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Haven't been here in a hot minute because I still need to watch HotD S2, haha, but I have not forgotten about this blog. 💚

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The coronation of King Aegon II Targaryen and Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen in House of The Dragon — 1x09 | 1x10

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Regions of Westeros: the Riverlands

Stretching from the Neck to the banks of the Blackwater, and east to the borders of the Vale, the riverlands are the beating heart of Westeros. No other land in the Seven Kingdoms has seen so many battles, nor so many petty kings and royal houses rising and falling. The causes of this are clear. Rich and fertile, the riverlands border on every other realm in the Seven Kingdoms save Dorne, yet have few natural boundaries to deter invasion. The waters of the Trident make the lands ripe for settlement, farming, and conquest, whilst the river's three branches stimulate trade and travel during peacetime, and serve as both roads and barriers in times of war.

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paris paloma - labour

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listen I’m so glad you all are having fun with the dragon incest show, but I need you to understand that from the outside all I see is approximately 14 posts per day of people in truly horrific wigs with captions like “baegael did nothing wrong except all the murders”

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You should post the full screenshots, in light of everything that has happened. Not to start drama, but people should know who not to continue having a relationship with on here and block. The community feels so unsafe now that we know anyone you are talking to could be laughing at you on discord or doxxing you on social media. I only come to tumblr for the hotd fandom and it just seems to get worse here every month.

Hello, anon.

I was going to let this lie, truly I was. I was reached out to by the person behind the comments made approximately half an hour after posting, an exchange in which I was gaslighted and levied with implied threats in a style I am very much familiar with from this person. I did, however, state that I would not escalate matters without provocation. Learning about past events, while upsetting, is not a new provocation.

That has changed upon learning that my good friend Ange, @ewanmitchellcrumbs, has been receiving screenshots of specific things these users have been saying in a group chat with originally six members, now five, via burner accounts. Presumably, this is the efforts of one/two members trying to deflect from what Ange has learned about @rafeism's doxxing efforts by suggesting it was another member in the group responsible. And in the last hour, burner accounts have been attempting to share very obviously doctored screenshots attempting to assign mean-spirited comments about other writers in the community to Ange. I believe this is the work of one or both of the original two people I called out in this post, and I strongly suspect that my answering this ask will invite continued instances of this behaviour or even a direct public post incorporating edited screenshots to defame us and divert from accountability. And finally, I was informed via anon that a lawyer would come after me on the basis of lies and misrepresentation, which is a direct threat and something I will not abide.

I said I was going to expose it all if I learned of any fresh fuckery. And alas, I have. This was asked for, and now my hands are tied.

My original post was about Bel, otherwise known as @succnfuccubus or @valeskafics, and Fae, @eyelinerandcigarettes or @barbiedragon, both of whom have been historically prominent figures in the House of the Dragon fanfiction community on Tumblr.

In July of last year, Bel made a commentary post criticising fanfiction writers who did not write anal intercourse with an appropriate amount of attention paid to preparation. This was perceived to be an attack against another fanfiction writer with whom she had noted enmity at the time, @arcielee, who had written a fanfiction work that arguably did or did not meet this criteria. I do not know and cannot claim expertise on this, as @arcielee and I have mutually blocked each other some time ago. What I do know is that several of @arcielee's mutuals observed the possibility that Bel's post was about this fic; the user Cal, @bucknastysbabe or @bnb-atnite, despite having had absolutely no prior connection to Bel, decided to call her out in a public post for it. Ange, with no context other than thinking a mutual of hers (Bel) had been targeted by this user, defended Bel, believing at the time that the post was not aimed at this writer or at any specific writer she was aware of.

This prompted Cal to divert her attention from Bel and turn it toward Ange, claiming that she had been told by "dozens of people" that Ange was quote-unquote toxic and abusive, claiming to have screenshots of this though she never shared proof, and essentially spending a good several hours (the specificity of which I can no longer recall, though it was certainly over the span of 24+ hours) responding to asks that 'came forward' with incredibly inappropriate commentary about Ange's personal life and friendships under the guise of "exposing her", without however actually committing to concrete proof beyond this. I will note that several of these posts discussed the nature of Ange's marriage to her husband and outright stated that Ange was parasocially fixated on Ewan Mitchell, without proof of this. I was a peripheral target of this, though it was clear the issue was with Ange specifically. This seemed to be the efforts of a few isolated users with personal grudges against her, masquerading as anonymous users to create the perception that this toxicity was widespread. I still do not know what prompted this explosive behaviour, and have absolutely no interest in hearing from this user directly to find out.

All in all, this served to bring Bel, Ange and I together, and we created a group chat on Discord on the 26th of July 2023 so that we could discuss the effects of this effort.

Fae was added a day later, as a close friend of Bel's and an ongoing mutual of both mine and Ange. Fae had previously had a conflict with another user named Shruie over her perception that Shruie had borrowed elements of her story writing to create her own works. Shruie received hate over this, which Fae had previously stated to me was not her work. Shruie went to Cal's blog, submitted an ask publicly slandering her and us by association, and thus it was decided that Fae would join the group too.

This group originally revolved around venting over the ongoing effects of Cal's decision to publicly slander us, and the fallout of this. We received a few hate anons and several people unfollowed or distanced themselves from us all because of it, and we were all understandably angry and upset about this. This anger is justified, and I absolutely still maintain that.

However, I and others in the writing community learned that Shruie had received a number of anons with racist connotations, specifically that she had been called a 'paki' and sent rat emojis. I still am not aware of the culprit behind the 'paki' anon, but Bel herself admitted to sending the rat emojis to Shruie:

I would like to note that Fae reacted to this with the react.

I did not call this out. I should have. But given that Bel was capable of this, the idea of addressing her behaviour directly made me nervous, and so I ignored this revelation and tried to cling to the hope that if I concentrated on building closer friendships with these two women, the hate Cal was levying would die down. Eventually, it did.

However, the vitriol these two women would participate in over the course of the months we identified as 'friends' was nothing short of ugly. They did not want to speak about writing-related topics at all; the entirety of their conversation revolved around making inappropriate and at times downright nasty comments about other writers in the community, many of whom I was completely unaware of. A great deal of the time, I would ask who someone was, as I did not know them at all. Other times, I would 'lol' at a comment to further the conversation along, and I will admit to also participating in some unkind venting about people I feel had been unfair to myself or to Ange. I have already reached out to these people specifically and apologised for this behaviour, as it does not reflect who I am as a person.

Further complicating things, Bel shared the private details of a user whom we had all blocked due to her association with Cal, including the sharing of her full legal name and her private social media account. I have screenshotted this and redacted heavily as evidence it exists, but I do not wish for this information to be known public. I have already initiated conversations privately with this person to provide them evidence.

I need to be clear. This is a crime. The ONLY fortunate thing about this matter is that this information was shared specifically to Ange, Fae and I, and Ange nor I are the type of person to have acted upon the sharing of this information. To this user, I am sorry I did not reach out before now. I am sorry that I allowed our previous longstanding enmity to fuel my inaction. To this user, I promise that my knowledge of your real name or social media presence will not be revealed to anyone. I have not shared this information in any way whatsoever, though you are already aware I have spoken to a close friend of yours and asked them to pass the bare facts forward to you.

Even worse, Bel has also shared this person's image and mocked her physical appearance, which again I have a redacted screenshot of:

During the months in which I was friends with Bel and Fae, I was influenced to believe in several untruths. First of all, Ange and I were informed by Bel that a user we shall call E had deliberately chosen to speed-write a fanfiction work about Ettore in order to post it before Ange could finish her Ettore series as a means to 'drown out' her update. This fact had originally made Ange upset enough to complain without naming E directly in my public Discord server, something which spurred E to receive numerous hate anons and spark the conflict that I currently believe eventually spiralled into Cal's decision to publicly slander us. I requested evidence of this from Bel while I was writing a public post about it, so I could attach evidence. I should have known that her inability to provide it was a problem.

I was influenced to believe that another user, @targaryen-dynasty, had created her server as a means to spread inappropriate rumours about me and Ange to her mutuals. I created a falsified Discord account and joined her server to see if this fact was true; when I failed to find evidence of this after a period of time, I exited the server. I have already apologised to Laura for this, and freely admit it was stupid of me to do so. She has not engaged in inappropriate commentary about me on her server and I am happy to publicly share this. We have mended bridges, and moved on. I have also apologised to Sam, @randomdragonfires, for being unkind about her in response to Fae's upset that she had written a Daemon fanfiction work. There are many people I have been unkind about that I earnestly wish I had not been, and I have done my best to apologise for these things.

What I have not done is engage in the following.

I have a number of screenshots wherein these two women admit to sending anonymous hate messages to various users. I have reached out to who I can to provide them unredacted versions, but I will be redacting names for privacy reasons. These are throughout and as I have a photo limit, I cannot provide every single one. Here is an example:

I wish to also share the further evidence I have of racial escalations from these two women against a writer of German heritage. I have reached out to this user to share directly, but will redact the name for privacy reasons.

There are numerous instances of further hate to many, many writers. To those of you who suspect you may have had comments made about you, I invite you to reach out to me in private if you wish to know exactly what has been said. To those of you who I have already informed, I am deeply sorry I allowed myself to be silent.

Over the course of this 'friendship', I began to pull away from the internet. I barely interacted online, even with Ange, who is one of my absolute best friends on here. I did not write at all. I couldn't. I was paranoid, anxious, full of anger and fear. I was ruined. Fandom was ruined. These women ruined me. I watched on from a distance as Ange began to grow distant with Fae and Bel in the group chat, as it had been MONTHS and they were still behaving in the exact same angry, bitter way they had when they first joined the group chat. Ange grew increasingly frustrated because Bel had commenced a pattern of using Ange's content to heavily inspire her own.

