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Rhaenyra Targaryen was a woman of many talents.
She could charm just about anyone if she wanted to, tie a cherry stem with her tongue without opening her mouth, speak several languages, ride a horse, rock a suit like no one else, and make even the most reluctant people laugh with just a joke and a crooked smile.
Yes.
At nearly thirty, Rhaenyra Targaryen was a woman full of talent. But she had to admit: one thing escaped her.
Cooking.
Indeed, in the narrow kitchen of her best friend's apartment, a clumsy clinking sound broke the silence — Rhaenyra had just dropped a spoon into the cake batter. She let out an exasperated groan.
“I don’t think it’s supposed to be that liquidy,” she grumbled, watching the spoon sink into the mixture.
“I don’t think so either.”
Beside her, a crystalline laugh rose up. As always, Rhaenyra tried not to pay too much attention to it. Tried not to feel too proud of being the one who could always make Alicent laugh. And had been able to do so for so, so many years...
“That’s not cake batter, that’s literally water,” Alicent teased gently, dipping the tip of her finger into it.
“Hey!” Rhaenyra protested.
Her eyes unfortunately followed the movement — watching Alicent bring her finger to her lips and suck off the batter with those full lips. Her brain short-circuited for a moment.
“What?” Alicent asked, blinking slowly.
Rhaenyra crashed back into reality.
“That’s not hygienic!” she blurted out — a little too fast.
“It’s not like you’re keeping the batter,” Alicent said with a shrug. She gave her a questioning look. “Right?”
Rhaenyra looked away and stared at the culinary disaster she’d created. “I guess not.”
Another laugh filled the room. A smirk tugged at the corner of Rhaenyra’s lips.
“Remind me why I’m doing this,” she muttered.
“Because you love your brother?”
“Ugh,” Rhaenyra groaned, tilting her head back. “Barely.”
Alicent laughed again, and Rhaenyra’s heart sped up — like always.
“I think it’s sweet you want to make him a homemade cake for his birthday,” Alicent said with a little shrug.
The movement brought them a bit closer. Rhaenyra felt their arms brush. And there it was again — a new level of heart arrhythmia.
“I was going to give him an overpriced watch,” she mumbled.
She had already bought it, in fact. Not because she thought she’d mess up the cake — no, of course not — but because there was no way Aegon was getting only a cake for his eighteenth birthday. Targaryens deserved to be showered in gold and gifts, every last one of them. She only had one brother, and there were eleven years between them. She’d always teased him, protected him, even covered for him when he snuck out. Rhaenyra didn’t like her little brother. She adored him. But she’d never said that, because Targaryens had their pride.
“A watch he already owns in like five different versions?”
“Still better than this ! He’s not even gonna want to taste it!” Rhaenyra groaned, now desperately looking for a valid excuse to give up. She put on a dramatically outraged voice: “Ew, if Rhaenyra made it, I’m not touching it. I don’t wanna die of poisoning.”
Alicent burst out laughing — louder this time — the kind of laugh that always made Rhaenyra feel a little too much.
“What if I helped you?” Alicent offered. “If Aegon knows I helped, he’ll definitely want to try it. He loves my cookies.”
Rhaenyra bit the inside of her cheek. Aegon had adored Alicent since he was a newborn. Because she was gentle, kind, and affectionate with him. Aegon had never known their mother — she died in childbirth — but he had always known Alicent.
Not that she was a substitute mother — that would be ridiculous, considering she was the same age as Rhaenyra — but she had enough softness in her to make up for a lot of the things neither Rhaenyra nor their father could offer Aegon.
Alicent loved children, and Rhaenyra often wondered if she ever thought about having her own. She’d never dared ask, afraid she’d answer “Oh yes, I’d love to have tons of kids with some woman.” Because even though Rhaenyra knew Alicent didn’t belong to her, that she was JUST her best friend, the mere idea of her building a family with someone else hurt far, far too much.
By the Seven. She was so ridiculously in love with her — and had been for so long — it was honestly fucking embarrassing. She’d tried to move on, really. She’d had plenty of girlfriends, and sometimes it worked, sometimes she actually managed to forget about Alicent. But every time, every single time, Alicent would do something — a gesture, a word — that proved no one else knew her better. And Rhaenyra would fall all over again. Like today.
“I’m offering to help,” Alicent said simply.
“And in exchange?” Rhaenyra asked, curious.
“Why should there be an exchange?” Alicent replied, her voice a little too soft.
Rhaenyra gave her a look, one eyebrow raised. Alicent rolled her eyes, mock-annoyed.
“Okay, fine — in exchange, you come with me to the opera Thursday night,” she said, looking far too pleased with herself.
Oh, how cruel. Rhaenyra hated the opera. It was painfully long, unbearably boring, and she never understood the plots.
“This feels like a wildly unfair trade,” she grumbled, crossing her arms.
