang out almost everyday. They make out, but they also talk for hours. Rhaenyra rants about her favorite soccer teams, about her dad and his insistence she gets an MBA to work at his company, about missing her mom, about wishing she had the sibling her parents tried so hard for. Alicent tells her everything about all her Towers and Dragons campaigns, and the games she plays online and the books she’s reading, about wishing Gwayne wasn’t so far away, and about sometimes feeling like talking to her dad is like talking to somebody from a different planet that will never understand what she’s actually saying, no matter how much he understands the individual words coming out of her mouth. About how much she wishes her mom was still here too.

And Rhaenyra makes her laugh. She makes Alicent laugh and smile more than anybody ever has, and Alicent makes her laugh, too, and when Rhaenyra kisses her, Alicent feels as if her feet might actually just stop touching the ground.

It’s everything Alicent thought she would want before she came out to her dad. She thought it would make her feel brave, to know it was for something that was real. Instead, it’s just scary. It just feels ten times as fragile. Things are good. Things are great . What if she talks to her dad and it ruins everything?

“No,” Alicent finally replies. “Not yet. I just – I don’t know, Gwayne. Things are really good right now. What if – I just don’t want to mess it all up.”

Gwayne gives her a sad look, but knows better than to press. “Ok,” he replies. “I can be there. You know that, right? I’m a few two hours away. I’ll hop on a bus and be there if you need me.”

Alicent knows. She knows he would walk right out of a class and jump on a bus if she asked. It makes her chest blossom with warm affection for her big brother.

It doesn’t make the idea of talking to her dad any easier, though.

*

When Alicent comes down from her room to get ready for school the next morning, her dad is already up, sipping his morning coffee at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper on his tablet, extending his arms as far as he can and with a font size Alicent is sure has gotten bigger in the last couple months. He really should wear his glasses.

Her dad looks up from his newspaper as she walks by him to get her overnight oats from the fridge.

“Good morning, Alicent,” he says. “Would you like a ride to school? I have a meeting with a client downtown, I can drop you off this morning.”

Alicent shakes her head. “Thanks, dad,” she says, “but, uhm, Rhaenyra is coming to pick me up.” As she has done nearly every morning for the last two months. It’s almost hard to believe her father hasn’t noticed, but then again he never has noticed much of anything that wasn’t a missing chore, or Alicent getting an A instead of an A+ in her report card.

Her father purses his lips at the mention of Rhaenyra’s name. “You used to complain about how disruptive she was, always arriving late to your shared classes,” he says. “She’s not making you late for school, is she?”

Only when we get carried away making out in her car.

“No,” Alicent replies, “She’s been better about that. She’s always here early.”

“Good,” he says. “That’s – I am glad.” He clears his throat, with that funny look on his face he gets whenever he’s trying to talk to her about something that isn’t grades, chores, or the career in law he has already planned out for her down to her retirement.

“You still haven't brought her over for dinner,” he says. “You seem to spend most of your time with her these days. I would like to meet her.”

Alicent had sort of hoped that if she ignored it long enough, her father would kind of forget about his offer to have Rhaenyra over for dinner. “Right,” she replies. “I will do that. Soon.”

Her father nods. “This Friday,” he says, matter-of-factly, obviously not bothering to ask Alicent whether it works for her. “I will be home early. We can make that casserole dish your mother used to make.”

Alicent bites the inside of her cheek. She knows better than to try and argue with her dad when he makes up his mind, and Rhaenyra will be here any minute. “Sure. Friday. I will let her know.”

*

Despite Alicent’s best efforts to put on a bright smile, Rhaenyra knits her brows and tilts her head at her as soon as Alicent plops into the passenger seat after giving her a quick peck.

“Are you ok, baby?” Rhaenyra asks.

It’s sort of silly, but Alicent can’t help the butterflies that flutter in her stomach at the pet name, which Rhaenyra has only just recently begun using.

“Yeah, I am ok,” she replies, giving Rhaenyra a smile. A genuine one, this time. “It’s my dad. He wants to have you over for dinner.”

Rhaenyra raises her eyebrows. “Oh, you talked to him?”

Alicent scrunches up her nose. What is up with everybody being on her case about talking to her dad these days? “No,” she replies. “He just wants to meet you because, apparently, I spend all my time with you.”

Rhaenyra grins. “Well, don’t worry, baby. I am extremely charming. Parents love me. I promise you he will like me.”

Alicent smiles back, but Rhaenyra’s confidence and charm do little to reassure her. The problem isn’t her dad liking Rhaenyra as Alicent’s friend . The problem is that when Alicent is around Rhaenyra, the fact that Alicent is in love with her can probably be seen from outer space.

The only person who hasn’t noticed yet is probably Rhaenyra herself.

Alicent sighs. “Ok. This Friday then. I’ll text you the details and please be on time.”

Rhaenyra gives her a sideways glance as she merges into the road. “You just watch,” she says. “I’m going to be perfectly on time and be perfectly polite and I’m going to charm the socks off your dad. He’s going to want you to date me.”

Alicent chuckles. Faced with Rhaenyra's bright smile, her dimples, with her confidence and with butterflies fluttering in her tummy, Alicent can almost believe that it’s true. That Rhaenyra will charm her dad, and it all will go well, and things will continue to be as great as they are.

Almost.

“Keep your eyes on the road, charmer,” Alicent says. “I don’t want to be late again.”