It all came to a head when Bel learned that her 'enemies', Jo and Karina, had unblocked E and @arcielee and mended bridges. She decided to do the same, and in doing so apparently informed E that Ange was at fault for any and all conflict that had occurred, and I presume any and all hate anons that had been sent to E. Ange learned this because E reached out to her and sent a barrage of furious messages telling her that Bel had 'told her the truth', which Ange was completely bewildered by. Here is the exchange that effectively ended the group chat:

You will note that Bel's story is different here. I do not have screenshots verifying what Bel specifically told Ange the conversation was about, as it was a private conversation. If Ange wishes to add to this and bring this conversation up specifically, she is invited to do so.

Not long after this, seeing little point, I ejected Fae from the group and decided to leave it for the time being. You see, after learning this last fact as above, I had a very unfortunate suspicion that things were going to turn sour for us. I was right, and boy am I glad I have the evidence to dismantle the lies that have been told about us.

For a time, we existed in limbo. Bel and Fae and Ange and I had a series of lukewarm interactions that were largely brief in nature. I think we all knew that the friendship was about to come to an end. 

Then, Ange reblogged an opinion post about her dislike of the bimbo trope being used for Michael Gavey fics, believing many examples of this to be an incorrect and wildly offensive representation of what writers thought was the ‘bimbo’ trope. This prompted Cal to go on another rampage, ugly and public, and one I will not post screenshots of because let’s face it, everyone is aware that it occurred. I do have them, though. I can provide them if anyone insists. She spent further time calling Ange out for being ‘toxic’, eventually having it die down when her posts failed to gain much attention. I did hit out at a few of her mutuals who tried to claim for some reason that Ange was a racist (?) because she expressed worry about Ewan attending a Con, and hoped his fans wouldn’t behave inappropriately to him. I digress. Irrelevant. The result of this all was that Bel, without warning or notice, reached out to Cal to ‘make amends’, despite having gone through all the above. Despite the fact that she was supposedly friends with Ange, who had had her marriage, her life mocked and insulted by this woman. Over what? A perception that Ange was insulting her for her love of the bimbo trope. 

Ange told Bel directly that she wasn’t a fan of it but that she didn’t care either way that Bel wrote it if it made her happy, and Bel told her this was fine. Bel choosing to befriend Cal was something Ange and I felt was a massive, massive betrayal. We blocked Bel, and we moved on.

This was one of my final interactions with Fae:

I ended up blocking Fae because I learned she unfollowed me, and I presumed it was because of her friendship with Bel. I knew what Fae was like, didn’t want her to have access to my anon inbox, and so I blocked. For a very brief time, things were somewhat approaching peaceful. Until I started learning that people I barely associated with were being targeted. I learned that @marthawrites had been blocked by Chris and from her, that Bel/Fae/Cal/Chris had made reference to a quote-unquote “frightening degree of hatred” for me and Ange. From her, I also learned that Bel evidently had a burner she used to “camp out” on my blog and make screenshots of everything I said so she could mock it in her group chat. She did the same to Ange. I received a number of strange or unkind anons during this period, and so I can only speculate as to the person involved. I also learned that Bel has a habit of calling me “pedo” or “Pedo Em”, which I can only assume has something to do with the fact that my main character in my fanfiction is 17 when she is married. In A Song of Ice and Fire, this is tame.

I was deeply upset to learn this, and I made a vague-post. Within hours, I received the anon from this post, prompting me to respond in the manner I did. See, me being called a pedo is not a widely-circulated insult from my knowledge. It had to have been Bel to send it. Interestingly enough, she reached out to me not even an hour after my post went up, claiming she’d been sent a screenshot of it. I don’t believe this. Here is the exchange:

What surprised me most was when a formerly incredibly staunch friend of Cal and Chris, and Bel and Fae by association, reached out to me via her a different account before completely deactivating. She grew tired of the relentless hatred circulated in the group chat she previously shared with them, and left. This prompted the entire group to block her, only after Chris called her names and Cal had what was described to me as an “absolutely psychotic” rant at her. She is struggling. She was very close friends with them, and despite having engaged peripherally in the commentary they have circulated against me and Ange for a while, I cannot hold it in my heart to be angry with her for believing lies her friends have told her. She has told me that they would repeatedly mock me and Ange, constantly trash-talked about us for months, make claims of all manner of insane things, and yet never provide a SINGLE instance of proof for this.

I would like to now provide clarification for some of the specific rumours that this former mutual informed me have been spread around about me and Ange.

Ange and I are racists who told Bel off for wanting to write Bollywood HOTD fanfiction. This is categorically untrue: see this screenshot for proof that this was never mentioned.

Ange and I bullied Fae whenever she mentioned getting her treatments for her condition (which, by the way, she has discussed online and is therefore ALSO not doxxing). See the screenshots for proof that Fae has never once mentioned it. There are specific phrases that can be searched for also, but because she has not been specific about her illness online I will not disclose the nature of this.

I have made nasty comments about Chris’s child. See the screenshot below for evidence that it is in fact Bel who called the child “a little fucker”, among other things.

Ange and I have doxxed people. See…… all the above as proof we have not. This was likely a pre-emptive deflection, and I am disappointed but not surprised by it.

That I have sent hate anons to the group, which they claimed was verifiable through their 'hacker' mutual. However, the former mutual of theirs that reached out to me has sought professional feedback about this claim, and it has been concluded that the so-called hacker was "right-clicking on page analytics" in a manner that cannot possibly reveal the identity of the anon-er. Furthermore, I didn't. They have been blocked by me.

I am responsible for @emilykaldwen blocking Cal and others. See this exchange wherein Nat informs me she already had Cal blocked. As for the accusations of a block list, this is categorically untrue. I have no screenshots to share because there ar1e no screenshots at all. Because I did not do this.

I don’t know at this stage what else has been said. If anyone has anything further they’d want clarification for, I’m sure I could find evidence to disprove it.

None of this should have happened. None of this should have happened. How DARE you all. You have spent FAR too long abusing this fandom for your own sick, selfish amusement, and I am done. Nothing that has ever happened here was begun by either myself or Ange, and the fact that even NOW you are all attempting to redirect the blame on us or even on each OTHER is truly, truly shameful. 

What was the purpose, ladies? What is possibly going on in your life that being so angry, so hateful filled you with so much joy? Now, you’ve gone past the point of no return. You cannot come back from this. You cannot deflect from this. I’m sure you’re going to try to, maybe even to come up with “evidence” that none of this is true. You’ll lie, you’ll scramble, and you will not apologise, I’m sure. You should. Do you understand how far past the line you have crossed? Do you understand that we are actual, real people? This isn’t a game where you’re making sport out of upsetting a bunch of pixels. Ange is a journalist. I am a teacher. We are adults with full time jobs and full time lives and full time human experiences, and you have done your absolute level best to destroy us. I don’t understand why. I don’t understand how you could do this to another person. I don’t know what to do to make you stop. Do I need to deactivate? What do I need to do? You have terrified me beyond belief. I am so, so afraid of you. Does that make you happy?

I’m just speechless.

And to those of you still—STILL—clinging to supporting these women… You’re either stupid or just as horrible. I really don’t know what your problem is with us. With me. We’ve been holed up doing nothing for months, and that STILL wasn’t enough for you. This isn’t a game. This isn’t something you can win. This is real life, and you are making people suffer. For fucking fanfiction.

I am open to letting bygones be bygones if you genuinely didn’t know any of the above information. However, to the four of you—Bel, Fae, Chris, Cal—I do not wish you kindness. I do not wish you empathy. I do not wish for anything at all but for you to leave us alone, finally. You have burned just about every bridge possible, and the only people at fault are you. If you attempt to ‘reconcile’, your burners will be reported. If you attempt to further slander us, your posts will be reported. We are in the process of figuring out what legal recourse there is, because this has gone beyond ‘mean’ and straight to cyberstalking and criminal offence. I want you to take a good, long think about why on earth you ever thought any of this behaviour was okay. And then, I want you to stop. Stop. No one’s safety is worth your ego on Tumblr.com.

To everyone else. Please don’t get involved. Do not send any anons, any messages, any vitriol to these women. Let them reflect in peace and silence. Or let them bang at the walls of the prison of their own making. Let them lie to themselves as much as they wish.

I don’t know what to do anymore. But if anyone does have a similar story to tell about these women, please reblog this and share it. It'd be nice to know I'm not alone.

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get to know the members of @gay! ↳ favourite headcanon ship by aish ⋆ rhaenicent “queen alicent has not forgotten the love you once had for each other.”

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First official posters of Alicent Hightower and Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen HOUSE OF THE DRAGON | SEASON 2

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Our hearts were never one. I see that now. Rather, I have been a piece that you moved about the board.

Olivia Cooke as ALICENT HIGHTOWER in The House of the Dragon (2022-)

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Reblogging my fic just the once to say thank you to everyone who liked and/or reblogged this so far. 💕 @ewanmitchellcrumbs, @emilykaldwen, @mercurygray and @zae5 left absolutely wonderful commentary that made me smile a lot, and I'm very pleased to hear that my first try at writing Aegon turned out so well! I really appreciate the love y'all gave me, ty!!

I am very blessed to have good friends who'll let me deal with my writer's block by offering me take-it-or-leave-it prompts. 😊 As such, this little fic was born a little while after @mercurygray prompted me "precious treasure - dreams - illusion". (And I have used all three in this one, if you count one of the meanings of my OC's name..)

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen/OFC Rating: Explicit Warnings: sexual content, prostitution, Aegon cheating on Helaena Word count: around 1k

He has left Helaena to her ravings again.