She couldn’t help but roll her eyes again — but this time with a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. She didn’t even need to use that voice. Rhaenyra would follow her anywhere. To the end of the world. To the moon, if needed. Honestly, if Alicent ever realized how much power she had over her…
“Okay, okay, fine. Deal,” she surrendered.
Alicent laughed softly and rolled up her sleeves to the elbows. She was wearing an old charcoal-gray sweater (originally Rhaenyra’s), worn but soft, a little too big for her. It hung off her hips like a living blanket. She’d left it on the back of the couch one morning. Alicent had put it on “because it was a bit chilly,” she had said. Innocently. Casually. And since then, it had become hers. Rhaenyra wouldn’t have asked for it back for anything in the world.
Well… maybe she would. Just to smell it again and again in her bed at night. But then she’d look like a total creep, and Rhaenyra had her pride.
So no — she’d never ask for that damn sweater back.
Sweater she’d been staring at for the last ten minutes, by the way. Which might explain why she’d completely messed up the cake batter. Not because she sucked at cooking — no — but because Alicent was far too distracting.
“I say we toss this and start over from scratch,” Alicent said confidently.
She picked up the bowl with her slender fingers, her index and ring fingers adorned with gold rings — one from her mother, the other a gift from Rhaenyra. Her scent — that mix of clean soap and something a little sweet — drifted up to Rhaenyra’s nose, and she completely forgot how to breathe.
She blinked. Then tried to focus on the recipe. Or the countertop. Or literally anything that wasn’t Alicent’s scent. By the Seven, she totally looked like a psychopath.
She was going to end up in an asylum one day. And when they asked her why she was institutionalized, she’d say it was because she was obsessed with Alicent Hightower.
In fact, if Alicent ever knew half of what went on in her head, she’d probably run far, far away, never speak to her again, and tell everyone how utterly deranged Rhaenyra was.
But for now, her best friend had no idea. And Rhaenyra intended to keep it that way.
So she watched as Alicent grabbed the flour with practiced ease and measured the amount without even glancing at the scale. Rhaenyra watched her work with the same intensity as a scientist observing a rare and sacred experiment.
“You’re eyeballing that?” she asked, genuinely impressed.
“It’s experience,” Alicent replied, focused, a little crease forming between her brows. “And I always use the same recipe.”
“Classic Alicent,” Rhaenyra murmured, watching her tear open the packet of baking powder and mix it into the flour. “Brilliant and terrifying.”
Alicent raised an eyebrow but said nothing, then handed her the wooden spoon.
“Want to stir while I go get the eggs?”
“Absolutely,” Rhaenyra replied — far too enthusiastically.
She grabbed the spoon like it was a legendary sword, plunged it into the bowl, and started stirring. Slowly. Way too slowly.
She was distracted — obviously — by Alicent, who had opened the fridge and bent forward slightly to look inside. Rhaenyra abruptly looked away.
Don’t stare at her ass. Don’t be a pervy psychopath.
“There aren’t many left,” Alicent said, returning with three eggs and placing them on the counter. “But it should be enough for the cake.”
Rhaenyra said nothing. She was too busy stealing a glance at the strands of copper-red hair escaping from Alicent’s clip. They’d gone through school together, always sitting next to each other — or sometimes with Alicent up front and Rhaenyra at the back because she wanted to sleep — and she couldn’t even count how many hours she’d spent just watching those long, beautiful red curls.
Be normal, she thought, practically yelling it in her head. Stop staring at her hands. Or her hair. Stop thinking about her ass. Stop—
“You can add the sugar now,” Alicent said, pulling her out of her spiral.
Rhaenyra grabbed the sugar packet. Poured some. A lot. Too much?
“Stop!” Alicent yelled, laughing.
“What?” Rhaenyra cried, feigning outrage. “I thought we were eyeballing things now?”
“Not sugar! Never sugar!” Alicent replied, stepping closer to snatch the packet from her. “You trying to give your brother diabetes before he turns eighteen?”
“Tempting, honestly.”
They both laughed, their shoulders brushing again. Rhaenyra felt the contact like a jolt of electricity. She forced herself to breathe through her nose. Don’t look at her eyelashes. Don’t think about that sweater. Don’t—
Alicent gave her a smile that knocked the breath from her lungs.
“I’ll handle the sugar. You want to crack the eggs?”
Rhaenyra straightened like a soldier. “I was born for this.”
She grabbed an egg. Tapped it against the edge. Too hard.
The shell shattered with a loud crack, and the egg splattered between her fingers. Egg white oozed onto the counter. And onto the sweater.
“Shit.”
Alicent burst out laughing. Rhaenyra, bright red, wanted to disappear into the floor.
“I killed the egg. I ruined your sweater. I ruined my sweater,” she mumbled, horrified.
But Alicent shook her head, still laughing. “You’re hopeless.”