*

Rhaenyra checks the time on her phone as they cross the threshold into school. She raises her eyebrows at Alicent and shows her the lock screen, a smug smile on her face. “Perfectly on time, three days in a row.”

Alicent rolls her eyes. “Babe, being on time for school for three whole days is really not as impressive as you think it is.”

Rhaenyra gives her a cheeky little shrug. “I know you are very proud of yourself for making me be early for school.”

Alicent is kind of proud of that, but she’s not gonna admit that. Instead, she gives Rhaenyra an innocent, doe-eyed look. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Rhaenyra tugs at their joined hands and chuckles. “Sure you don’t.”

Alicent kisses Rhaenyra’s cheek, laughing right back, and when she looks back at where they’re going, she is surprised to find Criston waiting for her at her locker.

“Hey, Ali,” he says. He nods to Rhaenyra, somewhat awkwardly. “Hi. Um, Rhaenyra.”

Rhaenyra leans against the locker to the left of Alicent’s and gives him a nod. “Hey, big C.”

Alicent looks at Criston expectantly, wondering what is up. He hasn’t really waited for her by her locker in forever, not since she and Rhaenyra started driving to school together. In fact, Alicent has barely even talked to him for weeks. She kind of never hears from him outside of the Towers and Dragons sessions anymore. Alicent has been trying not to feel too hurt about it. She is busy with Rhaenyra, and he has his own stuff going on, but still. She and Criston might not have been best friends forever or anything, but they were friends before they started playing Towers and Dragons. They were friends way before Rhaenyra even showed up at school, or at least Alicent thought they were. Maybe they weren’t that close, but she’s known Criston since they were twelve.

“Hey, Criston,” Alicent says. “What’s up?”

Criston glances at Rhaenyra, and then looks back at Alicent, scratching the back of his head. “Uh, nothing,” he replies. “I, uh, just thought we could walk to class together, or whatever. Like we used to.”

Alicent grabs her books from her locker. “Ok. Sure.” She turns her attention to Rhaenyra, handing her the books. “Are you sure you got time today to walk me? You’re going to be late.”

Rhaenyra grabs the books from Alicent’s hands and shrugs, smiling. “If I wasn’t late to Marlow’s class she’d probably think I was replaced by a child of the forest, or something. I got time.”

Alicent shakes her head at Rhaenyra, and then turns back around to find Criston looking at her with a disappointed expression on his face.

“Oh,” Alicent says. “Sorry. Did you mean–?”

Criston doesn’t let her finish. “You know what? I’m so dumb,” he says, his cheeks flushed. “I just remembered I need to grab something from my locker, too. I’ll see you at lunch, or the session today or – yeah. I’ll see you.”

He’s gone before Alicent can even process his words.

Rhaenyra knits her brow as she watches Criston go. “What’s up with Chris?”

“Criston,” Alicent gently corrects, grabbing Rhaenyra’s hand. “And I don't know. He’s been sort of weird for a while. Come on, I don’t want to be late.”

*

Alicent double checks her numbers on the last equation, frowning. Everything seems to be right, but the answer being 7/89 is so ugly it makes her want to be wrong.

She narrows her eyes at her own work, but nope. Everything is correct.

She turns the page to work on the next calculus problem and shifts her body when the glare of the sun hitting the glossy textbook makes it hard to make out the numbers. Alicent sighs. She’s gotten relatively used to doing a bit of homework while sitting in the bleachers as she waits for Rhaenyra to finish practice, and the warmth of the sun is nice of her skin, but who decided textbooks needed to be so shiny?

She forces herself to go back to her homework for a few minutes, until the sound of laughter makes her look up again, this time towards the soccer field. There she spots Rhaenyra, surrounded by a tight circle of her teammates, performing some sort of soccer drill. It seems to consist of the other players around her passing the ball, and Rhaenyra is trying to stop it, while her teammates heckle her. It looks like absolute, abject torture to Alicent, and it gives her PTSD from middle school gym, but Rhaenyra seems completely unperturbed. She is actually laughing right along with them, heckling back and joking and, weirdly, almost looking as if she enjoys it.

Alicent shakes her head, an amused smile on her face. Even nearly three months into dating Rhaenyra, there’s still things about her that seem completely alien to Alicent. Enjoying this absolute monstrosity of a drill is definitely going on that list.

She only manages to review one more problem before she is distracted again, this time by somebody sitting next to her.

She looks up to see Laena smiling at her.

“Hey, Ali,” she says, giving Alicent a bright smile. “Waiting for Nyra?”

Alicent nods. “Practice is dragging on forever today.”

Laena huffs. “I know ,” she says. “Laenor insists I wait for him like the big baby he is, but with the semis for the nationals coming, Westerling is just making these practices longer and longer.”

Alicent chuckles. Contrary to what Alicent expected, Laena has welcomed her into Rhaenyra’s circle of friends with open arms, and Alicent finds that she actually really likes her. They haven’t hung out one on one much, and Alicent is still a teensy bit jealous when Rhaenyra and her interact, but that’s not exactly Laena’s fault. She’s been nothing but kind, and with Criston sort of ignoring her, it feels nice to think Laena and her might become actual friends.

“Are you guys coming to Jason’s party on Friday?” Laena asks.

Alicent shakes her head. “I don’t think so,” she says. “Rhaenyra is coming over for dinner, and I doubt my dad would let me go to a party that starts at eleven.”

Laena raises her eyebrows, smile widening. “Oh, dinner with the parents?”