It was the fifth dawn like this in too short a time. Waking and hearing his wife is unwell. Rising to find his children ensconced in his mother’s bedchamber. Walking through the halls of the Keep and feeling the sting of everyone's glances – unwell, they say, or mad perhaps – as if he can help what has been happening to her since they were both children. Seeing his wife in her sitting room, pacing the length of it in that funny way she has where she refuses to step on the cracks between one stone and the next.

Feeling like he’s going to go mad with it, too, except he always listens to his stone-faced mother and his half-dreaming wife until his feelings hardly seem to matter much at all.

There is a craving, Aegon, his wife had said, violet eyes both seeing and not seeing him all at once, one with claws that go shhrrrkk and eyes of amber amber amber there goes the cup again. Her hands had almost clawed at his tunic before he could good and well scramble backward. It sings with many faces and offers many names. Oh yes, oh yes, when the cup spins, you must listen, rim bim bim goes the bell that tolls farewell.

He’s done listening now.

The only cup that spins is the one he is currently holding carelessly in one hand. There’s an amber swirl in the depths of it, if he looks closely enough. Aegon snorts to himself just a little. Tips the remainder of the liquid into his mouth – the sharp sting on his tongue, the burn already washing down his throat, and a warm belly’s worth of lightheadedness – and sets the cup down beside him. Pours himself another amber-filled cup moments after. Raises it in a firm toast before knocking half of it back in one fell swoop.

“A celebration, my Prince?”

Aegon blinks at the question posited by a soft, slightly accented voice. “A toast,” he says, savouring the aftertaste. “To my darling wife”– he is not lying, not truly, because darling is what Aemond still calls their sister whenever she’s raving about her dreams –“and to you, my latest cockwarmer.”

The woman’s mouth curls up almost mirthlessly. “Quite the toast,” she says, brazen as dragonfire, eyes hooded and dark in this candlelight. She’s a new one, or so he has been told. All dark hair and soft curve, skin like molten gold, costing a rather royal sum. Fresh off some boat from, what was it, Qarth? Whatever it is, she’s clearly not new at this altogether if the look in her eyes is anything to go by. “Would my Prince wish me to start as a cockwarmer, or does he have something else in mind?”

“It is Aegon,” he says, beckoning her closer. “Just Aegon. Not Prince, not future King, and least of all the Second of my Name.” By the Seven, even speaking a part of his future title sounds like a formality he could good and well do without. “What do they call you, hm?”

“Alanna,” she says, so smoothly that he almost believes she was born with the name.

“Alanna.” He repeats her name. Savors it on his tongue a moment as his gaze lands on her single exposed breast, which rests heavy and honey-toned against her almost sheer gown. He beckons her closer still, drinking in the clear strain of her still-covered nipple against the fabric, feeling himself go half hard at the sight of a curly patch of hair between her thighs that her gown can’t hide. “Is this the Quartheen fashion, then? Dressing like the whore you are?”

“You like it, do not lie,” she laughs, throaty and warm, not offended in the way the women of court so often are, as she sinks down on the seat beside him. “I see you looking”– and, oh, it is not fair how her fingers pinch at her nipples until he wants to do naught more than take them into his mouth and suckle on them –“and you’re so hungry for my cunt, aren’t you?”

He catches himself nodding along with her words. Catches himself leaning into her touch, warm against his brow, as though he is starved for the heat she radiates. And perhaps he is just that, starved and ravenous, latching on to the soft skin of her neck with his mouth and a hint of teeth, hands squeezing the curve of her hip and exposed breast until he can hear the hitch of her breath against his ear. Mouth journeying down until his teeth close around that already-bared nipple and her hand is loosening his breeches. Tongue lapping at her skin while she spits into her palm and slips a rather practiced fist around his cock that leaves him twitching against her fingers all too soon.

Alanna, Alanna, he offers to the dirtied ceiling that has seen far better days than this one. There are tears in his eyes that he can’t blink away. He spies a flash of dark amber in her eyes when his fingers wander beneath her gown until they go damp with her heat and her breath becomes a keening sound that shoots straight to his cock. He would almost think her a mirage, some illusion from his sister’s visions that left her raving this morning, except that her wet heat clamps down around his fingers when he can’t help but want more of her. Except that she keens his name in his ear in what almost sounds like a plea – and oh, she really is worth every scrap of coin when he slips his fingers from her heat only to have her sink down on his cock instantly.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she sighs against his mouth, his wet cheek, his ear. She doesn’t comment on his tears. Merely lets her cunt clench around his cock, her own fingers guiding his to the little nub between her thighs that makes her drip around him even more, until he is almost shaking beneath her. Her smile could almost be called satisfied. “It’s okay to want, Aegon.”

For a moment, he almost dares believe that maybe this hunger is all he is.

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“The Old, the True, the Brave” - House Velaryon

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I am very blessed to have good friends who'll let me deal with my writer's block by offering me take-it-or-leave-it prompts. 😊 As such, this little fic was born a little while after @mercurygray prompted me "precious treasure - dreams - illusion". (And I have used all three in this one, if you count one of the meanings of my OC's name..)

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen/OFC Rating: Explicit Warnings: sexual content, prostitution, Aegon cheating on Helaena Word count: around 1k

He has left Helaena to her ravings again.

It was the fifth dawn like this in too short a time. Waking and hearing his wife is unwell. Rising to find his children ensconced in his mother’s bedchamber. Walking through the halls of the Keep and feeling the sting of everyone's glances – unwell, they say, or mad perhaps – as if he can help what has been happening to her since they were both children. Seeing his wife in her sitting room, pacing the length of it in that funny way she has where she refuses to step on the cracks between one stone and the next.

Feeling like he’s going to go mad with it, too, except he always listens to his stone-faced mother and his half-dreaming wife until his feelings hardly seem to matter much at all.

There is a craving, Aegon, his wife had said, violet eyes both seeing and not seeing him all at once, one with claws that go shhrrrkk and eyes of amber amber amber there goes the cup again. Her hands had almost clawed at his tunic before he could good and well scramble backward. It sings with many faces and offers many names. Oh yes, oh yes, when the cup spins, you must listen, rim bim bim goes the bell that tolls farewell.

He’s done listening now.

The only cup that spins is the one he is currently holding carelessly in one hand. There’s an amber swirl in the depths of it, if he looks closely enough. Aegon snorts to himself just a little. Tips the remainder of the liquid into his mouth – the sharp sting on his tongue, the burn already washing down his throat, and a warm belly’s worth of lightheadedness – and sets the cup down beside him. Pours himself another amber-filled cup moments after. Raises it in a firm toast before knocking half of it back in one fell swoop.

“A celebration, my Prince?”

Aegon blinks at the question posited by a soft, slightly accented voice. “A toast,” he says, savouring the aftertaste. “To my darling wife”– he is not lying, not truly, because darling is what Aemond still calls their sister whenever she’s raving about her dreams –“and to you, my latest cockwarmer.”

The woman’s mouth curls up almost mirthlessly. “Quite the toast,” she says, brazen as dragonfire, eyes hooded and dark in this candlelight. She’s a new one, or so he has been told. All dark hair and soft curve, skin like molten gold, costing a rather royal sum. Fresh off some boat from, what was it, Qarth? Whatever it is, she’s clearly not new at this altogether if the look in her eyes is anything to go by. “Would my Prince wish me to start as a cockwarmer, or does he have something else in mind?”

“It is Aegon,” he says, beckoning her closer. “Just Aegon. Not Prince, not future King, and least of all the Second of my Name.” By the Seven, even speaking a part of his future title sounds like a formality he could good and well do without. “What do they call you, hm?”

“Alanna,” she says, so smoothly that he almost believes she was born with the name.

“Alanna.” He repeats her name. Savors it on his tongue a moment as his gaze lands on her single exposed breast, which rests heavy and honey-toned against her almost sheer gown. He beckons her closer still, drinking in the clear strain of her still-covered nipple against the fabric, feeling himself go half hard at the sight of a curly patch of hair between her thighs that her gown can’t hide. “Is this the Quartheen fashion, then? Dressing like the whore you are?”

“You like it, do not lie,” she laughs, throaty and warm, not offended in the way the women of court so often are, as she sinks down on the seat beside him. “I see you looking”– and, oh, it is not fair how her fingers pinch at her nipples until he wants to do naught more than take them into his mouth and suckle on them –“and you’re so hungry for my cunt, aren’t you?”

He catches himself nodding along with her words. Catches himself leaning into her touch, warm against his brow, as though he is starved for the heat she radiates. And perhaps he is just that, starved and ravenous, latching on to the soft skin of her neck with his mouth and a hint of teeth, hands squeezing the curve of her hip and exposed breast until he can hear the hitch of her breath against his ear. Mouth journeying down until his teeth close around that already-bared nipple and her hand is loosening his breeches. Tongue lapping at her skin while she spits into her palm and slips a rather practiced fist around his cock that leaves him twitching against her fingers all too soon.

Alanna, Alanna, he offers to the dirtied ceiling that has seen far better days than this one. There are tears in his eyes that he can’t blink away. He spies a flash of dark amber in her eyes when his fingers wander beneath her gown until they go damp with her heat and her breath becomes a keening sound that shoots straight to his cock. He would almost think her a mirage, some illusion from his sister’s visions that left her raving this morning, except that her wet heat clamps down around his fingers when he can’t help but want more of her. Except that she keens his name in his ear in what almost sounds like a plea – and oh, she really is worth every scrap of coin when he slips his fingers from her heat only to have her sink down on his cock instantly.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she sighs against his mouth, his wet cheek, his ear. She doesn’t comment on his tears. Merely lets her cunt clench around his cock, her own fingers guiding his to the little nub between her thighs that makes her drip around him even more, until he is almost shaking beneath her. Her smile could almost be called satisfied. “It’s okay to want, Aegon.”

