Archive of Our Own

                     And immediately

Rather than words comes the thought of high windows:

The sun-comprehending glass,

And beyond it, the deep blue air, that shows

Nothing, and is nowhere, and is endless. 

Philip Larkin, ‘High Windows’, High Windows (1974)

On a good day—and, come to think of it, on a bad day—Rhaenyra could be attracted to anyone. The postman, her Uber driver, Nick Clegg in some lights, her GP, a woman standing in front of her in the line at the bank; none were safe from a wandering and curious eye. That was where the whole problem started. 

“Tell me again,” said Laena. “Slowly. Like I’m a child.”

“I recognise the woman washing the windows at work,” Rhaenyra said, to her wine glass, as her cousin’s scrutiny was becoming unbearable.

“Because she washes your windows?” Laena replied, nonplussed.

“No,” Rhaenyra said. “Because she used to be our legal representation.”

“So she was a lawyer,” said Laena. “And now she’s washing windows.”

“Yes,” Rhaenyra said. There was the honking of police sirens that for a moment she worried might be issuing from inside her own head (‘Irrationally horny police! Hands where we can see ‘em!’). But—no. 

“Jace!” she called. “How many times do I have to tell you —”

“Sorry, sorry—”

“If I come in there and find the TV turned up any higher than—”

“Alright, I’m sorry, Mum—”

“For God’s sake,” Rhaenyra muttered, rubbing at her forehead. “That bloody video game—”

“Why is she washing windows?” Laena asked. 

“I don’t know,” Rhaenyra exclaimed. “That’s the whole —thing—”

“I thought the whole thing was that you fancied her.”

“I did not say that,” Rhaenyra said sharply, hoping that the colour she could feel creeping onto her cheeks was from the wine. 

“Don’t they have machines for that sort of thing, anyway?”

Yes, but machines couldn’t do what Alicent Hightower did, which included but was not limited to: washing the windows of Rhaenyra’s fourteenth floor office, looking beautiful, playing charades, distracting her from work, etcetera, etcetera. When Harwin died her therapist had suggested writing notes to him, which Rhaenyra found patently ridiculous and too time-consuming and so had done religiously for the past three years, typing emails before bed and sending them to his Gmail that for some reason no one had gotten to yet. It probably wasn’t healthy but she was still milking the young widowed mother of three thing and figured she could do whatever the hell she wanted. Since Alicent had started washing the windows of the office the emails had morphed rather rapidly from a weekly précis of how the boys were doing (Jace decided against Art A-Level, thank God; Joff front tooth GONE!!!!!!) to a transcript of interactions between her and her window-washer, all of which were either written or mimed. For example:

R.T. (on a tablet held up to window) ARE YOU ALICENT HIGHTOWER

A.H. (shrugs)

R.T. (still on tablet) I THOUGHT YOU WORKED AT OTTO’S LAW FIRM

A.H. (shrugs again)

R.T. (still on tablet) ARE YOU WASHING THE WINDOWS EVERY WEEK NOW?

A.H. (nods)

Pause as RT types, backspaces, types again.

R.T. (on tablet) WHY???????

Pause as AH is amused, then takes phone out and types on Notes app. 

A.H. (on phone) Why not? 

And then an attached note, like: I am sure that even you, from the grave, knowing all the secrets that the afterlife has given you, would not be able to comprehend why this woman went from earning at least £250K a year to washing windows.  

Or, later, once they got past the whole “why is she a window washer” thing: 

INT. RHAENYRA’S OFFICE — MORNING. 

A meeting is happening. 

DAEMON. Blah blah blah corporate things.

LYONEL. Blah blah numbers Rhaenyra?

ALICENT mimes: song, five words, FIRST WORD. “I”. 

RHAENYRA. Well, “I”. That’s easy. 

DAEMON. What?

RHAENYRA. Nothing. Please, um, continue.

Alicent mimes: SECOND WORD. Hand issuing forth from? Face? Mouth?  

RHAENYRA. See? Saw? Say!

LYONEL. Rhaenyra?

DAEMON. Are you having a stroke?

Alicent mimes: THIRD & FOURTH WORD. Does very well, but Rhaenyra can’t figure it out. Keeps pinching fingers together. 

RHAENYRA. Ooh! Ooooooh!

DAEMON. (Sighing) Rhaenyra…

RHAENYRA. One second. One second! 

DAEMON glances over at the window. ALICENT pretends she was washing it this whole time and not playing charades with the company CEO who is just now realising that the song was I SAY A LITTLE PRAYER; obviously, that’s clear, slam dunk for Alicent, take a bow. 

For the most part, Rhaenyra believed herself to be a reasonably competent CEO, which was saying something, since it hadn’t always been the case. She knew that springing up from one’s seat at the sight of a window-washer, no matter how talented they were at charades, was not exactly a display of sterling leadership skills. But in recent weeks she had not, no matter how hard she tried, been able to stop constructing a surplus of theories to explain Alicent’s recent change in occupation, with all the paranoia and imagination of a detective on a cold case. Alicent had been disbarred. Alicent was doing community service? Alicent had a twin sister. Alicent had ran out of pro bono legal cases and so was doing window-washing instead—

“Have you seen my football boots? Mum?”

“Mm,” Rhaenyra let out, squinting at her phone. “What’s that, darling?”

“Football boots,” Jace repeated patiently. “Mine. Seen?”