She grabbed a dish towel, stepped closer, and gently began wiping Rhaenyra’s fingers. Too gently. Every movement was soft. Precise.
Rhaenyra didn’t move. Even her lungs forgot what to do.
“There,” Alicent whispered. “Good as new.”
Rhaenyra blinked. She wanted to say something clever — or at least funny — something she was usually so good at. But instead, she just stood there, her hand half-cleaned, heart pounding faster than it should over a damn egg and a stained sweater.
Alicent looked up at her again. Still smiling. That bright, infuriatingly soft smile — the one that made Rhaenyra want to do stupid things. Like kiss her. Or ask if she even realized what she was doing, with her stolen sweaters and her gentle laughter and her careful hands.
“Well,” Alicent finally said, exhaling. “You wanna try cracking a second egg? Or is that too risky?”
“I can do it,” Rhaenyra grumbled, feigning offense.
She picked up another egg with surgeon-like precision, tapped it gently against the edge of the bowl, and this time, the white and yolk slipped smoothly into the mix with unexpected grace.
“See?” she said triumphantly.
Alicent clapped softly, fingertips together.
“A real pro,” she teased, eyes glinting.
Rhaenyra looked back down at the batter, just to avoid staring too long. She didn’t want to look obviously fascinated. Even if she was.
Alicent moved confidently around her, adding the rest of the eggs, a pinch of salt, a splash of vanilla. She moved with that calm ease, that quiet kind of grace you only noticed if you watched her too long. Which Rhaenyra did. Constantly.
She watched the way Alicent leaned forward. How her brow furrowed as she read a line from the old, scribbled recipe notebook. How she stirred the batter with purpose, the sleeve of her sweater slipping slightly down her wrist. How her lips pinched when she tasted — and then relaxed into an approving little pout.
It was ridiculous. Exhausting. Every detail cut her straight through.
“Wanna butter the pan?” Alicent asked, handing her a silicone brush.
“Why does that sound erotic when you say it?” Rhaenyra blurted without thinking.
Silence.
Oh fuck. Did she… did she just say it out loud?
Rhaenyra started to panic. She'd always been so good at hiding her crush on her — did she just lose all fucking control?
Alicent blinked. Then burst out laughing, surprised.
“Oh my god, are you serious?”
“No! I mean — yes! I mean — no. Forget I said that.”Rhaenyra turned scarlet. “It’s the fatigue. And… the sugar. I think I licked the spoon earlier. And it had too much sugar on it.”
Alicent was still laughing, softly now, like she didn’t want her to stop saying dumb things.
“You licked the spoon and put it back in the bowl,” she said with mock disapproval. “And I’m the one who’s unhygienic?”
Rhaenyra opened her mouth to respond. Nothing came out.
She simply grabbed the pan and buttered it with extreme care, like her life depended on it.
Alicent stepped closer, placing a hand on the edge of the pan — and their fingers brushed, just for a second. Barely anything. But enough to make Rhaenyra’s ears go hot again.
“You know I adore you, right?” Alicent said suddenly, almost in a whisper.
Rhaenyra froze.
She slowly looked up. Alicent was watching her, sincere. A little too close. A little too beautiful. As always.
“I mean… even if you murder eggs, and try to sugar-poison your brother, and you’re literally the worst baker I’ve ever met.”
Rhaenyra swallowed hard. Her heart was a drumbeat now.
“I… yeah. Me too. I adore you too.”
Alicent smiled — that slow, warm, wrapping kind of smile. Then she turned back to the mixing bowl, like nothing had happened.
Rhaenyra watched her, completely unable to think of anything but that smile. That sentence. She didn’t know if she should panic, cry, or kiss her. But she knew one thing: she wasn’t making it out of this kitchen alive.
Rhaenyra was not doing well. Not even a little. The kind of not-doing-well that made the air feel heavier, thicker — like every movement took effort. Like even breathing suddenly required intention.
Alicent, meanwhile, moved like nothing had happened. Like she hadn’t just dropped that tiny bomb with her “I adore you,” with her too-soft hands, her too-light laugh.
“Well,” she said finally, tapping the bowl with her fingertips, “I think we’re ready.”
“Ready to completely mess it up, you mean?” Rhaenyra tried, doing her best to mask her spiraling panic.
Alicent gave her an amused look. “I’ve taken control again. It’s fail-proof.”
“Oh really? So now you’re taking all the credit?”
“Obviously,” Alicent replied, grabbing the spatula. “Did you see what you did to that first egg?”
Rhaenyra raised her hands in mock outrage. “That crime will haunt me for the rest of my life.”
Alicent shook her head, still smiling, and began pouring the batter into the pan. Rhaenyra watched her, transfixed by the ease of her movements. Even scraping the sides of a mixing bowl — she somehow did it gracefully.
“You do that like you’re some kind of cake witch,” Rhaenyra murmured.
Alicent laughed softly. “Baking is a kind of magic. But you totally ruined the spell with your diabolical sugar ratio.”