Alicent resists the urge to groan. “Parent,” she clarifies. “And yeah.”

Laena must notice her lack of enthusiasm, because she doesn’t press. Instead, she nods towards the field. “Oh, good,” she says. “They’re finally done.”

*

Rhaenyra gives Alicent a bright smile as she walks up to the place where Alicent sits in the bleachers. “Hey, baby. Thank you for waiting for me.”

Alicent shrugs, showing Rhaenyra her completed math homework and pretending she didn’t just sit here in the uncomfortable bleachers for an hour and a half just so she could see Rhaenyra some more. “I had things to do.”

Rhaenyra hums in agreement, stretching her neck to peer at the notebook. “Is that the math homework I haven’t done?”

Alicent pulls the notebook back against her chest, narrowing her eyes at Rhaenyra. “Yes. And no , you’re not copying it.”

Rhaenyra groans. “Ugh, really?” she says, her voice nearly a whine. “Is that not, like, a girlfriend privilege?”

Alicent raises her eyebrows. “A girlfriend privilege?”

Rhaenyra sits down next to her on the bleachers, close enough their hips are touching. She bumps her shoulder against Alicent. “Yeah,” she says. “Girlfriend privileges. It’s a thing.”

Alicent tilts her head. “I think you already get plenty of girlfriend privileges, babe.”

Rhaenyra chuckles. “Oh yeah?” she asks, her right hand moving to rest on Alicents thigh, “Like what?”

Alicent sticks out her tongue at her, but when Rhaenyra leans in for a kiss, she wraps her arms around the other girl's neck and eagerly accepts, even with Rhaenyra still sweaty from practice.

By the time they break for air, Alicent feels about as flushed as Rhaenyra looks. Alicent smiles against Rhaenyra’s mouth. “Like that,” she says.

Rhaenyra pulls back and blinks, a dazed, happy expression on her face that makes Alicent feel giddy with pride. She did that.

“Those are some solid privileges,” Rhaenyra agrees. She nods towards the parking lot. “Wanna hang for a bit? We can go to mine, if you wanna stay over for dinner?”

Alicent nods, grabbing her backpack from the place to her right and putting her notebook inside before Rhaenyra can try to peek at her answers. “Sounds good. My dad won’t be home today for dinner, so he won’t mind me being out.”

Rhaenyra raises her eyebrows. “House to yourself? Maybe we should go to yours.”

Alicent blushes. Rhaenyra’s meaning is not lost on her, and even though Rhaenyra hasn’t once said anything about it, Alicent is pretty sure the other girl would happily go much further than kissing and some over-the-bra second base action.

“Yours is fine,” Alicent replies. “As long as your dad doesn't mind.”

If Rhaenyra minds Alicent ignoring her comment, she doesn’t show it. She just stretches her arms over her head and stands up, extending her hand for Alicent. “Nah,” she says. “He loves having you over for dinner. He thinks you’re a good influence.”

Alicent smiles. Rhaenyra’s dad is kind of goofy, but he isn’t wrong. She is a good influence on Rhaenyra. She takes Rhaenyra’s hand, and hoists herself up. “You did make it to school on time three whole days in a row, babe.”

Rhaenyra grins. “See, I knew you were feeling mighty proud of yourself for that one.”

*

The next few days pass relatively quietly. Rhaenyra’s practices get even longer, so Alicent doesn’t really see much of her after school. They do text a lot, and facetime quietly once Alicent has gone to bed, and they still have their dinner plans at the end of the week, so it’s not too bad. Alicent spends her time fretting about said plans, endlessly revising her notes for the first run of her homebrew campaign on Thursday, and then fretting some more.

Uncharacteristically, by the time Thursday arrives, she actually feels pretty good about her material. It’s not perfect but Gwayne – and Rhaenyra, who by now has heard nearly as much as Gwayne about her homebrew campaign – are both right. She just needs to try it.

Alicent arrives at the library five minutes before the session is set to start, only to find Criston already sitting at their usual table, reading through something with a look of concentration so intense Alicent half expects smoke to come out of his ears like he’s in a cartoon.

Alicent walks up to the table, putting down her rather hefty pile of print-outs and props. “Hey, Criston.”

Criston looks up, and Alicent realizes he’s reading a print-out of the homebrewed rules she emailed them, which is odd. She always emails stuff like that ahead of time, but none of the boys ever glance at it before the session.

“Oh, hi, Ali,” he replies. “I was just trying to prep. The new rules are cool, I think.” He gives her a sheepish smile. “I’m not super sure I get them but they sound super smart.”

Alicent is about to say something in reply, when she hears Larys and Tyland entering the library.

“It is an original name,” Larys is saying. “That, I won’t try to deny.”

Tyland frowns. “Are you doing that thing you do, where you pretend to say something nice and in reality you’re being a dick?”

Larys mock gasps. “Me?” he says, then looks at Alicent. “Alicent, tell Tyland I am always very sincere in my opinion of him.”

Alicent shakes her head. “I can neither deny nor confirm that.”

Larys chuckles. “Smart.”

Tyland frowns. “You were insulting my character's name.”

Alicent sits down on the chair at the head of the table, and hides behind her Tower Master’s screen. This is probably going to be a disaster, but it’s too late to back out now. She lets the boys settle as she makes sure all her cheat sheets are visible, and that her laptop is plugged in and all the right spreadsheets are loaded up and ready to go.

