Chapter Text
~
The first time it happened, it was completely by accident.
For the past three hours, Rhaenyra had been laying on her couch internet surfing—YouTube, Instagram, Twitter, TikTok; her shot-to-hell attention span even had her dusting off the ancient data in her health app—when a Twitch notification had popped up on her screen.
(How it even made its way to the top of her notification centre, she had no bloody idea; the purple icon hadn't been so much as tapped on since she'd downloaded it two years ago.)
The muscle memory of her fingers had quickly responded to the flash of stimuli, and before her brain knew what was happening, Rhaenyra found herself inside her email app, where a black background greeted her with the topic line of "New on Twitch!"
In the attempt to swipe away from the promotional trap, she accidentally tapped onto one of the links, and before she could even blink in surprise, she was transported to a random stream.
(Fuck.)
Rhaenyra swore and prepared to exit whatever content awaited her, but the soft accent that was emitted from her headphones made her finger freeze.
"—llo. Hello, there."
It was an English accent. Certainly Northern, but there was a delicateness about it that suggested that the person had been tutored to soften it out, lest they be called a country bumpkin. Or worse.
A pity, that. Rhaenyra enjoyed a Northern accent. There was something honest about it, something warm, something that her lofty, clinical offices in London lacked.
The next thing that made her waver was the person in front of the camera.
It was a woman. A girl, really.
She looked much younger than Rhaenyra, and had curly red hair that was up in a business-like bun. A green turtleneck knit covered her upper torso, and around her concealed neck was a long piece of silver—a necklace, most likely.
Whatever object weighed down the chain dangled out of the camera shot. A ring? A pendent, maybe?
"—you can probably tell, I'm quite nervous." The girl spoke, her eyes—fuck, they were as big as beach balls—flickered towards the centre of the camera with the energy of a rookie newsreader. "But… I thought this would be a rather pleasant break from my boring day job. So, um…here goes nothing."
Rhaenyra looked at the viewer count.
(Two, including her.)
She then looked at the subscriber count.
(Zero.)
This was the girl's first stream, then. The genesis of her image, or whatever office-speak Mysaria would say to make people eat out of the palm of her hand during board room meetings.
Although it appeared to be her first foray into the streaming world, the girl—Alicent, Rhaenyra gleaned, from the username of Ali7ent03—was prepared. In front of her was a very thick book, some notebooks, and some pens.
So, Alicent wasn't a game streamer, but a… study session streamer? Rhaenyra rolled her eyes.
(Just her luck, out of all the streams featured in the email, she had managed to click on the most boring one.)
"This—" Alicent said, and gestured to the fuck off big tomb in front of her with palpable excitement. "—is a Roman tragedy called 'Thyestes'. It was written by a man called Seneca—"
Rhaenyra wanted to leave the stream.
(The stuffy world of academia had never interested her like the cutthroat ladder of the business sector had. She'd left school as soon as she was able, and looked back on those years with disdain.)
She wanted to leave, and yet, she didn’t. She wanted to leave, and yet, there was something about the gleam in Alicent's eye, the way her hands flapped about the space in unrestrained joy, that made Rhaenyra remain.
As it turned out, the play was exceedingly gruesome and exceedingly bloody; things that were very much up Rhaenyra's alley. Alicent’s earlier nervousness disappeared, and she spoke without a hint of uncertainty.
(It was probably Rhaenyra's first time ever listening to something without simultaneously playing Temple Run and watching an Instagram reel.)
"Does anyone have any questions?"
As soon as the words lilted into the air, Rhaenyra watched the viewer count drop down to a single, lonely digit.
Alicent's hopeful smile wilted.
Rhaenyra sighed.
Well, it would be a bit of a dick move of her not to comment. Especially if the other viewer had decided to flee at the first sign of human interaction. What a wanker, honestly.
So, she typed out a question. It wasn't the most intellectual question, nor was it particularly academic, but it was a question. If Alicent had a problem with it, then Rhaenyra could just leave the stream and delete Twitch for good.
Syrax92: whats your favourite character
Rhaenyra watched Alicent's eyes widen in surprise. The girl blinked, as if she didn't quite believe what she was seeing on her screen.
"Oh, well… thank you for your question, Syrax92," Alicent said, her smile returning. "My favourite character would have to be… Atreus. A very horrible man, all things considered, but incredibly interesting. Do you have a favourite?"
Rhaenyra thought for a moment, then typed out her reply.
Syrax92: same as u
(Atreus was a very horrible man, but his villain monologuing kept Rhaenyra's attention for far longer than her father's gala speeches, so that made his proclivity for human flesh alright by her.)
Alicent’s smile grew wider. "Ah, Atreus as well? You have good taste, Syrax92."
(Of course she had good taste. Good taste was never something Rhaenyra lacked.)
Alicent ended the stream with a small smile and a promise to go live in a week’s time; the silence left by the girl's absence hung over Rhaenyra like a fog.
(Had it always been this quiet in her flat? This still?)
It took Rhaenyra more minutes than she cared to admit to rise from her couch and leave the room and its dead air behind.
~