For a moment, he almost dares believe that maybe this hunger is all he is.

[alicentive]

Things you said... when I wasn't meant to hear. For Iselde, please! 💚

I liked the conversation we were having about dragons and plane classes and Masters of the Air too much to put it back down. Some 1940s AU? Because that's a thing I do now, apparently? (Who am I kidding. It's the 40s. I practically live here.)

Also, fair warning, it's 🌶️🌶️🌶️.

It would be just like him to give the game away.

They were hiding in the loft, in with all the spare parts for his Spitfire. "A little afternoon treat," Aegon had said with a smile, as he'd undone the buttons on her coveralls and slid down his trousers. And it had all been a treat, until Eric and Aric had come into the hangar, arguing.

Iselde watched Aegon's eyes widen with delight, and before he could make a single sound her hand was against his mouth, stifling any laughter he might let out.

There was no way on earth she was going to let her brothers know that she was up here half-naked with the Prince.

It was easy enough for them - they'd tended to the Prince's planes since before the war started and now they were doing the same work they'd always done, keeping him out of harm's way. (In more ways than one, some days.) But things were different for her - no one wanted a woman mechanic. It was sheer luck that Helaena had found her at one of the air races and offered her a job - and sheer madness that the Royal Family would let her keep it, even when the Princess was no longer allowed to fly. Helaena had that trick of making her father do what she wanted - the youngest and sweetest of his children, the one he couldn't ever say no to.

It wasn't as easy for his eldest son. She knew that Aegon sometimes wanted to be caught, just for the danger of it, the same way she knew that sometimes he flew his plane like he wanted to die. It was how he did everything else in his life, wasn't it? The carelessness and reckless abandon for everything and everyone who might have cared about him.

She pitied him, really - the best education money could buy, more power and privilege than a man could rightfully use, and still missing the one thing no one could buy him - his father's praise. He could fly every sortie in the world, shoot down more of the enemy than any other pilot alive, and the King would still ignore him, and pull his daughter to the front of the parade review. (Iselde pitied Rhaenyra, too - a crack pilot like her ought to have been flying herself. But women weren't supposed to fight.) So he would come home, and drink, and drown it all out until the next battle, the next siren, the next raid.

Pity could do strange things to a woman. Three pilots had gone down in heavy fog, and he'd rolled in, chalked his losses on the board with the WingCo, and shucked off his gear with every intention of doing nothing else that night but draining a bottle in the officer's club. She'd caught him in between the sheds and kissed him, hard and fierce, and murmured something about a better time, and he'd been all too quick to take her up on that - the fulfillment, he'd told her later, of months of unspent ambition on his part.

She'd learned since then he sometimes liked being denied things. There weren't many people who told princes no, who made him wait for what he wanted. He had a quick mind, when he wanted to, a good head for strategy, and he liked games, a chance to prove himself. She could use that, when she needed to - and she needed it today. She pressed her hand firmer against his mouth, her implication clear. Say a word, and all of this ends.

"I can't believe you accepted! Are you mad?" Aric's voice was loud and angry.

"Keep your voice down - someone could hear."

"Someone probably already has! How do you know you weren't seen?"

"I was careful. I just…I wanted to hear what she had to say."

"You swore an oath to the King, Eric!"

"And she'll be Queen one day, won't she? What's the treason in that?"

If he was listening at all, the talk of treason seemed hardly worrying to him. Aegon was smiling against her hand, the very tip of his tongue teasing the skin of her palm, his cock somehow feeling harder now than it had before. She'd made him stop mid-stroke, one arm holding himself up while the other held her thigh crooked to his shoulder, and she could feel the impatience of his desire wrestling with his reckless streak. Do you want to be found out, she'd asked, one day, after his brother Aemond had nearly caught them in his barracks. I don't like keeping secrets, he'd murmured into her ear, his voice dropping straight between her legs. I want him to know you're mine. Wouldn't it be wonderful to watch him blush?

Everything else about his life was public - why shouldn't this be? He was too used to people taking pictures of him to know that some things should stay - could stay - between the two of them, and still be sweet.

And it would be so easy to let him get his way. She'd thought about it, sometimes. But she knew what he did with power - better to keep her own. And what about what I want, she'd asked, a slight edge on her voice. They would send me away if they knew about us. That was true enough. The Queen would get her posted to the furthest post in the Outer Hebrides if she knew what they were up to, her daughter's mechanic and her oldest son. Alicent already only barely tolerated her work for Helaena - sleeping with Aegon would be bridge too far.

And maybe, just maybe, if she helped him hang on long enough, the war would be over, and his father would finally see what he'd been missing.

His hand was moving again, brushing silently along the length of her leg, and she could feel his lips smiling against her hand. If I can't break my silence, his eyes said silently, maybe I'll break yours.

But she wanted to hear what Aric would say. "I only hope you know what you're doing," he said, finally, resigned to whatever his twin had revealed. "Because you won't get any help from me."

A door slammed, and she heard the sounds below of the radio being flicked on and the machine shop starting up. Eric wouldn't hear a thing. She let her hand fall, and Aegon beamed, thrusting into her with a suddenness that made her gasp, placing his left hand back down on the floor so he could keep his balance while he finished fucking her.

Iselde closed her eyes and let the pleasure take over. He's good at this when he tries - just like so many other things.

He pulled himself out only just in time, spending on the blanket below them with a look of utter bliss on his face before he laid down, his half-done shirt strange against her chest. "Was it good, Iss?" he asked quietly, his tone teasing, nipping lightly at her ear, the endearment only he used light on his lips. "Have I been good?"

She turned her face back up to him, smiled and brushed the hair out of his eyes. What a power you've got, Iselde Cargyll. A prince in the palm of your hand. "Very," she said, still thinking about treason, about secrets she shouldn't have heard and still needed to keep.

[alicentive]

Hey, prompting "things you said" 20 (to comfort me) for Naera please? (I hope that's 20 anyway, I'm on mobile and have immediately forgotten).

This was a fun prompt - it made me think for a while about who to put in a scene with Naera, who isn't the type of person who needs comfort herself.

The air was freeing, up here on the cliffs.

The Dragonpit in King's Landing housed dragons, to be sure, but it also hid them, keeping the creatures away from a city that would never quite understand them. Here on Dragonstone there was no need to hide. The beasts had free rein of all of the high places here on the island, the caves and crags providing as much nesting space and breeding ground as they had need of, able to roam and eat to their hearts' content.

It had been wild and desolate here, as a child - Naera remembered coming here with her teachers and finding very little beauty in the place. But as an adult her eye could find the little nesting flowers called dragonmane, and follow the way the lichens clung to the rocks. If she closed her eyes, and breathed, she knew that she, too, had no need to hide here, either.

She'd been told that sometimes the young dragons nested at this outcrop, and she was hoping to see one or another of them today. Since the unfortunate business with Aemond's eye, Rhaenyra's sons had not come to King's Landing, and their dragons now were strangers to her. Syrax, too, she hoped to see, but the keepers here said she was broody now, as the Princess was, and likely to be in the Dragonmount's deeper caves.

Her winter robe was serving quite well, to keep away the worse of the wind, rucked up around her head so that her body wouldn't lose its warmth to the rock ledge on which she sat. It was quiet, out here, with only the wind - but she was starting to hear an voice, from somewhere down the path - a young man, speaking in very, very bad Valyrian.

He rounded the corner, and Naera recognized him for one of Rhaenyra's sons- the eldest, to judge by his height. Jacaerys, who rode Vermax. She could just barely remember the party the keepers had thrown when he was born, and the egg that had been lain in his cradle had properly hatched. A son! A son for the little princess! They'd lit fires and offered incense and the palace cooks sent down little shaped sugar dragons, the leftovers from the naming feast, the taste of cinnamon like fire on her tongue.

The princess had hardly been little then- and her son was hardly little now. The child she remembered from lessons in the Dragonpit was a young man, still growing into his shoulders, his hair an untidy mess. He was reciting something to himself - language lessons, to judge by the sound of it. Naera edged away from the wall, bringing herself into better view so she wouldn't completely surprise him - if he ever stopped to look, that is.

He was pacing a little, back and forth across the footpath, trying to make sense of a phrase. "Jahos - no, that's not righ. Jaehossa. Jaehossa itympta daor."

Naeara couldn't help but wince a little at the wrong verb tense. "Itymagon, my prince. Jaehossa itymagon daor." Don't play games with the gods. A strange choice for lessons, even if it is true.

Jacaerys turned quickly on his heel, anxious to see who he'd inadvertently turned into an audience. His eyes narrowed a little, suspicious as anything, though her robes and shaved head spoke for themselves about what she was doing here. He stood up a little straighter and tried to salvage some dignity. "You're new here. I don't know your face."

"Naera, my prince. Visiting from King's Landing. I used to help Aemar with your lessons in the Dragonpit."

He stared a while longer, though it was clear he still didn't remember. But the mention of Aemar's name seemed to help - that, at least, was a name he knew.

"You keepers swear oaths, don't you? To House Targaryen?"

Naera knew at once what he was asking. "To keep their secrets, yes, my prince. Of course." A dragon remembers - but a keeper is silent with it.

That seemed to placate him, and he relaxed a little. "Did you hear all of that, then?"

"Some, my prince."

He looked away and kicked at a small rock on the ground. "I suppose you think I'm rather silly, bumbling my lessons. I know Stepfather does. A true Targaryen would speak better by now. I'm sure my uncles are fluent."