Once everybody is sitting down, looking expectantly at her, she takes a deep breath, and begins.

“The scene begins with the three adventurers heading into town, chasing the rumors of something dark and powerful lurking in the dreaded Abyssal Crypt .”

*

Ser Criston the Kingmaker cautiously steps into the dungeon, his footsteps echoing ominously off the stone walls. The torches on the wall flicker sporadically, casting eerie shadows that dance across the rugged surfaces. The air is heavy with the scent of dampness and decay, and a sense of something that prickles at the warrior’s senses. Something that is wrong here.

As Ser Criston’s eyes adjust to the dim torchlight, he surveys the room, scanning for any signs of danger. The chamber stretches out before him, vast and cavernous. The torchlight casts distorted, elongated shadows that seem to shift, making him feel as if anything could be hiding in the darkness, moving concealed by the flickering shadows he can’t quite focus on.

The room's corners remain shrouded in deep shadows, concealing threats that lie in wait.

Ser Criston turns to his elven companion. “Ser Tyla-Ser Lannis–fuck. What’s your name again?”

*

Tyland rolls his eyes, lifting up his character sheet and pointing at the name printed there in big black letters. “It’s Lord T’lani’s the Clever,” he says. “I’ve told you a million times.”

Criston brow knits. “Fine, damn,” he says. “It’s not my fault I can’t remember. It’s a very original name after all.”

Larys snickers.

“Criston,” Alicent warns. “Let’s get back to the dungeon.”

Criston blushes. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “Right. Ok, so I turn to him, and I ask him to check the room with his elven eyes.”

Alicent shares a look with Tyland, who nods. “Sounds good,” she says. “Tyland, roll for perception please.”

*

“Lord T’lani’s,” Ser Criston says, “Do you see anything with your elven eyes?”

T’lani’s takes a step forward, examining the room carefully. “Allow me to assist you, mere mortal friend.”

As T’lani’s’ eyes adjust to the dim lighting, his acute elven senses are able to pick up details that escaped Ser Criston’s notice. There, in the corner furthest from where they stand, is a pattern of disturbed dust on the floor, revealing footprints and, most importantly, a floor tile that is slightly elevated. It’s barely anything, but T’lani’s knows it’s no simple coincidence.

“There,” he says, pointing at the tile. “There’s something strange.”

“Let me examine it,” Laryssa Nimblefoot says, cartwheeling her way to T’lani’s. “I can check if–”

*

Alicent blinks. “Wait – you cartwheel?” she asks. “He’s like five feet away.”

Larys nods, rolling a d20. “Oh, nice,” he says. “Seventeen. Laryssa does a cartwheel, ending it in a handstand.”

Alicent looks down at her map. He isn’t cartwheeling over any of her boobytraps, so she supposes she has no reason to disallow it, aside from how horribly dumb it is.

“Fine. Laryssa Nimblefoot…,” she sighs, “cartwheels to T’lani’s. What’s next?”

*

Laryssa Nimblefoot cartwheels her way to T’lani’s, finishing in a handstand. “I can examine that,” she announces, her sexy voice echoing in the cavern. She backflips perfectly, even though she’s wearing high heels, and walks towards the tile. She crunches next to it, and intently stares at it for a few moments. She tilts her head as she confirms it’s raised slightly, almost as if it was a button she was meant to push.

“We should push it,” Ser Criston says. “See what happens.”

T’lani’s makes his way to the group and glares at Ser Criston. “Or we could think before doing things, for once.”

Ser Criston rolls his eyes. “We’ve survived so far, haven’t we?” he says. “Last room wasn’t even that bad.”

T’lani’s gapes at Ser Criston and points towards the bloody gash in his tunic, where a Treant nearly sliced T’lani’s in half in the previous fight. The flesh underneath is now healed after their short rest, but–

*

“It’s not healed,” Alicent interrupts.

Tyland looks up. He frowns, looking down at his notes. “We took a short rest,” he says. “I have my HP back, don’t I?”

Alicent nods. “Yes, but–” She reaches over the board, to tap gently at the printout of the homebrew rules she prepared for the campaign. “The rules of healing are different, remember? You get your basic HP back, but you won’t completely heal from this kind of wound for a while, not until you get medical attention or a potion. You can keep playing through it, but your stats will drop the longer you remain untreated.”

Tyland grimaces. “Uh,” he says. He looks towards Larys. “Did we get any potions before we came in?”

Larys shakes his head. “We couldn’t afford them,” he says. “With the new money rules they were too expensive. We had to pay interest on the loan we took for the gear, and the inn cost a fortune, not to mention lodging and hay for the horses at the inn. We’re actually kind of broke.”

Tyland sighs. “Ok, uh, fine, whatever. I guess I’ll…be crippled, or something.”

*

T’lani’s points Ser Criston towards his bloodied tunic, where a Treant nearly sliced him in half in the previous fight. The flesh underneath is still mangled, painful, and bloodied. T’lani’s is actually feeling rather dizzy, and weak, and like he can’t think straight. He isn’t sure he could enter a fight in this state, let alone win one.

“Let’s think it through, Ser Criston,” he pleads. “We still need to find the other two keys to unlock the entrance to the secret trap door.”

Ser Criston shares a look with Laryssa. “Should we take a vote?”

T’lani’s throws his hands up in the air, scowling at Ser Criston. “I’m bleeding to death. ”

Laryssa Nimblefoot shrugs. “Sounds like a T’lani’s problem to me,” she says, and pushes the button.