“I stand by my choices,” Rhaenyra said. “I’m a baking rebel.”
“A batter anarchist,” Alicent corrected, sliding the pan into the oven.
They closed the oven door together, side by side, like a strange kind of ceremony. And then they just… stood there, not really moving, like they were waiting for something. A comfortable silence settled between them.
“How long?” Rhaenyra asked.
“Thirty to forty minutes.”
She nodded. And then — without needing to look — she felt Alicent watching her. She turned her head.
Alicent was giving her that look. The one that always completely disarmed her. Calm. Open. Gentle. Blazing. Not a word. Just that: the look.
“Should we set a timer?” Alicent asked eventually, her voice barely above a whisper.
“You mean instead of standing here for forty minutes staring at the oven like two idiots?” Rhaenyra replied, with a slightly nervous smile.
“Exactly.”
Alicent turned away, pressed a button on her phone, and set it on the counter. Then she leaned back against it, arms crossed, her face tilted toward Rhaenyra.
“We’ve got half an hour,” she said simply.
“And what do we do in the meantime?” Rhaenyra asked, suddenly very aware of how small the kitchen was. Of how close they were. Of that sweater on her shoulders.
Alicent didn’t answer right away. Then, with a falsely innocent tone:“Wanna lick the rest of the batter?”
“Kill me if I ever say no to that.”
They burst out laughing. But under it — something hummed. Something unspoken. A tight, invisible thread stretched between them, one that only needed a single step forward to snap… or tie itself into something permanent.
Rhaenyra grabbed the spatula with a defiant grin. She licked a bit of the batter, then held it out to Alicent.
“This is divine,” she said, a little surprised. “And it’s raw — I can’t even imagine how good it’ll be once it’s baked.”
“Really?”
“I swear.”
Alicent took the spatula, tasted it too — her eyes never leaving Rhaenyra’s.
The kitchen, small and ordinary just minutes ago, suddenly felt like it was holding a secret. Something they might finally be ready to uncover. Or keep brushing up against, like they had for years.
And somewhere in the oven, the cake was slowly rising.
“It’s… just cake batter,” Alicent said, running her tongue across her bottom lip — which sent a horrible, electric buzz straight through Rhaenyra’s stomach. “There’s nothing divine about it.”
“It is divine. You just don’t know how to recognize it,” Rhaenyra shot back.
“And you’re being dramatic,” Alicent replied, rolling her eyes.
To get revenge for the (entirely accurate) comment, Rhaenyra dipped her finger into the bowl and dabbed a blob of batter right onto Alicent’s nose.
“You did not just do that!” Alicent gasped — half-offended, half-delighted.
Rhaenyra shrugged innocently. “What? I didn’t do anything.”
But just as Alicent reached for the bowl — obviously preparing to retaliate — Rhaenyra caught her wrist with ridiculous ease and pulled her in, like she weighed nothing. Which, honestly, was both concerning and fascinating. Rhaenyra had noticed Alicent losing weight lately, and she’d made a mental note to make sure she ate a proper meal — every meal — from now on.
“Rhaenyra!” Alicent protested, pressed against her.
“Alicent,” Rhaenyra replied in the exact same tone.
They were so close now that Rhaenyra had a perfect view of her face — and it was really, really hard not to stare. To not get caught in every detail: the freckles scattered across her cheeks, her big hazel eyes, her full and painfully kissable lips, and that perfect nose — now tainted with cake batter.
And honestly, that batter ruined everything.
Without thinking, Rhaenyra leaned forward just a little… and pressed her lips to the tip of Alicent’s nose to lick it clean.
It wasn’t until she pulled back that she fully realized what she’d just done — the way her heart was slamming in her chest, and the bright red flush that had bloomed across Alicent’s face.
“Shit, I’m sorry!” Rhaenyra blurted, releasing her wrist. “God, I’m really — I don’t even know what came over me.”
“No… no, it’s… it’s okay,” Alicent said, eyes dropping to the floor as she tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “Really, I… I…”
“You know what? Go hang out in the living room, yeah?” Rhaenyra cut in quickly, doing everything in her power not to meet her eyes. “I’ll do the dishes.”
“But—”
“And put on some music,” she added, already collecting the bowl and wooden spoon as she turned to the sink. “It’s way too quiet in here. Like, dangerously quiet. I can hear every thought I’ve ever had.”
She turned on the tap and started scrubbing hard. Normally, she hated doing the dishes — but right now it was the only escape she had.
“Okay,” Alicent said behind her. “You’ll come join me?”
“Of course,” Rhaenyra nodded, still not looking up, eyes locked on the bowl like it was her final mission on earth.
As Alicent walked out of the kitchen — the smell of cake beginning to fill the air — Rhaenyra kept scrubbing. The hot water made her fingers go red, but she barely noticed.
She was too busy cursing herself for being such a complete idiot.