"Prince Aegon hardly speaks it at all," Naera reported, trying to keep the judgement out of her voice. He can't be bothered with any lesson that's not in the bottom of a bottle or the flat of a fist. But she heard, too, the guilt in Jacaerys' admission, the longing where he said 'true' - dark-haired where his mother and all her line were fair, and dark-eyed where Velaryons were blue. She knew the gossip just as well as anyone else, though it mattered fairly little in the keeper's hall. Can the boy call his dragon? someone had asked. We need no other proofs than that.

Alicent's sons would not have spoken kindly to a keeper, either, she thought to herself, remembering Daemon's kind words to Maekar at the harbor. To them I'm but a servant, but a true Targaryen knows my worth.

She decided to say something. "If the prince will permit me - when the keepers speak of dragons, my prince, we say only who laid the egg. It is the only thing we ever know for certain, the only truth we need. Among the keepers I am only Tynara's daughter."

"And you know who laid my egg," Jacaerys said, his tone somewhat accusatory. "That I am Rhaenyra's son."

Naera nodded. "Just so, my prince. We keepers need no other proofs that that, to be a… true Targaryen." She rose from her seat and made a bow. "My apologies for my interruptions. I will leave you to your lessons."

"Vermax nests up here, you know," he added, as an afterthought. She turned and looked back down the path. "I often come and …practice with him."

Naera nodded. "That is very good, my prince. He will know your voice better, then."

The prince smiled, a little, and Naera made another bow of farewell, rearranging the folds of her robe as she made her way down the path. Dragons are not made for cities - they're for places like this. And so, it seems, are you, Jacaerys Rhaenyra's son. No one told you to come here, and yet here you are.

[alicentive]

Author: @in-a-mountain-pool | Artist: @cyeco13

Title: The Dragon Boy | Category: F/M | Rating: Teen. | Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: Angst.

Summary: Chaos unfolds after the battle at the Gods Eye. After his defeat, Prince Aemond Targaryen is declared dead, laying at the bottom of the great lake. Upon hearing the news, Kaelys Waters, a Dragonseed from Aemond’s past defects from the Blacks, and stumbles upon a mysterious enigmatic dragon with a broken wing. Tending to its wounds and reminiscing of her childhood infatuation, she mourns the passing of the Prince Regent. Love deepens amid a whirlwind of emotions, culminating in a heart-warming tale of love transcending magic and curses, uniting two souls against all odds.

Read the full story on AO3.

Created as part of the House of the Dragon Big Bang '23 event on @hotd-bigbang

[alicentive]

the color violet never seemed to glow (until i saw it in your eyes)

Chapter One: fly with me Art by: @ewanmitchellcrumbs Pairing: Alicent/Rhaenyra (Rhaenicent), Laenor/Joffrey Lonmouth (mentioned) Rating: mature Tags & Warnings: alternate universe - 1980s, fluff and smut, angst and humor, period-typical homophobia, body dysmorphia, declarations of love, drinking Word Count: 6,460 AO3: link

Summary: (King's Landing, Westeros, August 1986). Alicent was devastated when Rhaenyra first told her she was moving to the Vale to attend university. So to try and cheer her friend up, Rhaenyra promised to make this the best summer ever. She doted on Alicent, treating her to any and every activity that crossed her mind. But as the date of Rhaenyra’s departure approached, Alicent couldn't help but sink into a depression. She struggled to admit the thoughts that plagued her whole existence: she was in love with Rhaenyra. Perhaps on their final outing together, during all the shopping, eating, sunbathing, drinking, and dancing, she will be brave and say what's always been on her mind. But unbeknownst to her, Rhaenyra has the same idea.

Notes: this is my submission for @hotd-bigbang. and a special thank you to ewanmitchellcrumbs for the header, moodboard, dividers, and for organizing this event so wonderfully!! this was my first big bang and it won’t be my last. it’s been such a fantastic experience. thank you again ewanmitchellcrumbs and it’s been so great working with you!

anyway, thanks for reading! this was initially a one-shot but it grew too long for my liking so i’ve decided to split it up into two chapters (or perhaps more but don’t hold me to that!) chapter two will be posted at a later date, hopefully sooner rather than later.

    The Vale.  

   Once a place that rarely crossed her mind now burrows into her every waking thought.  She hates the Vale.  Rather, she hates what it will take from her.  Stealing away the most prized person in her life and keeping her behind its walls was a worthy enough reason to hate anything.  She thinks about the people there, and she hates them, too.  She hates all the new individuals who threaten to invade her friend's life.  She can’t help but think of those who will replace everyone she had here in King's Landing.  A new friend group, a new boy toy, and worst of all, a new best friend.  Everything Alicent knows and lives will be nothing but a distant memory to Rhaenyra.  Fragments of an old life.  Despite her moping, Alicent accepts nothing stays the same forever.  It’s life’s impossibility.  Change is inevitable.  But truthfully, what nineteen-year-old understands that?  It’s silly to blame a location for her distress, she knows, but Alicent needs something to take the brunt of her frustration.  It helps to focus her attention on the wrong thing, or so she believes it does.  She convinces herself it’s easier to despise a place that means little to her than to despise her friend's choices.  Or worse, to despise her friend herself. 

   She’s lying on her back atop her bed’s grey-green duvet.  Her ankles are crossed and her fingers are laced together resting limply on her stomach.  Her steady breathing conceals the torrent of thoughts racing behind her eyes.  The shades are drawn, keeping the otherwise cheerful room as dark as her mood.  

   Alicent grimaces.

   What kind of person would she be if she hated Rhaenyra for pursuing her dreams and goals in life?  As her best friend, she should support her in all her endeavors.  Even if it hurts.  Rhaenyra wants to attend the same university as her mother.  So, what?   Alicent understands the need to feel close again to one’s late mother if nothing else.  

   Alicent hadn’t seen her mother in four years before her sudden illness last year.  Her father had split up the family when he took up his current job working alongside Rhaenyra’s father in the capital.  At his insistence, Alicent and her brothers came to live in King’s Landing to study and make important connections to aid their careers.  Grayce, however, refused to move and remained in Oldtown with her brother-in-law, Hobert, and his sweet wife with whom she was close.  Otto and Viserys had been friends for longer than either were married but it still shocked the whole family when he chose Viserys over Grayce.  

   Alicent wishes she asked her mother why she stayed behind.  Four years is a long time to spend away from your husband and your children.  Why not come?  Father avoids the question when I ask , she thinks, I doubt I’ll ever know why now .  

   Yet though it seemed their marriage was strained for reasons unaddressed, Alicent watched her father become ever-dutiful and caring for his wife when she fell ill.  Alicent, her brothers, and her father flew back to Oldtown the second they found out Grayce was sick.  They lived at the hospital and Hobert’s home for nearly a full year.  Grayce’s funeral was attended by hundreds of mourners from both the Hightower and Redwyne families.  Alicent and her siblings stayed under their uncle’s roof for another week after Grayce’s passing before flying home to King’s Landing.  It still surprises Alicent that they lasted that long.  Otto had grown noticeably aimless and restless following the funeral, annoying his brother, his sister-in-law, his nieces and nephews, everyone.  Gwayne later told her he suspected that their father disliked being around the family without being the center of attention, but Alicent, at the time, just believed he struggled to express his grief properly.  Losing a mother was hard enough, she couldn’t imagine losing a life partner, the second half of one’s being.

   " Allie, door! " her brother calls from downstairs.  

   She glances at the alarm clock to her right on her bedside table.  Half nine , it reads.  She’s late, as usual .  But Alicent doesn’t care.  She never does.  Not on the first day of summer or today, the last.  Rhaenyra promised to make this the best summer ever, and so far, it had been just that.  Yet the thought of it ending lingered in the back of Alicent's mind the whole time, spoiling even the best moments.  She’ll never let Nyra know though.  She knows her friend feels guilty enough about moving away and she doesn’t want to make it worse on either of them.  They avoid the subject. 

   "Be down in a second!" she shouts.  She hears her brother respond but can’t make out what he said.  Not that it matters.  Gwayne makes snide comments all the time, and they’re so often meaningless.  She checks herself out in the mirror on the back of her door, never one to leave the house unmade or underdressed.  She brushes the wrinkles out of her light jean shorts and straightens her loose, sleeveless white top.  Her crimped auburn hair is full and teased out.  It’s almost hard to the touch from the layers and layers of hairspray, just the way she likes it.  She grabs a couple of makeup products from her organized desktop and returns to the mirror, leaning almost close enough to brush her nose against it.  She quickly slathers her favorite shade of pink lipstick over her lips.  Next, she applies a modest amount of black mascara to her lashes, gently accentuating their natural length.  Father hates if I wear too much makeup… or any , she thinks as she stares at her reflection.  At least he’s not here to see it .  She looks down at her hands and frowns.  The skin around her fingers is red and angry, sporting more than a few scabs.  She used to wear nail polish to distract the eye but she couldn’t keep from picking at the pastel colors.  She grew tired of reapplying the polish day after day, so she stopped.  Her picking has never been worse, never been so obvious.  She hopes Rhaenyra doesn’t mention it.  

   Alicent snatches her crossbody purse from the hook by her door and all but runs downstairs.  She expects to find her friend inside by the backdoor, like usual, but when she gets there, nobody is there.  Garage .  Rhaenyra never knocks at the front door, not since it got Alicent in trouble for ‘bothering’ her father.  Father hates it when Rhaenyra stops by unannounced, or even when it’s planned.  Despite Rhaenyra’s father being his best, if not only friend, Otto disliked her.  It seems she was ever the thorn in his side, much to the confusion of both girls.  He refused to elaborate on his distaste for Rhaenyra no matter how often Alicent would ask.  So, the two girls agreed to keep their rendezvous and plans hidden from Otto.  Alicent only ever tells her Gwayne, the only brother who still lives with her, where she is going and who she is going with (it’s always Rhaenyra).  