The room shakes.

In front of them, the walls of the cavern suddenly shift, opening into an even bigger cavern, big enough to hold a dark, shimmering lake. In the lake, barely illuminated by the torchlight, no less recognizable for all that, lies the ancient horror known as the Aboleth , a creature of primordial power and malevolence.

Its serpentine body writhes with a slimy, mucus-coated texture, shimmering in the eerie glow of its own bioluminescence. The creature's elongated form seems to stretch on forever, as if it were a monstrous serpent interwoven with the dark essence of the abyss itself.

But it is the creature's face that chills the party to their very core. The Aboleth possesses a hideous visage, a grotesque fusion of fish and amphibian features. Slime-drenched tentacles, lined with suckers, dangle from the creature's chin, writhing and twitching with an unsettling rhythm.

*

Criston whistles. “Holy fuck.”

Tyland groans. “We’re dead.”

Larys grins. “Oh, we are so dead.”

*

Ser Criston's heart pounds in his chest as he stares at the Aboleth. He looks over at his party, and shifts into a defensive stance. Beside him, T’lani’s is already making arcane, intricate gestures, frantically preparing his spells for the impending battle. Laryssa, agile as ever, is already poised for a strike.

“Laryssa,” Ser Criston says, “Do you think you can sneak up on it?”

Laryssa nods. Ser Criston swallows thickly, raises his sword, but before he can attack, the Aboleth does something Ser Criston cannot name, and shockwaves of pain and disorientation ripple through his consciousness. It feels as though a thousand icy needles are piercing through his thoughts, the world around him warping and distorting, as if reality itself is crumbling under the weight of the Aboleth’s influence.

Ser Criston groans. “It’s doing something to me,” he forces out. “Fuck, T’lani’s, Laryssa, attack it!”

Ser Criston sees T’lani’s’ mouth moving, but can’t make sense of what he replies. His thoughts are tangled, twisted, and distorted.

Ser Criston shakes his head, trying to focus on the battle. He watches as Laryssa approaches the Aboleth, trying to deliver a sneak attack, only to be easily discovered. The beast’s slimy tentacles thrash through the air. It strikes Laryssa, sending her hurtling against a wall as if she weighed nothing. Ser Criston tries to move, to do something , but his physical body cannot seem to respond to his commands. His head is throbbing, as if his skull is being squeezed in a vice-like grip.

Through gritted teeth, Ser Criston fights against the intrusion, desperately attempting to resist Aboleth's psychic grip.

*

“Roll a wisdom save for me please, Criston,” Alicent says.

Criston grabs his d20 die, sharing a look with Larys, and then Tyland. “If I fail this, we’re doubly fucked.”

Tyland stares at Criston’s hand. “Just fucking roll it.”

Crison closes his eyes tightly, shakes the die in between his hands a few times, and rolls it on the table.

Alicent watches it roll, and roll, and stop. Right on a natural one.

Larys hoots . “Holy shit, we’re toast.”

*

Ser Criston tries and tries, as hard as he can, but he can’t resist the Aboleth. He’s too weakened from his previous fight, too tired and weary. With icy dread making its way through his veins, he realizes that his thoughts, his very essence, are now in the clutches of the Aboleth's control.

T’lani’s grits his teeth. Now it was only him, and Laryssa, against the Aboleth and Ser Criston. He shares a quick look with Laryssa, still prone on the floor but alive, and attempts to conjure his fireball. But with his wounds still weakening him, and his concentration waning, as soon as the incantation leaves his lips, he knows it is no good. The spell falters, and the fireball explodes in feeble, ineffectual flames that barely seem to touch the Aboleth at all.

*

The fight does not improve, at all, after that. Another three rounds in, and Criston has failed every wisdom save to get out of the monster’s mind control, Tyland and Larys have barely dealt any damage, but have taken plenty. The party is very close to being completely annihilated.

“Fuck,” Tyland curses, throwing his dice on the table dejectedly. “Ugh, my fucking stats are garbage with the new healing system.”

Criston groans. “I know. Mine too, and we barely have any gear, cause we’re broke.”

Alicent bites the inside of her cheek, trying to hide her face behind her Tower Master’s screen. This is a disaster. She thought making healing more realistic would be fun, but it’s made them all weakened, and none of the boys can properly keep track of the stats modifiers based on the type of injury. With the adjustment of the economy, and the prices for gear, they’re also wholly unprepared to face this monster. She’d hoped they wouldn’t make it to the Aboleth until they’d paid off their loan by encountering the side quest in the tavern, but she forgot how absolutely terrible at following clues these three are. This fight was supposed to be the end of the short campaign, a cool boss fight to end it all off, instead they’re getting curb stomped.

This is going to be a total party kill, and it’s all her fault. Her homebrew rules and campaign design absolutely, totally suck. She should’ve stuck to premade campaigns. She actually feels as if she might cry. She put so much effort into it. She poured so much time into it and so many rounds of review. She tried so hard, and it’s still just garbage.

“Wait,” Larys says. He looks up at Alicent. “The new rules go both ways right?”

Alicent tries to keep her face impassive. She nods. “Yes.”

Larys grabs one of the print-outs from the table. “He’s murdering us with his psych ability right?” He points at the section of the rules explaining how stats decrease when injured. “We don’t need to beat the thing. We need to get one good blow in, enough that the wisdom save for Criston to break free drops, and then we scurry like rats as fast as we can.”