Fuck.
She was going to have to re-download Tinder for the millionth time and try, once again, to get Alicent out of her head — for the millionth time. (Realistically, it was way more than that. But she was too ashamed to admit the actual number.)
.
.
.
Rhaenyra turned off the tap and dried her hands a little too carefully, as if the towel could scrub away the awkwardness sitting just beneath her skin.
In the living room, soft music played — a voice full of held-back emotion and gentle silences. She couldn’t have picked a better song , Rhaenyra thought, eyes falling on Alicent.
She was curled up on the couch, legs tucked beneath her, wrapped in that old sweater, nervously fidgeting with the hem. Her pale fingers toyed with the wool — but that wasn’t what Rhaenyra noticed.
It was the redness around the edges. The little cuts. The picked skin around her nails.
Her heart clenched.
She knew those signs. Alicent never talked about them, but she wore them like a silent flag. The kind that meant: anxiety. The kind that meant: pain. The kind born from the pressure of impossible expectations set by an overbearing father.
Rhaenyra hated Otto Hightower.
He’d been crushing Alicent since she was a child. She had to be top of her class. The best at violin. Win every spelling bee and math contest. And college? Of course. She had to get into one of the best universities in Westeros. She had to become a lawyer. She had to be perfect .
And she was . Alicent had fulfilled every one of her father’s carefully laid dreams.
So many times during her teen years, Rhaenyra had imagined sneaking through Alicent’s window at night, helping her pack a bag, and driving off with her in her dad’s old car.
Too many times.
She approached quietly and sat down beside her — not too close, not too far. The couch creaked just a little. The music kept playing softly.
Rhaenyra hesitated. Then, slowly, she reached out. Her fingers brushed against Alicent’s, grazing the raw skin.
“You’re doing it again,” she whispered.
Alicent barely flinched, but she didn’t pull away.
“I don’t even notice,” she said, voice low and fragile. “It’s just… automatic.”
“I know.”
Silence. But not an empty one — a silence thick with heartbeats and unanswered questions.
Alicent still hadn’t moved. So Rhaenyra let her fingers slide further, gently wrapping around hers.
Not a grip — a shelter.
And when she realized she’d been holding her hand a little too long — when she noticed Alicent staring down at their fingers, now tangled together — Rhaenyra, reluctantly, let go.
“Sorry,” she murmured, for the second time in just a few minutes.
“No… it’s okay,” Alicent said softly, shaking her head.
No, it wasn’t okay. Because Alicent didn’t know everything. She didn’t know that holding her hand wasn’t just a friendly gesture for Rhaenyra. It was reverence. It was a touch she would replay over and over again tonight before falling asleep.
“Why that song?” Rhaenyra asked, changing the subject and sinking deeper into the couch.
Alicent blinked, then cleared her throat. “Because I love it.”
“It’s sad.”
“I like sad things.”
“Depressing.”
They both laughed quietly, each nestled in their corner of the couch. The music shifted into a new track — Perennial by Tony Anderson.
“Okay,” Rhaenyra said with a small shake of her head. “This one’s even more depressing than the first. Is there something you’re not telling me? Did you lose a case or something?”
“Shut up,” Alicent replied, tossing a poop-shaped pillow at her.
Rhaenyra burst out laughing as she caught it. “Remind me why I ever gave you this monstrosity?”
“Because you have the sense of humor of a four-year-old,” Alicent shot back with a small grin.
Rhaenyra opened her mouth to argue but thought better of it — because, honestly, Alicent was right, and she didn’t feel like contradicting her anyway.
Instead, she took a quiet breath and caught the scent of the cake starting to fill the small living room.
“Thanks,” Rhaenyra said, glancing at her sideways.
“For what?”
“For helping me not ruin my brother’s birthday…”
Alicent blinked, and Rhaenyra looked away.
“You’re welcome,” she whispered with a smile. “It was fun making a cake with you. Literally.”
Rhaenyra rolled her eyes. “You make it sound like I’m a total disaster in the kitchen…”
“You are a total disaster in the kitchen,” Alicent confirmed.
In response, Rhaenyra threw the poop pillow back at her. Alicent caught it effortlessly, still laughing with that crystalline laugh — the one Rhaenyra would conquer the world for.
Another comfortable silence settled in, broken only by the soft, floating notes of the music. Rhaenyra leaned back into the couch, her head slightly tilted toward Alicent.
“Do you remember when we used to pretend to get married in the schoolyard?” she asked, her tone light, almost teasing. “We were like… six? Or seven, maybe?”
They were six and a half. Rhaenyra remembered it like it was yesterday.
Alicent nodded, a smile playing on her lips. “I wore a paper crown and you gave me a Haribo ring.”
“You told me the strawberry flavor was the taste of happiness.”
“I was weird,” she said with a soft laugh.