   Alicent turns from the back door and crosses the house to the kitchen.  She finds Gwayne sitting at the kitchen island, a math textbook and notebook splayed open before him.  Across the room is the door leading to the garage, cracked open just a hair.

   Without looking up, he says, "Father won't be home until late again.  Make sure you're back before then ‘cause I can’t cover for you."  She nods, knowing Gwayne has plans to see his girlfriend that night.  Alicent turns to leave but Gwayne speaks up again.  "Hey."  She looks back at him, her hand on the garage door handle.

   "Yeah?"

   "Have fun."

   "Thanks," Alicent says, flashing a soft grin.  “You, too.”  She pushes the door aside and sees Rhaenyra leaning casually against her bike, parked inside the open garage.  With her back to Alicent, she doesn’t immediately acknowledge her presence.  Her friend’s eyes are locked on the empty driveway and road.  Alicent smiles as she regards Rhaenyra.  Ever the rebel, she wears a bulky leather jacket over an all too familiar, clearly favored purple tube top romper.  Her long silver-gold hair runs down her jacket like a calm waterfall.  She cradles a black helmet under her left arm and rests her dominant hand on top of a secondary helmet sitting on the motorcycle’s seat. 

   “Does it work now?” Alicent asks as she closes the door behind her, breaking the silence and announcing herself.  Rhaenyra whips around, grinning. 

   "Of course.  I made it here didn’t I?” 

   “You made it all the way to Harwin’s last time, too.”  Rhaenyra flushed, playfully rolling her eyes.

   “Daemon helped me fix it up after it broke down.  It's not gonna fall apart again."  She glanced at the yellow motorcycle and made a face.  "Probably.  Anyway, let's go."  She jumps away from her bike, dropping the helmet beside the other, and takes Alicent’s hands in her own.  "Fly with me," she says, a fox-like smirk pulling at the left corner of her mouth.  Mischief flickers in her violet eyes.  

   "Why is it such a secret this time, Rhaenyra?  What have you planned?"  

   "And spoil everything?  You trust me, right?"

   "Yes, of course I do..."

   "So, hop on."  Rhaenyra pulls Alicent to the motorcycle and drops her hands.  She swings a leg over the seat and plops down onto the fabric seat.  She yanks one of the helmets down over her head and holds out the second for Alicent.  Alicent takes the helmet, puts it on, and sits behind Rhaenyra.  The seat isn’t the largest, but neither of the girls is particularly big.  They fit, but just barely.  Alicent clasps her hands together around her friend’s waist as Rhaenyra fires up the engine.  She held onto Rhaenyra a little tighter than was necessary, but Rhaenyra didn’t complain.  Alicent hates motorcycles, especially this beat-up old thing, but Rhaenyra was proud of her tinkering skills.  So, she ignores her fears.  If it makes Nyra happy, it makes her happy ( it gives her an excuse to hold on to Rhaenyra ).

   Rhaenyra speeds out of the garage and barrels down Alicent's neighborhood street.  Anxious, Alicent leans her body against Nyra for support.  She can’t help but close her eyes as they drive through the claustrophobic streets of King's Landing.  She feels the wind tugging at her hair, the red mess flying behind her like a flag.  Her hairspray fights back as best it can, but she knows the style is ruined.  Oh, well .  It isn’t something she didn’t anticipate.  Rhaenyra’s antics have ruined more than a few hairdos and outfits.  What’s one more?   

   Alicent feels Rhaenyra steering them further and further south, and then the realization comes to her.  She knows exactly where they are going even without looking.  She had lived here long enough.  If she wasn't so terrified, she would smile.  

    A day at the beach, so it is , she thinks when they finally stop.  Rhaenyra had parked along a residential street behind the Conqueror's Boardwalk, sandwiching them in between a gold sedan and a black SUV.  The girls dismount and Alicent looks around at the buildings lining the boardwalk.  She spies countless other people walking about in their swimsuits, coverups, and regular day clothes.  It’s a superbly pleasant day to Alicent.  There isn’t a cloud in the sky but a cool ocean breeze offers some relief from the summer heat.    

   “The beach then?” Alicent asks, giggling softly.  “Why was this a secret?”

   “It’s not just the beach.”

   “What else?” 

   “You’ll see,” Rhaenyra says, flashing a white grin.  “Let’s go!”  And without another word, she dashes off towards the boardwalk.  

   “Wait, Nyra!” Alicent calls after her, jogging after her as quickly as she can.

   “Come on!  Hurry up!”  

   “I’m trying!”  She struggles to keep up since running isn’t her strong suit.  Westerosi people don’t exercise as much as they should.  When she catches up, she finds Rhaenyra waiting outside a cute shop on the boardwalk.  Just Seahorsing Around , reads the sign above the building.  Seahorse decals cover the windows, accompanying numerous more seahorse puns.  She can’t help but smile at the ridiculous place.  From the exterior, she isn’t sure what they sell inside.  Aside from jokes, anyway.  Her friend, however, seems familiar with the shop.  Just as Alicent opens her mouth to ask, Rhaenyra takes Alicent by the wrist and guides her inside the store.

   Though a modest building size, she can’t say the owners don’t utilize the space efficiently.  She eyes the circular racks at the front stuffed with hanging bathing suits of all shapes, sizes, and colors.  Flip-flops, beach bags, coolers, towels, sunscreen lotion, umbrellas, volleyballs, and sandcastle toys for little ones occupy the numerous free-standing shelves and display tables that dot the floor.  By the register, there are various snacks like bagged chips, soda, fruity hard candy, and individually wrapped Twinkies for customers.  She notes that they don’t sell anything that can significantly melt in the summer heat like chocolates and cold treats.  It was anything and everything a beachgoer could possibly want, and Alicent was almost awestruck.   

   “We’ll obviously need to change,” Rhaenyra says, still pulling Alicent along as if worrying she might get lost in the store.  “Unless you prefer your underwear.”  She winks with an open smile.  

   “No!” Alicent says.  “How absurd!”  She giggles as she pictures herself wading in the ocean water in her bra and panties.  “You know, I have a perfectly good bathing suit at home I could have brought?”  

   “That old blue and cream thing?  Nah, you desperately need something new.  Something from this decade.”  Rhaenyra drops Alicent’s arm and stops at a large rack packed with countless hanging suits, one and two-piece alike.

   “It’s only two years old,” Alicent says.

   “Whatever.  It screams Yucksville ‘75, dude.  Now,” Rhaenyra says as she begins fingering through the available options, “treat yourself to 1986.  See, now these are bitchin’.”  She pulls out two hangers and grins.  “Here, hold these a sec’,” she says, shoving the swimsuits at Alicent.  She returns her attention to the rack and grabs a few more choices.  Rhaenyra looks around the store and says, “Ah!” when she spots a changing area at the back.  “I’m gonna try these on real quick.”  Alicent hands back the suits and watches her practically skip into one of the changing room stalls.  

   She laughs to herself and begins to skim through the rack herself.  She wants something that isn’t too revealing nor too prudish like her old blue one-piece.  Yet, she has trouble finding the one .  She isn’t as confident in her body as Rhaenyra is with her perfect figure and curves in all the right places.  Alicent is stick-thin by comparison.  She worries that her bones are too visible, that her veins show through her skin too much, that she’s too tall, and other such silly things.  Still, she wants to be confident in front of her friend.  Even if she has to pretend.  She shakes her head.  She’s supposed to enjoy this day, the last day she’ll have with Rhaenyra, and she can’t let body image issues take any enjoyment away from her.  

   Alicent picks out three different swimsuits, three she would never normally wear.  She thinks they would look stunning on Rhaenyra, so why not on her, too?  

   “So, what do you think?”  Alicent didn’t hear Rhaenyra behind her until she spoke.  She turns around to see Rhaenyra posing in one of the suits, barefoot.  She is holding one hand on her hip while the other frames one side of her round face.  Her grin is infectious as she shows off a deep red bikini with high-cut bottoms and a twisted bandeau top.  Of course, that’s what she picked .  

   “I think it’s very you.”  Rhaenyra’s brows shoot up and her grin widens.

   “Good, ‘cause this is what I liked best.”  Rhaenyra’s eyes drift to the swimsuits Alicent had draped over one arm.  “Those look cute,” she says, that mischievous sparkle returning to her eyes.  Before she says anything, Rhaenyra once more attaches herself to Alicent.  Still grinning, she pulls them over to the changing rooms.  Rhaenyra opens a stall and squeezes the both of them inside, latching the thin wooden door behind her.  Alicent doesn’t protest, at least, not much.  

   “Won’t we get in trouble?” Alicent whispers.

   “For what?  We’re not doing anything.  Mothers take their little kiddos in with them all the time, what’s the harm?”  She thinks about mentioning that they are two fully grown girls, not a mother-and-daughter duo, but she gives up.  Although Alicent trembles at the mere thought of getting in trouble with authority, Rhaenyra has an oddly calming effect on her.  If she knows about that power, Alicent thinks she could encourage her to do anything she wants.  Hmph, perhaps she already does , she thinks, looking at her friend in the stall with her.  She’s a terrible influence but I wouldn’t change a thing .

   “Fine, I hope you’re right.”  She’ll keep her voice down all the same.  Alicent slings the swimsuits over the top of the door as there are no hooks or anywhere to sit in the tiny stall.  

   Despite her personal issues with her body, she never is shy to change in front of Rhaenyra.  Perhaps she’s a little coy, but Nyra doesn’t have anything different… down there .  She’s seen her friend naked more times than she can count, and vice versa.  Flesh is flesh.  Alicent shrugs off her white blouse, kicks off her black flats, and steps out of her jeans.  She throws the clothes over the door before unclasping her bra and pulling down her panties.  Rhaenyra offers to hold them instead of adding them to the crowd of clothing.  Alicent thanks her, handing them over, and takes one of the suits down to try on.  