Criston looks hopefully at Alicent. “Would that work?”

Fuck it, it just might. “What do you have in mind, Larys?”

*

T’lani’s readies his most powerful spell. With how weakened he is, he will only get to use it once before he passes out from exhaustion, but it will be well worth it. Closing his eyes, he focuses all his energy, and utters his incantation, summoning the power of the storm. With a sweeping gesture, he unleashes his lightning bolt, crackling with electricity, aiming to strike the Aboleth.

At the same time, Laryssa darts through the shadows, maneuvering into a flanking position behind the Aboleth.

“Die, you ugly fucking fish,” Laryssa shouts and, with a grin, plunges her poisoned dagger into the Aboleth. Distracted by T’lani’s’ assault, the Aboleth doesn’t react in time, and Laryssa’s dagger cuts deep into its flesh. The lightning bolt surges forward, coursing through the air and it strikes true, electrifying the Aboleth's body and, most importantly, momentarily weakening its defenses.

In this fleeting moment of vulnerability, Ser Criston is finally able to break from the Aboleth's mind control.

He blinks, shakes his head, feeling the fog of the Aboleth’s psychic power leave his mind, and lifts his greatsword. “T’lani’s, Laryssa, get behind me,” he says. “Start running, and don’t look back.”

*

Alicent resists the urge to groan. That wasn’t a total party kill, but it was still a complete disaster. They barely managed to survive, didn’t get to find any of the treasure that would advance the plot or help with their stats and, for once, it’s all Alicent’s fault.

Alicent sighs. “I’m sorry, guys. That was–,”

“So fucking cool,” Tyland interrupts. He looks up from the figurines, grinning. “Bro, I fried that fish.”

Criston makes a sizzling noise, wiggling his fingers. “You really did, Ty.”

Larys grins. “The new rules are crazy,” he says. “Think of how we could leverage this if we’re good at stocking up on potions, but the enemies aren’t. We could completely break this game.”

Alicent blinks. “You…liked it?”

Three pairs of eyes turn to look at her at once.

“Yeah, of course,” Criston says. “That was crazy . I can’t wait for the next session.”

Larys nods, looking up eagerly at Alicent. “Next week?”

Alicent somehow manages a smile. “Next week.”

*

“Need some help with the clean up?”

Alicent looks up from the table to find Criston looking expectantly at her. “Uh, sure.”

Criston nods, and Alicent goes back to putting everything away. Making sure every figurine and set of die is in the appropriate sealed plastic bag, so nothing gets scratched or misplaced.

They work in silence for a few minutes but it’s a bit stilted, a bit awkward. Criston rarely stayed behind to help even before Rhaenyra and Alicent started dating, when he and Alicent were still hanging out outside of the sessions, so Alicent is sure he has something he wants to say.

Sure enough, a few more minutes into tidying up, Criston clears his throat. “I thought maybe we could, like, talk. For a minute.”

Alicent puts her laptop in its sleeve, and looks expectantly at him while she rolls its charging cord. She really hopes Criston is not going to stop coming to the sessions, too. If he’s dropping out of the campaign, it’s going to be a huge pain in the ass. It’s already hard enough to run with three players, so she might just have to stoop to ask Rhaenyra to play again.

“I, um,” Criston begins, and frowns, running a hand through his hair. “I guess I wanted to apologize. I was, um, kind of a dick after you and Rhaenyra started dating.”

Alicent nods, feeling no need to placate him. He really was. Has been. He first refused to believe it, and then as soon as she and Rhaenyra were public knowledge, he basically stopped talking to Alicent all together outside of the Towers and Dragons sessions.

“I guess I was …I don’t know.” Criston looks at the table again, fiddling with the sole figurine remaining. Ser Criston the Kingmaker. “I guess I was…jealous.”

Alicent holds the laptop close to her chest. This isn’t a surprise, but it still sort of stings. It was obvious that Criston was jealous. His crush on Rhaenyra had been evident, even to Alicent, but still. Criston and Alicent might not have been “best friends forever” close, but Alicent was his friend long before Rhaenyra ever showed up at their school. They’ve known each other for years. He hadn’t even spoken more than ten words to Rhaenyra when Alicent started dating her.

“Right,” Alicent says, a little sharper than she intended. “I’m sorry I got in between you and Rhaenyra, Criston. I’m sure you two had something really special going on.”

Criston frowns. “What?” he says. “No. Rhaenyra is hot and all but – I was jealous because you started spending all your time with her. Walking to class with her and stuff. You started showing up late to sessions sometimes. You were my friend first.”

Alicent blinks. “You basically stopped talking to me, Criston,” she says. “You could’ve said something.”

Criston grimaces, then nods. “Yeah,” he says. He gives Alicent a sideways glance, and blushes profusely. “I guess I had this stupid idea you would like – I don’t know. That if I didn’t talk to you for a while you would miss me. Or something dumb like that.”

Suddenly, Alicent feels rather bad that she never tried to reach out at all. He was totally a dick, but still. She did let Rhaenyra completely monopolize her attention for a while there.

“I did miss you, you dumbass,” Alicent says. “You’re my friend.”

Criston gives her a lopsided smile, then sniffles. He clears his throat. “So, uh. How's it going? You and Rhaenyra?”

Alicent gives Criston a tentative smile. “It’s going good.” she says. “Great, actually.”

Criston nods, finally handing Ser Criston’s figurine to Alicent. “She’s like…” he gestures vaguely with his hand. “Good to you and stuff, right?”

