Chapter Text
Rhaenyra was rudely awakened for the seventh time in a row that morning.
Alicent’s alarm screeched again, vibrating harshly against the wood of the dresser. It felt like Rhaenyra’s brain was being drilled into with each pulse of the sound. Alicent hit snooze on the alarm
again.
“Baby, get your alarm.” Rhaenyra irritably groaned in protest of the continuous interruptions of her beauty sleep.
Her wife did not respond, making Rhaenyra pause for a moment of reflection.
Alicent always rose early in the morning and retired early to bed; they were opposites in that way. The blonde preferred to sleep in until late morning and stay up into the darkest hours of the night.
Rhaenyra was surprised Alicent hadn't gotten up yet. How she’d not been woken for the day, so easily returning to her slumber after each alarm was strange. Alicent was the lightest sleeper that she knew. When Rhaenyra would tiptoe into their bedroom during the hour of the bat to join her sleepy wife, she was always greeted by a pair of bleary brown eyes blinking at her through the darkness, requiring a massage from Rhaenyra’s skilled hands in order to go back to sleep.
Rhaenyra knew she should try a different approach to wake her wife, now thinking that Alicent might’ve taken offence to the command she’d grumbled out due to her morning intolerance.
Rhaenyra cuddled closer into the radiant warmth of her little spoon, pressing her nose into Alicent's neck and giving her lazy, sleepy kisses. "Good morning, my love," she whispered into the red curls that were glowing faintly in the morning sunlight. Blinking away the sleep from her lavender eyes, Rhaenyra spied the time. She rubbed her fingers on Alicent’s hip gently and raised the volume of her voice, though her tone remained soft and affectionate. "As much as I’d love for you to stay to have more snuggles, you're going to be late for work."
Alicent didn't respond, only replying with a miserable whine. Rhaenyra’s heart sank like a stone in her chest at the pitiful sound, overcome with concern.
Rhaenyra sat up in bed, reaching out to observe her lover's face, brushing away the slickened hair that clung to Alicent’s forehead. Alicent’s skin was warm to the touch, and her face was tinged a sickly shade of red.
Rhaenyra immediately recognized her wife’s state as a fever.
"Darling, you don't look like you're feeling well," Rhaenyra frowned, twisting the fabric of the sheets between the fingers of her free hand as she felt her anxiety rising, untangling her legs from Alicent’s and sliding out of their bed. "I'll call out of work for you. I'm going to take you to the doctor, okay?"
Alicent murmured a soft, "okay," as she pulled the blankets closer around herself. She kept her eyes closed, her eyebrows scrunched as if her head was throbbing with pain and the soft daylight was making it worse.
Rhaenyra quickly called into the non-profit organisation that Alicent worked at to let them know that their executive director is ill and that she wouldn't be able to come in that day. Alicent was extremely passionate about her job, having spent years dedicated to the cause of supporting the mental health of the local queer community. Rhaenyra was incredibly proud of her wife and told her that all the time.
Whenever Alicent had been ill in the past, she had insisted she was well enough to continue her important work and that it’d be fine for her to shut herself in her office with a mask on. Rhaenyra had never gotten Alicent to stay home to rest and recover from an illness before (despite her
pleading
and promises of feeding Alicent homemade chicken noodle soup) and the fact that her wife was feeling too defeated to argue was a great cause for concern.
Sickness, notably, bred moodiness in Alicent – it is something that Rhaenyra has embraced. She understood that when her wife wasn’t feeling well, she got a little short-tempered. Rhaenyra found herself wishing that her wife was being sassy to her now. Her heart ached at her motionless wife.
Her beloved truly wasn’t acting like herself, so lethargic and clearly unwell. When they were friends, girlfriends, and as fiancees she’d refused to let Rhaenyra dote on her, too proud of her independence and too stubborn to slow down. Rhaenyra wished that now that they were wives , she’d be able to care for her in that way.
Rhaenyra sent her own secretary a quick text to clear her schedule for the day. With that taken care of, she helped Alicent pick out some comfortable clothes to go to the doctor. Rhaenyra paced circles into the plush blue carpet of their room, the one they’d picked out together in Myr on their honeymoon, while Alicent sluggishly dressed herself. Despite her clear disorientation, Alicent remembered to slide the two rings back onto her dainty hand – Rhaenyra’s heart fluttered in her chest. Alicent was so proud of their love that even in her most weakened state, she paused to admire her wedding and engagement rings, never tiring from the symbols of their devotion and smiling at the sight of the golden rings and the gleaming green gemstone.
Gods
, Rhaenyra loves her so much. She stepped towards the bed, approaching cautiously in case her wife was in a snappish mood. But it seemed Alicent wouldn’t be turning away Rhaenyra’s help, hardly noticing her
“My head hurts so badly. I can’t think straight,” Alicent murmured, distressed. “Everything hurts, Nyra.”
Rhaenyra’s heart ached with sorrow for her wife’s suffering.
Rhaenyra did her very best not to kill the both of them on the drive over to their doctor’s office, but her hands were shaking as she gripped the wheel. Alicent was slumped on the passenger seat next to her. Whenever one of her loved one’s health was put into question, Rhaenyra had a tendency to spiral with worry. She was grateful for the miracle of modern medicine, but even with that, she’d nearly lost her mother.
The doctor looked at them with poorly masked concern as he returned to the room after completing the analysis of his tests.
“Gods be good,” Rhaenyra felt the blood drain from her face, bringing Alicent’s fingers to her lips so she could kiss her knuckles. “Is it the Shivers?”
“Mrs and Mrs Targaryen, we’ve determined this to be a case of the Winter Fever.”
Rhaenyra choked. She was grateful that her knees remained locked underneath her, or else she feared she’d fall to the floor. Rhaenyra remembered the sickness from the old histories – she knew it was serious and deadly. In the largest epidemic, it killed three out of every four people who fell ill. A fifth of King’s Landing population had been wiped out thousands of years ago by the virus. It could kill someone - it could kill Alicent within a span of four days.
“I understand this sounds like an intimidating diagnosis. However, rest assured that we’ll take great care of you. Luckily, this isn’t 133 AC. With plenty of medicine and rest, Mrs Targaryen should be able to recover just fine at home. The worst course of the illness lasts four days, but if the treatment works, then her fever will break. You’ve done the right thing by catching this fever early, you’re only on the first day of illness. This gives you a better projection of recovery, Mrs Targaryen, since we can intervene with medication early." He turned to Rhaenyra, adjusting his glasses. "You’ll be able to take her home today, but you should take her to a hospital immediately if her temperature reaches 40 celsius or above, or if she loses consciousness or develops any other concerning new symptoms. If her fever does not break by the end of the fourth day, you should also bring your wife to a hospital.”
Rhaenyra wanted to cry: there was a reasonable chance of recovery, Alicent could be okay after all. Rhaenyra let out a deep sigh of relief, clutching her wife’s hand tighter. Alicent shushed her gently. As weary as she was, she found the strength to comfort her wife. But Rhaenyra knew her role, she didn't want Alicent to be compelled to comfort her when Alicent is the one who is sick.
“You’re going to be just fine, sweetling. I’ll take good care of you and make sure you’re alright.” Rhaenyra bent down to kiss her on her rosy cheek, tracing lovingly over Alicent’s knuckles. Utterly besotted, rooted at her side with their fingers intertwined, she stood ready for the challenge.
“Doctor, please tell me everything I need to do to help her get better.”