   She looks at herself in the mirror hanging on the back wall and huffs.  It’s not to her liking.  Rhaenyra agrees, so Alicent tries the second one on.  She likes it better, but the bottom sags and makes her butt look strange.  Not an ideal look.  She grabs the third which, out of the three, is far superior.  The flounced top and skirted bottom suit her more girlish style while highlighting her bosom and ass.  She loves the rich green shade against her pale skin.  She shakes her head, raking her fingers through her hair to bring it all forward over her shoulders.  Rhaenyra peers into the mirror from behind Alicent, smirking.  

   “I have an idea,” she says.  “Switch tops with me.”

   “Why?”

   “We’ll match.  Or we’ll mismatch together.  C’mon, please?”  Rhaenyra pouts, batting her long white lashes at Alicent.  As always, she can’t seem to say no.  Alicent signs and pulls off her top, Rhaenyra doing the same.  They swap and admire themselves in the mirror, Rhaenyra wearing green up top and red on the bottom and Alicent the reverse.  Rhaenyra shakes her breasts back and forth, making the flounced top flutter.  Alicent feels her cheeks warming and averts her eyes to her own chest.  The red top flatters her figure as well as the other, but the cut wasn’t something she would choose herself.  The top threatens to slip down to her waist any minute.  At least, that’s how it feels.  It isn’t as tight and secure as the tops she typically wears.  Father would despise me in this , she thinks.  And suddenly a thought comes to her.  She wonders if it’s always been her father’s voice in her head that says unflattering and negative things about her body.  Bravely, she pushes the negativity aside.  Father would never allow me to wear this .  But he isn’t here .  She looks at her pink lips and black eyelashes, and a soft smile comes to her mouth.  What harm is one more little secret?   She sighs, pulling the top up as far as she can without showing the underside of her breasts.  But she’ll make do if it makes her friend happy.  And she does seem so happy.  

   They gather up the rejected suits and their clothes then exit the changing room in their new swimsuits.  Alicent tries her best to look inconspicuous while Rhaenyra does not care either way.  Both are barefoot as they carry their shoes in one hand with their outfits resting over an arm. 

   “We just need a few more things,” Rhaenyra says, “then we can properly enjoy ourselves.”  I’m already enjoying myself plenty , Alicent thinks, just being with you .  She nods and follows as Rhaenyra approaches a long shelving unit that almost runs the whole length of the store.  They each pick out a cheap towel and a pair of flip-flops before heading to the front where they browse a rack of sunglasses.  Rhaenyra chooses a pair of traditional black aviators but Alicent picks a gold-framed pair with thin, pink rectangle lenses.  They aren’t ideal for fighting off the sunlight, however, they are simply too cute to resist.   

   “Any snacks?” Rhaenyra says as they near the cashier’s counter.  Alicent glances at the options again and shakes her head.  

   “I should limit my bad habits,” she answers, eyeing the chips and soda.  They each place their towels, flip-flops, and glasses on the counter.  The cashier welcomes them and begins calculating their items on the cash register.  They take turns showing the tags on their swimwear for him to total as well.  He’s a tall boy around their age, in his mid-teens Alicent guesses.  He has silver dreadlocks that dust the shoulders of his teal t-shirt and an otherwise dark complexion.  He smells both spicy and sweet, like gardenias or freshly cut grass.  He’s nothing like the average beach bum, looking out of place and uncomfortable behind the store’s counter.  She senses a longing from him.  He’s familiar to her but she can’t place where they might have met before.  School, probably.  Her eyes lock on the lanyard around his neck clasping a white name card that reads Laenor .  Hm .

   “Y’know, if you’re hungry, there’s an ice cream shop a little way down the boardwalk,” Laenor suggests. His voice is calm and quiet; Alicent has to stain her ears just to hear him.  “Just head towards the pier and you’ll see it on the way.  Wylde Flavors.  They specialize in all sorts of unique tastes… if you’re interested in that kinda thing.”  The girls shoot each other a look before Rhaenyra tells him that sounds like a fine idea.  She thanks him and flashes a tight smile.  “Need a bag?”  Rhaenyra nods her head, avoiding eye contact as she takes a tote bag from Laenor.  He smiles awkwardly in return as she packs their towels, her romper, jacket, and shoes inside.  Alicent shoves her own clothes in the bag and puts on her pair of flip-flops.  Fiddling with her sunglasses, she looks back and forth between the other two, her brows furrowing.  What’s their damage?   

   “So,” Rhaenyra says after clearing her throat, “how’s Laena doing?”

   “Oh, she’s fine, yeah.  Fine, she’s good.  She’s been, uh, overseas all summer but she calls me every night.”

   “Yeah?  What’s she doing over…?”

   “Um, in Pentos, yeah.  It’s some horse racing thing.  She competes now.  Her mare is this beast of a thing.  Scares Papa but you know how he dotes on her.”  Rhaenyra nods.

   “I remember her saying something about wanting to own a horse a few times,” Rhaenyra says with a genuine smile.  “Glad she’s doing that for herself.”

   “Yeah, yeah, we’re all very proud of her.”

   “I expect she’ll be bringing the gold home.”

   “Without a doubt, yeah.  She’d spend all day every day on that horse if she could.”

   “When does she come back home?”

   “Oh, uh, two weeks from Thursday?”

   “Nice.  Well, give my love to her and hope you’re doing good, too.”

   “I am, yeah, thanks.”

   “Good!  Good.  See you ‘round then.”  Rhaenyra throws the tote back over a shoulder, slides on her flip-flops and glasses, and takes Alicent by the arm.  Laenor waves goodbye to Alicent as Rhaenyra all but drags her outside.  All she can do is offer a confused expression in return before.  

   Sunlight splashes off Rhaenyra’s pale skin as they stand on the busy boardwalk, half-blinding Alicent.  She breaks away from her friend’s grasp with a jerk of her arm.  Rhaenyra turns back and Alicent says with a short laugh,    

   “What the hell was all that?”  She poses the question in a friendly way but doesn’t hide her bewilderment from the odd interaction.  She had never seen such an awkward, stiff conversation from Rhaenyra before.  

   “We… dated for a couple of months,” Rhaenyra admits.  “But it wasn’t a serious thing.”  

   “What, when was this?”  Rhaenyra tells me everything .  Why would she keep him a secret?  

   “While you were back in Oldtown.”  Oh .  Alicent’s expression sours.  Mama .  She feels a knot forming in her stomach, weighing her down as her thoughts put words in Rhaenyra’s mouth.  She wants to puke.    

   “Why didn’t you mention it when I came back?  Boyfriends are usually worth mentioning,” she says.  The friendliness is notably gone from her tone now.  

   “I don’t know… Slipped my mind?”  Alicent gives her a disbelieving expression, tilting her head.  Rhaenyra sighs.  “He’s a nice boy and we were hanging out a lot anyway; his dad is friends with mine, yeah?  I thought there was a spark, but… we weren’t the fit I thought we were.”  

   “That’s it?”  It can’t be.  A flurry of images crosses her mind and she shivers with disgust.  She pictures Laenor’s soft hands all over Rhaenyra, and hers on him.  Their lips touching, her head resting on his chest.  I can’t stand to think of you in the arms of anyone else.  To think their fingers brushed against your flawless skin and got tangled in your white hair, it’s torture.  Boys always lick their lips like hungry beasts when they look at you.  But you’re more than a lamb to the slaughter to me.  I wish you’d take me, feed me, eat me .  Rhaenyra looks ashamed, embarrassed, and a different thought grows in Alicent’s mind.  Did he hurt her?   But before she could ponder it anymore, Rhaenyra speaks up.

   “He’s… a queer, all right?  I realized maybe two months in that he was in love with his ‘best friend’ and not me.  I wasn’t going to be his beard.  It wasn’t fair to me and it’s not fair to him.”

   “I see,” Alicent says, relief washing over her in an instant.  “That was probably the best thing.”  

   “Yeah,” Rhaenyra says.  “Don’t, like, tell people.  He really is a nice boy and I’m not sure he’s… comfortable with himself yet.  It’s not exactly cool to be like that, y’know?”  Yeah, I know .  

   “My lips are sealed.”  Alicent pinches two fingers together and drags them across her lips.  Changing the topic, she says, “So how about that ice cream place?”  Rhaenyra brightens in an instant.

   “It’s a brilliant idea for such a hot day!  Come.”  And with that, Rhaenyra has her hand around Alicent’s wrist again and pulls her along.  There’s something desperate in the way Rhaenyra clings to Alicent. 

   Laenor had been right, the ice cream shop wasn’t terribly far away.  But although Alicent expected to stop in a similar-sized building to Just Seahorsing Around, they instead find themselves at a small stand on the boardwalk.  An older woman greets them, telling them to take their time deciding what they want.  The girls thank her.  Alicent squints at the stand’s menu, frowning as she reads through the ‘unique’ options.  Peanut butter and chocolate chip?  Mint pistachio?  Cookies and cream and strawberry?  Lazy creativity, she thinks.  She glances at Rhaenyra who seems more delighted with the choices.  She rolls her eyes, smiling.  At least there are still normal flavors for me.  

   After a few minutes, Alicent orders a medium cup of regular mint chocolate chip.  She thanks the woman again when she is handed the food and a plastic spoon.  Rhaenyra hums, still eyeing the menu as Alicent takes a small bite.  It’s frigid!   She nearly spits her bite out, worrying it will aggravate her sensitive molar.  She holds the bite on her tongue, letting it melt and run down her throat.  I’ll let it warm a little before I have another bite, she thinks.