“No,” Rhaenyra replied, staring at her, eyes shining with something she hadn’t yet decided to say. “You weren’t. You just still believed happiness was simple.”
Alicent looked down, her fingers still for once.
“Do you think it could still be that way?” she asked in a low voice. “As simple as the taste of a piece of candy?”
Rhaenyra didn’t answer right away. Then she whispered, “Yes. Of course.”
Alicent looked at her for a long time, and Rhaenyra tried very hard not to fall too deep into her best friend’s brown eyes. Alicent's gaze dropped again, but this time not out of shyness. It was more like hesitation bracing to collapse.
Then, in a voice so small Rhaenyra almost didn't hear it, she said, “Can you… come closer?”
Rhaenyra’s heart skipped a beat. And then another. It started racing as if trying to outrun the moment.
She moved without speaking, inching across the couch until their knees touched — barely, but enough. Enough to feel. Enough to notice.
Alicent didn’t pull away. She tilted her face slightly toward her, eyes flicking up to meet Rhaenyra’s, then dropping again.
The scent of the cake lingered thick and warm in the room — almost too sweet — but none of it came close to what Rhaenyra was tasting in her chest right now.
She was so, so in love with her.
It sat in her ribs like a secret she'd been carrying for years, and now it was pulsing right beneath her skin. She could feel it in her fingertips, in the way her breath caught every time Alicent moved the slightest inch closer.
And Alicent was moving closer. Not obviously — not boldly. Just a shift of weight, the slow curling of her fingers against her knee. But it was enough.
They were close enough now that Rhaenyra could see the faint freckles on her cheeks, the ones the sun had drawn there when they were twelve. She wanted to count them again, like she used to.
“Rhaenyra…” Alicent murmured, voice breathy, almost scared.
“Yes?” she whispered back.
But Alicent didn’t finish her sentence. She just looked at her — eyes soft and searching, like she was trying to memorize her.
And Rhaenyra had never, ever wanted to kiss someone more in her life.
Alicent looked down at her hand and then back up, a small smile tugging at her lips.
“You know,” she said softly, “I still kept that Haribo ring.”
Rhaenyra blinked, incredulous. “You kept it? Isn’t it… rotten by now?”
Alicent rolled her eyes playfully. “Of course I ate the candy. But the little plastic ring? That stayed intact.”
They shared a quiet laugh, the kind that fills the space with warmth.
After a pause, Rhaenyra’s voice softened. “Why did you keep it?”
Alicent’s cheeks flushed a gentle pink, and she looked away, playing nervously with the edge of her sweater.
Rhaenyra’s eyes never left her.
Finally, Alicent shrugged lightly, then murmured, almost shyly, “Because… I always hoped that one day, I’d marry you for real.”
The words hung in the air like a secret spell.
In that instant, the world seemed to stop for Rhaenyra — the soft hum of the music, the distant ticking of a clock, even the smell of the cake faded into silence.
All that mattered was Alicent’s trembling confession and the steady pounding of her own heart.
Rhaenyra’s breath caught, her heart hammering painfully against her ribs. For a moment, she couldn’t speak — couldn’t even move. The simple, honest truth Alicent had just shared hit her harder than anything before.
Alicent glanced up, cheeks still rosy, eyes wide and uncertain. She tucked a stray curl behind her ear, suddenly shy under Rhaenyra’s unwavering gaze.
“Do you… mean that?” Rhaenyra finally whispered, her voice barely audible.
Alicent nodded slowly, biting her lower lip.
Rhaenyra swallowed hard, the space between them shrinking, the warmth of Alicent’s presence pulling her closer like a magnet.
“I always want to marry you for real too,” she admitted, voice trembling a little.
The shy smile Alicent gave her was like sunlight breaking through a cloudy sky. “Really?”
“Y... yeah,” breathed Rhaenyra, unable to believe what had just happened — what Alicent had just said. It felt like a dream. A dream that had finally come true.
They stayed like that for a long moment, the tension between them sweet and fragile, full of unspoken promises and hopes.
Rhaenyra’s fingers twitched, wanting to reach out but unsure if it was welcome. Alicent’s hand, resting gently on her knee, gave the smallest, encouraging squeeze.
And just like that, the distance they’d carried for years — the doubts, the fears — seemed to melt away, leaving only the quiet certainty of something real, something waiting to bloom.
Rhaenyra reached out slowly, her hand trembling just slightly as she took Alicent’s. Their fingers intertwined naturally, fitting together like pieces long meant to connect. Alicent’s gaze dropped shyly to the floor, cheeks flushed with a soft, rosy glow, but Rhaenyra held on, giving her hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
In that simple touch, Rhaenyra poured everything she couldn’t say aloud—the years of quiet longing, the secret dreams, the countless stolen glances and shared moments. That squeeze carried the weight of unspoken love, a silent promise that she was there, and she wasn’t going anywhere.