Alicent holds the figurine tightly in her hand. “Yeah,” she says. “She’s good. She’s sweet. She’s really goofy, actually. She makes me feel safe.”

Criston nods. “Good,” he says. “You – Good. You deserve that.”

Alicent puts the figurine in its plastic bag. “Walk together to the bus?”

Judging by Criston’s answering smile, you’d think Alicent just offered him a thousand dollars.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’d like that.”

*

Alicent hardly sees Rhaenyra until it’s time for the dinner. They don’t share any classes together on Fridays, and for the first time in weeks, Alicent actually sits with Criston and Tyland for lunch. It’s nice to catch up, and they were both still excitedly talking about the session, but it means that aside from their ride to school, Alicent has very little opportunity to prepare Rhaenyra for dinner, aside from texting back and forth all day. She wasn’t even able to make sure Rhaenyra has appropriate answers to all the questions her dad is sure to ask her.

Before Alicent knows it, it's nearly time for Rhaenyra to show up.

Are you on your way? Please make sure to be here on time.

i know baby - i’m almost there. i promise i’ll b there at 550.

Are you wearing something nice?

i bought a shirt. it has buttons and everything.

Ok. See you soon.

If my dad asks what you’re planning to go to uni for please don’t say soccer.

“Alicent,” her father says pointedly, interrupting her texting. “Can you put down that phone for a minute, and check on the casserole?”

Alicent puts her phone into her back pocket. “Sorry.”

Alicent mentally kicks herself. She shouldn’t have been texting with Rhaenyra while they cooked. Not when she knows very well her dad hates when she ‘has her face glued to that phone of hers’. She shakes her head and bends down to look at the dish. It looks perfect.

The casserole is a simple recipe, nothing fancy at all, and certainly not the kind of thing she imagined her dad would suggest when having somebody over. It’s just something Alicent’s mom used to make, and one of Alicent’s favorites. It’s the sort of warm, cozy meal she’d always ask for when she was sad, or sick, or when her favorite teddy bear had gone through a washer cycle and just didn’t feel the same anymore. She has no idea what made her dad decide on it, but she’s grateful. It’s maybe foolish, but it almost makes her feel like her mom is here, a little bit.

“It looks great,” she says. “Should be ready in thirty minutes or maybe less.”

Her father nods, and sets to make a side salad. Alicent glances at the clock. Ten minutes to six. Rhaenyra should be here any minute.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Alicent’s phone buzzes with a message from Rhaenyra. She grabs her phone from her back pocket and takes a glimpse at the message. “Rhaenyra is here.”

Her dad looks up from chopping iceberg lettuce, and glances briefly at the clock. His face betrays little, but Alicent has to fight a smile. She knows being ten minutes early is a point in Rhaenyra’s favor. “I’ll go get it.”

*

Alicent opens the door to find Rhaenyra standing perfectly straight as if awaiting military inspection, and holding a bottle of wine in her hand.

The set of Rhaenyra’s shoulders relaxes as soon as she sees Alicent. “Oh. Hi, baby,” she says. “I thought your dad was gonna open the door.”

It should be the opposite, but absurdly, seeing Rhaenyra a bit flustered makes Alicent feel better. It’s nice to know she’s not the only one who is completely freaking out about this.

“Hi,” she replies. She quickly glances backwards, and once she’s sure her dad isn’t watching, gives Rhaenyra a quick peck on the lips. “You look really nice.”

Rhaenyra grins, running a hand over her short-sleeve button-up, as if smoothing out none-existent creases. “Thank you,” she says, and then gives Alicent a very blatant, lingering look from head to toe. “You look better than nice. You look hot .”

Alicent blushes and pushes the other girl’s shoulder gently. “ Rhaenyra. None of that in front of my dad.”

Rhaenyra pretends to zip up her own lips. “On my honor.”

Alicent takes a deep breath. “Ok, let’s do this.”

*

“Thank you for the wine, Rhaenyra,” Alicent's dad says as he pours himself a cup. “Is it a particular favorite of yours?”

Alicent tightens her hold on her fork. Rhaenyra is not actually much of a drinker. Alicent has hardly even seen her drink more than a sip of beer, but even that would be wholly unacceptable for her dad.

Rhaenyra shakes her head. “Sorry, sir,” she replies. “I don’t drink, so I wouldn’t really know. It was my dad’s suggestion.”

Alicent’s dad nods. “I see,” he replies. “Well, send him my thanks. It so happens that it is actually a favorite of mine.”

Rhaenyra smiles brightly. “I will,” she says. “My dad sends his regards, by the way. He said you guys used to work together?”

If it wasn’t impossible, Alicent would worry she might just break the stainless steel fork in two. She should’ve told Rhaenyra not to mention her dad.

Her dad purses his lips. “I see. Well. Send him my regards as well.” He puts the wine down, and waits until Rhaenyra is done with her current bite of food. “So, Rhaenyra. I have heard surprisingly little about you.”

Rhaenyra's eyes flash towards Alicent. “I guess no news is good news, sir?”

“You play soccer, correct?” Her dad asks, completely ignoring Rhaenyra’s attempt at humor. “Is that something serious for you?”

Alicent tries to shake her head as subtly as she can, while also making it violently clear that ‘yes’ is the wrong answer.

“Uh,” Rhaenyra says, her eyes darting between Otto and Alicent. “Um – no, sir. I have plans to get an MBA. Work at my dad’s company.”