   “I’ll have, uh, a peanut butter— wait, no.  How about a… Actually, just a double scoop of the cookie dough.  In a waffle cone, please,” Rhaenyra says.

   “Sure thing, kiddo,” the woman replies.  She passes the cone to Rhaenyra and plops two generous scoops of ice cream on top.  They pay separately and walk further down the boardwalk.  Their chatter is nothing special.  

Did you hear the Triarchy’s new song?  

Yeah!  It was on the radio last night.  Even Gwayne said he liked it.  

It was bitchin’.  I wish Whyte Wyrm would come around, I’d kill to see ‘em live.

Maybe I’ll visit and take you to the concert when they come to the Vale.

I’d love that.  

   As they talk, Rhaenyra begins to scout out an area on the beach for them to set up.  Their arms are interlocked, the two girls now walking side-by-side without care in the world.  All the morose thoughts, all the negativity, had vanished.  She’s in a true state of bliss… until she hears it.  Alicent’s chest tightens as a wolf whistle pierces through the air behind them.  She wishes she could drop her food and cover herself up.  She wants to run away and hide from predatory eyes.  She never shows so much of her body, she knows it was a mistake.  

   As if sensing Alicent’s distress, or acting out of her own fury, Rhaenyra whips around to face the whistler.

   “Hey!” Nyra shouts.  Alicent musters up the courage to look back, too.  She’s shocked to see two boys significantly younger than herself perched on the wooden rail of the boardwalk.  Their backs are to the beach, feet swinging below them.  They are an odd couple, to be sure.  She first eyes the one with dark, greased-back hair and a yellow button-down shirt.  He is a large person, comically so compared to his friend.  His friend, the closer of the two and the whistler if his smirk was any giveaway, is easily a third of his weight.  He had sandy hair that was in desperate need of trimming as the bangs were more like curtains for his eyes.  Neither looks old enough to be in high school, but people seem to retain their youth longer nowadays.  Gwayne is almost seventeen, she thinks, and he still has baby fat in his cheeks.  Regardless of their age, they’re too young to be acting like creepy old men.  

   Rhaenyra smirks at Alicent, mischief sparkling in her eyes yet again, and chucks her ice cream cone at the closest boy.  It hits him square in the face, covering his face, hair, and the collar of his tee.  Ice cream drips from his bangs onto his pants and shoes.  He blinks through the food before wiping the rest out of his eyes.  Alicent’s mouth drops open as the second boy guffaws, slapping his friend’s back.  The first boy, his clothes now saturated in Rhaenyra’s frozen treat, growls at the other.  He lunges for the dark-haired boy, tackling him to the ground.  Alicent watches as he drives his fists into his gut over and over again.  Left, right .  Left, right .  Left, right .  The boy on the ground tries his best to block the hits with his arms, grunting as he fights off his small attacker.  She can’t help but compare them to a pissed-off Chihuahua on top of an adult Pittie.

   “Willie, knock it off!  Willie!  Stop!” the bigger boy says between punches.

   “Don’t call me Willie, Jerry !”

   “Fuck you!  You know that’s my dog’s name!”  

   “Aw, named after the dog, boo hoo hoo.”

    Rhaenyra cackles, invariably proud of the chaos she causes.  She takes Alicent’s wrist and draws her away from the ridiculous scene.  They jump off the boardwalk, landing on the sand of the crowded beach.  Rhaenyra doesn’t let go until they find a spot far enough away that neither girl can still see the boys.

   Giggling, Alicent says, “I can’t believe you did that!”

   “Can’t you?”  Her smile falters a bit, seeing a strange glint in Rhaenyra’s violet eyes.  She pushes the subconscious question aside and laughs again.

   “Of course.  It would be unlike you not to cause a mess.”  The strangeness vanishes from her friend’s features as she laughs.  “But now you’ve wasted your ice cream.”

   “It’s all right,” Rhaenyra says, but Alicent knows Rhaenyra wanted the food more than she did.

   “Here.”  Alicent holds out her cup.  “I’ve got more than I can eat.”  Rhaenyra grabs the spoon and takes a modest bite. “Have more than that,” Alicent says with a small laugh.  They take turns with the spoon, Alicent eating much less than her friend.  Before long the girls empty the paper cup, both satisfied.  Alicent tosses the trash in a nearby garbage can like she had seen the guys at high school practice do a thousand times before.  Rhaenyra holds up ten fingers. 

   “A perfect score!” she says.

   “You’re not playing favorites, are you?” Alicent asks with a smug grin.

   “Absolutely not.  I can’t help that the cutest player is also the best.”  Another smile.  Rhaenyra suggests they find a spot on the beach to sunbathe for a while.  As they start scouting, Alicent stops.  

   “Shit.”

   “What?”

   “We forgot to buy sunscreen.  I’ll run back —”

   “Nah, we don’t need it.”   

   “You sure?”

   “Fire cannot kill a dragon.”  Rhaenyra winks.  But I’m not a dragon, Alicent thinks.  Rhaenyra touches her arm, turns, and takes off further down the beach.  Sand kicks up behind her feet like fireworks.  “C’mon!” she calls back.  Alicent watches the sunlight bounce off Rhaenyra’s blonde hair as it dances after her in the wind.  Such impossible beauty.   Her hair must be spun from a spool of silver-gold thread.  Alicent shakes herself out of her daze and follows after Rhaenyra.  When she finally stops running, Alicent realizes how isolated they are.  She can’t see anybody else around, just the sand and the splashing waves.  It’s their private piece of land, for all intents and purposes.  She smiles.  

   “Here?” Rhaenyra asks.

   “Sure, why not?”  It’ll be nice to have the privacy , she thinks.  Rhaenyra drops the tote bag down on the ground and pulls out their towels.  Alicent takes her black and gold striped towel and lays it down over the hot sand.  Rhaenyra does the same, setting hers hardly an inch from Alicent’s.  Sitting down on the towel, she pops off her flip-flops and sets them next to her in the sand.  Both girls lie down on their backs, adjusting to achieve maximum comfort.  Alicent stretches her arms over her head, resting one arm on her forehead and the other on the towel.  She crosses one ankle over the other and steals a quick glance at Rhaenyra.  Her arms are lying still by her sides and her legs are positioned like thin, white mountains, knees to the sky.  Alicent closes her eyes, focusing on her breathing.  If she’s lucky, she’ll get a little nap.   

   She isn’t sure how much time has passed when Rhaenyra’s voice startles her awake.  

   “This is really pleasant,” Rhaenyra says with a sigh.  “We needed this.  It’s not too long now before I leave.”  Alicent’s eyes crack open and she moves her arms down beside her.

   “Do we have to think about you leaving?” she asks, her voice low.  My whole world will change when I can’t see you every day.

   “You’re right, it’s not a happy subject.”  Rhaenyra turns her head to look at Alicent.  “Hey, I’m sorry I brought it up.”  She goes quiet but only for a second.  “Want me to make it up to you?”

   “Is that not what today is?”  Rhaenyra smiles.

   “Partly,” she says as she rolls onto her side, propping her head up with an arm.  

   “Oh?  How else will you make it up to me?” Alicent asks, smirking.  

   “Like… this …”  Alicent feels Rhaenyra’s hand sneak across her bare stomach and slip under the hem of her swim bottoms.  She freezes and so does Nyra’s hand.  The two girls make eye contact, and a silent agreement is made.  Is this real? Alicent thinks as Rhaenyra’s middle finger glides over her soft, dry clit.  It rubs back and forth, massaging gently.  Alicent’s breathing starts to deepen and she speads her legs.  She watches her breasts rise and fall as Rhaenyra’s movements grow in intensity.  

   “I love a shaved pussy,” Rhaenyra says under her breath.  Her thumb rubs against the hairless mons venus as her index and middle finger continue to work Alicent’s swollen clit.  Moisture spreads over her lips and spills down her cheeks, collecting at the bottom of her swimsuit.  Never had she been so thankful for dark clothes before.  She can feel the burning pressure building inside of her, the heat promising an explosive orgasm.  Her right leg quivers and she rolls her hips as Rhaenyra plays her like an instrument.  She hears the panting and the moans coming from her own mouth.  Rhaenyra kisses her flat stomach and she cums.  

   If she could think coherently, she might have been embarrassed she came so quickly.  She might have worried someone might see them.  But she can’t think straight, not when it started and certainly not now.  Her head is empty as her body buzzes with pleasure.  Rhaenyra leaves another kiss on her stomach and pulls her hand out of Alicent’s swimsuit.  Nyra smiles, staring up at Alicent, and sucks on her fingers.  

   “Delicious,” she says.  Both giggle softly.  Alicent turns on her side to face Rhaenyra.  They stay like that for a time, Alicent isn’t sure how long, just looking at each other.  Rhaenyra’s violet eyes seem to glow, saying everything her mouth isn’t.  But what was the ultimate experience, the very thing Alicent secretly dreamed about every night, makes their situation that much harder.  Rhaenyra will leave for the Vale and leave Alicent behind.  She’ll cry and pray to see her at every possible opportunity.  Yet, it can’t soften the sting of separation.  

   Rhaenyra’s eyebrows press together.  “Hey,” she says.  “I hate to see you in this mood.  Why not liven up and party?  Just the two of us, right here.”

   “Okay,” Alicent agrees, smiling.  As long as she’s here, she knows Rhaenyra will care for her.  She has to treasure and make the most of the limited time they have left.  

   “I’m gonna get us some booze.”  Alicent nods and Rhaenyra takes off towards the boardwalk.  She lies back down on her towel, closes her eyes, and waits.