Because Alicent had always been her anchor, her light in the darkness, the one constant in a world that so often felt uncertain. For so many years. For so, so long. And now, at last, they were here—together in this fragile, perfect moment.
Rhaenyra was about to ask if she could kiss her—to finally bridge the fragile space between them—but before the words could form, Alicent stood up abruptly, gently pulling her hand free.
“I should check on the cake,” Alicent said, voice light but hurried, already turning toward the kitchen.
Rhaenyra blinked, watching her walk away, her heart pounding in sudden, aching confusion. They’d set the timer; there was no need to check the cake now.
But stubbornness—and something deeper, something reluctant to let go of the fragile magic they’d just shared—pulled Rhaenyra up and after her.
She stepped into the kitchen, the warm scent of baking cake thick in the air, and stood quietly behind Alicent, the unspoken tension between them hanging heavier than before.
Alicent hovered near the oven, her fingers nervously adjusting the timer as if it could somehow steady the whirlwind inside her. Her voice was soft, barely carrying over the hum of the kitchen.
“The cake… it smells good, doesn’t it? I hope it’s not burning.”
But Rhaenyra barely registered the words. Her gaze was locked on Alicent—the curve of her jaw, the way her breath caught just slightly every time she spoke, the nervous tapping of her foot against the floor. Every small gesture seemed magnified, weighted with meaning only Rhaenyra could feel. She was so deeply in love it hurt—a sweet ache that pulsed behind her ribs.
Without thinking, her hand reached out, trembling just a little, and took Alicent’s. The contact was electric—warm and grounding all at once. Alicent froze, then slowly turned to meet her eyes.
“Are you okay?” Rhaenyra whispered, her voice thick with concern and something more vulnerable—hope, maybe.
“S..sure. I’m totally fine.”
“Don’t look like it.”
Alicent swallowed, her eyes flickering down, then back up, shimmering with unshed tears.
“It’s just that… I don’t know what to do,” she admitted, her voice breaking. “I’ve wanted to say this for so long… but now, it feels like I’m just… lost. Like maybe I’m too late, or it’s too much.”
Rhaenyra’s heart shattered and soared all at once. The weight of those words—the admission that Alicent had felt the same confusion, the same helpless yearning—made the world tilt. For years, they’d both been hiding behind walls of silence and fear. Now those walls crumbled.
Before Alicent could say another word, Rhaenyra closed the gap between them, her lips pressing softly but urgently against hers. The kiss was tentative at first, testing, trembling with all the feelings neither dared voice until now.
And then the world seemed to explode in color and sensation—the scent of the cake mingling with Alicent’s warmth, the steady beat of their hearts syncing in the quiet kitchen, the brush of breath and pulse and promise. For the first time, everything felt right.
But then Rhaenyra pulled back, breath uneven, eyes wide with sudden shyness.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, voice barely audible. “I should’ve asked.”
Alicent didn’t hesitate. Her hand rose, fingers trembling as they cupped Rhaenyra’s cheek, pulling her back in with a fierce, desperate need. Her lips met Rhaenyra’s again—this time harder, deeper, pouring years of hope, fear, and love into the kiss.
Time slowed. The kitchen, the cake, the quiet moments—they all vanished, leaving only this: two souls finally finding each other.
Rhaenyra’s breath caught as she found the courage to speak, her voice low and hesitant, but filled with years of hidden longing.
“I’ve wanted you… for so long. Maybe longer than I even dared to admit to myself.”
Alicent’s eyes softened, shimmering with a mix of surprise and something like quiet joy. She gave a small, almost shy smile.
“Looks like we’ve both been pretty useless at this whole love thing, huh?”
Rhaenyra chuckled, a warm, shaky sound that was part nervousness, part relief.
“Yeah… hopelessly useless. Damn it, all this time, fumbling around, afraid to say the simplest things.”
Alicent’s smile widened, and before either of them could second-guess, she leaned forward. Their lips met again—soft, tentative at first, then deepening into something urgent and full of everything they’d held back for years. The room seemed to melt away around them, the only thing that existed was the gentle press of lips, the warmth of breath, the electricity humming between their bodies.
But then, a sharp, acrid scent cut through the sweetness. The unmistakable smell of something burning.
Alicent pulled back, eyes wide.
“Oh no, the cake!” She hurried toward the oven, her steps quick and a little frantic.
Rhaenyra’s heart hammered—not from the kiss this time, but worry.
“Do you think it’s ruined?” she asked, her voice soft and uncertain as she followed closely behind.
Alicent opened the oven door, peering inside with a furrowed brow, the warm glow from the oven casting gentle light on her face.
“It looks… okay,” she said slowly, turning the cake around with a spatula. “Maybe a little more done than we planned, but it’s not burnt through and through.”
She reached over and switched off the oven, saving their creation from a total disaster. Rhaenyra let out a relieved breath, her tension easing as she stepped closer, draping an arm around Alicent’s waist. The simple touch grounded her in the moment, made everything feel real and possible.
