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Summary
On these nights, when most have left, when it’s just them, she gets a softened Rhaenyra. The sweat and strain of the day settle sweetly on her body; she undoes the top button of her shirt, rolls white sleeves over toned forearms, stretches her legs on Alicent’s furniture, comes asking for a few moments of her time. Alys would be scribbling furiously if she told her how it feels like family, sometimes, when they’re in her office, like they’re lounging together in the living room after dinner.
(Rhaenyra is married. Alicent is not.)