Alicent’s dad nods, clearly pleased. “An MBA is a solid career choice. Alicent is planning to study law.”

Alicent isn’t, actually, but this is not the time to bring up that conversation. “Rhaenyra is pretty good with numbers.”

Rhaenyra nods, her face completely serious, as if she hadn't tried to get Alicent to let her copy her math homework just two days ago. “Those numbers. Just can’t get enough of them, sir.”

Alicent bites the inside of her cheek to keep herself from laughing out loud.

Alicent’s dad nods. “Well,” he says. “Let’s eat. I will hear about the schools you’re considering later.”

*

The interrogation continues much the same after they finish eating. Alicent’s dad asks question after question for nearly forty-five minutes. Alicent barely gets a word in edgewise. He asks Rhaenyra about schools she’s thinking about attending, about what she likes to do in her free time, about whether she also enjoys ‘make believe games’ or if she has ‘more worthy hobbies’.

All in all, it’s about as awkward and terrible as Alicent expected, but it's also somehow not even all that bad.

Rhaenyra is adorably nervous, but she’s still Rhaenyra, even under interrogation. She cracks goofy little jokes that more often than not go over Otto’s head, she carries the conversation and winks and grins at Alicent when Alicent’s dad isn’t looking. All in all, she wholly earns her moniker of “the school's delight” and makes Alicent feel so in love she’s afraid she might actually say “I love you” for the first time by blurting it out during dinner.

Alicent’s dad might still hate Rhaenyra, once he finds out the truth, but at least for that night, he seems to like her. By the time Rhaenyra leaves, Alicent could swear she almost sees him smiling at one of her jokes.

*

Alicent focuses as hard as she can on washing the dishes once Rhaenyra leaves, but it is hard. She knows a talk is coming. She knows it by her dad’s awkward glances, by the way he’s taking a century in putting away each plate, trying not to be done too soon, she knows by the heavy, tense feeling in the room.

Alicent bites the inside of her cheek, scrubbing the pyrex dish as hard as she can. Maybe, if she’s fast enough, her dad will not actually say anything. Maybe she can duck out, go to sleep, and tomorrow they can be awkward about it and pretend this tense moment didn’t exist at all. Maybe–

“She seems…nice,” her father says, “Rhaenyra.”

Maybe not.

Alicent closes her eyes so tightly she nearly sees spots, takes a deep breath, and turns around to face her dad, trying as hard as she can to keep her face from showing how she truly feels.

“Yeah,” she replies. “She’s nice. She’s – I like her.”

Her father looks at her for a long, awkward moment. She nearly turns around to begin washing dishes again when he continues, “Alicent,” he begins, then exhales. “I am sorry, I am no good at this sort of thing.”

Alicent can feel her heart throbbing in her ears. She can feel the hot, tight anxiety constricting her chest more and more with every passing moment. Please, she wants to say. Please, just let things be as they are . Her dad can just keep pretending he doesn’t notice, and she can just keep pretending she doesn’t notice him noticing, and nothing needs to change at all. He doesn’t need to be disappointed, or worse.

“It’s ok, Dad,” she says. “We don’t – I know it’s not what you would want. We don’t have to talk about it.”

Her father gives her an odd look at that. Alicent can’t quite put her finger on it. It’s surprise, but something else as well. Sadness, maybe.

Her dad purses his lips, and gestures towards the living room. “Please, sit with me.”

Alicent wants nothing more than to run away to her room and call Gwayne to come rescue her, but she doesn’t. She swallows around the lump in her throat, and follows her dad to the living room couch.

Once they are seated, her dad folds his hands in front of him, takes a deep breath, and nods. “I’ve been reading,” he says.

That’s not quite what Alicent was expecting. “Reading?” she asks.

Her dad nods. “About how to talk to you about this,” he says, gesturing vaguely at her. “About …your identity.”

Alicent blinks. “My identity?”

Her dad looks down at his hands. “The books say it’s best to give you time. To come to me. To make sure you feel safe.” He huffs. “Perhaps I’ve botched that one, but I think I know when to talk to my own daughter.”

Alicent's vision blurs, her eyes welling up with tears. “I’m sorry,” she says.

Her dad shakes his head. He makes a gesture to grab her hand, and then seems to change his mind, and awkwardly retreats. He clears his throat. “I don’t know how to do this very well, without your mother, Alicent.” He swallows, and when he speaks again, his voice is straight. “But I am trying. I am trying to learn about all this. Rhaenyra seems like a fine young woman, and I – love you. Regardless. As much as I ever have.”

Alicent feels something in her chest uncoil, and melt and explode, all at once. She hesitates only for a moment before throwing herself into her dad’s arms. It takes two heartbeats, but then her dad is wrapping his arms around her. Alicent feels her tears fall freely on her cheeks and realizes she cannot remember the last time she hugged her dad.

“I love you too, Dad,” she says, though it might be barely audible against his chest and through her sniffles. “Thank you.”

He awkwardly pats her back. “Don’t thank me,” he replies. “You are my daughter. I love you.”

Alicent nods against his chest. “Ok.”

He squeezes her shoulders and, after a moment, clears his throat. “Now,” he says. “I’d like to hear about Rhaenyra’s intentions.”

Alicent laughs. She breaks the embrace, dries her tears with the back of her hand, and gives her dad a smile. “Let me finish the dishes,” she says, “then you can cross examine me, too.”