“Guess even in baking, we’re just figuring things out as we go.”
Alicent looked up at her, her eyes full of tenderness. She smiled, and Rhaenyra felt her heart swell, the long years of waiting and wanting suddenly worth every awkward, painful moment.
In that quiet kitchen, surrounded by the smell of slightly overdone cake and the warmth of their closeness, nothing else mattered.
By the Seven, if she had any clue that baking a birthday cake for her brother with Alicent would actually get her the girl, she would’ve crashed that kitchen a long, long time ago—no questions asked.
And just imagine when Aegon finds out it was his damn birthday that forced them to finally admit their feelings. He’ll never, ever let her live it down. The sheer torture of his relentless teasing… she’d need a lifetime supply of wine just to survive.
Alicent caught her gaze, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “What’s running through that head of yours?”
Rhaenyra’s smile curved just a little more, teasing. “Oh, just thinking about where we left off… before that stupid cake stole the spotlight.”
Alicent rolled her gorgeous eyes, voice playful but soft. “Cakes can’t be stupid, you know.”
Rhaenyra leaned in just a bit, voice low and teasing. “This one definitely is—because it got between us.”
The room seemed to shrink until it was just the two of them. Alicent’s hand found Rhaenyra’s cheek, fingers warm and steady. “Then let’s fix that.”
And with a hungry smile, they closed the space between them, lips meeting in a kiss that erased years of waiting, doubt, and silence. The cake forgotten, burning softly in the oven — nothing else mattered but the fire between them.
.
.
.
The garden was alive with the sounds of chatter, laughter, and clinking glasses. Bright sunlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled patterns over the crowd of friends and family gathered for Aegon’s birthday celebration.
Near the long, festooned table, Rhaenyra stood with her arms crossed, trying to look relaxed—but her heart was pounding. She kept stealing glances toward the kitchen doorway, hoping the cake would survive the transition from oven to party intact.
Then Alicent appeared, stepping confidently through the crowd, carrying the cake like it was a priceless treasure. She balanced the platter carefully, a small, victorious smile playing on her lips as she approached the birthday boy.
“Is this a homemade cake?” he asked.
“Yes,” Alicent said, shooting a look at Rhaenyra, “your sister baked it for you.”
Aegon’s eyes widened in mock horror when he spotted the cake.
“Wait a minute—Rhaenyra made this? Like, my sister? The same girl who’s never baked a thing in her life? The one who once tried to cook pasta directly in the fucking frying pan ?"
Rhaenyra rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t get stuck. “Yeah, Aegon, we heard you.”
His nose wrinkled in exaggerated disgust. “No way I’m eating that.”
Alicent shot Rhaenyra a knowing look and grinned. “Hey, I helped. It’s a joint effort.”
Aegon raised an eyebrow. “Oh, well that changes everything. If Saint Alicent touched it, maybe it won’t kill me.”
“Seriously, Aegon?” Rhaenyra muttered, already rolling her eyes.
He shrugged with exaggerated innocence, then took a cautious bite, chewing slowly like he was testing for poison. His face stayed unreadable, and Rhaenyra tensed, ready for a dramatic gag or theatrical collapse.
Then, surprisingly, he smiled. “Okay, okay—it’s not that terrible. It’s actually…very good. Thanks Alicent.”
“Hey!”
“...and Rhaenyra,” added Aegon with a smirked. “My beloved big sister!”
Alicent gave Rhaenyra a triumphant wink. Rhaenyra fought back a grin, still half embarrassed but secretly relieved.
As the party buzzed on and the sun dipped low behind the garden trees, casting everything in a soft gold glow, Rhaenyra found herself distracted—her eyes drifting toward Alicent, who was standing a few feet away, laughing softly with a group of friends. The way the light caught in her hair, the way she tilted her head when she listened—it made something twist, warm and impatient, in Rhaenyra’s chest. Gods, she couldn’t wait for this party to be over, just so she could have her to herself again.
That was when Aegon sidled up beside her, a half-empty soda in one hand and mischief practically oozing from his smirk.
“So,” he began, elbowing her lightly in the ribs, “when did you and Alicent officially start dating?”
Rhaenyra blinked, caught off guard. “What—how do you even know about that?”
He gave her a smug look. “Please. You two have been eyeing each other like you’re about to eat each other alive. Not exactly subtle.”
Rhaenyra gasped, scandalized. “Aegon!”
He just shrugged, completely unbothered. “What? It’s not that different from usual, honestly. You’ve always looked at her like she hung the damn moon.”
Rhaenyra turned away, trying to hide her face, but the heat in her cheeks betrayed her.
“Shut up,” she muttered.
Aegon grinned wider, clearly enjoying every second. “Sooo?”
“Well,” Rhaenyra said finally, smirking as she took a sip of her drink, “you’ll never guess how it happened…”