“They’re in the mudroom,” Rhaenyra said. 

“They’re not.”

“Well, then I don’t know.”

“Then who would know?”

“Ideally the owner of the boots,” she said, still not looking up. 

“What are you staring at?”

“What?”

“Hmm,” Jace let out, peeking over her shoulder. “Alicent Hightower,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

“That’s very rude, Jace,” Rhaenyra said, turning her phone away from him. 

“Weird name,” Jace said by way of reply. 

“What?” 

“Hightower. That’s a weird name.”

“She works for the company.”

“Doing what?”

“She’s part of the law firm we have on retainer,” she said, because to get into the nitty-gritty of Alicent being a former(?) corporate lawyer who she now played charades with on a semi-regular basis seemed a bit much for her teenage son, who was still getting used to ideas like “girls won’t fancy you if you wear your trousers down to your knees” or “your mother is always right”, and was also late for football practice. 

“What, she’s one of your lawyers?”

“Kind of,” Rhaenyra said. “Maybe. I don’t know. I just wanted to—you know, do some due diligence. Or whatever.”

“Like, vetting her?”

“I suppose,” Rhaenyra said, which was patently untrue. Although, come to think of it, was it a bad idea to vet their washers? They’d probably seen a sensitive document or two, through the windows. Maybe Alicent was running a sting operation. 

“Have you looked her up?” Jace asked. 

“Well, there’s not much to look at on Google. An article about some case she won but it’s from ten years ago. And I can’t find her on their website.”

Jace snorted. “Mum, I meant look her up on LinkedIn.”

She blinked. “What?”

“LinkedIn,” he repeated slowly. “You have a LinkedIn profile, don’t you?”

“Yes, but Talya runs it,” she muttered. 

“Here,” he said, holding out her phone so she could see as he tapped onto the LinkedIn app that she didn’t know she actually had. “You can search people here…ah.” A few moments, and Alicent Hightower’s face appeared on her screen. Rhaenyra leaned in closer. She looked just as pretty there as she had that morning. 

“Says here she left the firm…four months ago,” Jace reported. “Hmm.”

“Hmm,” Rhaenyra echoed, staring at the picture. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” he said. A pause, then he repeatedly meaningfully: “No problem.”

“Not getting a lift to practice,” she said. “I have work to do. And the bus takes you straight there.”

He groaned. “It’s raining—”

“We live in London,” she said dryly. “It’s always raining.”

“And I can’t find my Zip card!”

“Sounds like you’ll have to look harder,” she said, smiling sweetly. “Off you go. Take your brother with you.”

“Ugh,” he let out with no little amount of drama. “Fine. Luke! I’m going! Mum’s not dropping us off because she hates us—”

“But it’s raining!” came the response from upstairs.

“Oh my God,” Rhaenyra muttered. “I raised the two biggest drama queens this side of the river.”

“Am I a drama queen, Mummy?” Joffrey interjected from the sofa, tapping on his iPad. 

“No, darling, you’re a perfect angel,” Rhaenyra said with a sigh. Then, realising suddenly that he was self-supervising: “Wait, where’s Elinda?”

“You gave her the night off,” called Luke. “It’s her husband’s birthday.”

“Oh right,” Rhaenyra mumbled, rubbing at her forehead. “Hence the nanny-replacing iPad.”

“Alright, fine,” Jace said in the voice of a man going in for last-ditch negotiation, leaning his elbows onto the counter. “How about a pick-up after?”

“Jace,” she began, sighing. “I have a lot of work to do—”

“Like what? Looking up hot lawyers on LinkedIn?”

“Oi,” she said warningly. “Watch it, you.” She checked the clock above the stove. “Now go, you’re already late and I can’t bear it when your coach gives me that reproachful look—”

“Alright, alright, I’m going, calm down, woman!”

“Um—!”

“Sorry. Sorry. Mum. Beautiful, perfect, Mum, who I love and respect—”

“That’s better.”

“Who’d rather cyberstalk Alicent Hightower than give me a lift—”

“Jace!”

“You always did have the strangest taste in women,” said Laena, who stopped by that same night, ostensibly to pick up a skirt she’d lent to Rhaenyra but in reality to enquire after her ill-fated crush. Her cousin had become fascinated by Alicent since Rhaenyra had brought her up a few weeks earlier, and her YouTube search history was now replete with searches like window washing, window cleaning, window cleaning skyscraper, window washing ASMR, hot window washer, hot window washer NOT porn. Rhaenyra’s search history looked very similar, of course, though it had since graduated from “hot window washer” to “how to get over someone youve never actually spoken to only played games with”, the latter of which had not produced very enlightening results, although now she knew more than she wanted to about things like Twitch streamers. 

“In women? Not men?”

“Oh, no,” Laena said. “Harwin was conventionally attractive, God rest him.” 

“Very conventionally attractive,” Rhaenyra agreed wistfully. 

“Is her highness conventionally attractive?”

Her highness was Laena’s adopted name for Alicent. It was partly a pun, but Laena didn’t believe in knowing the names of people she wasn’t personally acquainted with. Parties, elections, and TV shows were a nightmare, but at least she knew the name of the lady at Waitrose, which Rhaenyra didn’t. 

“Yes, Alicent is also conventionally attractive.”

“How’d you know? I thought window washers wore, like, masks or something.”

More evidence of Laena’s research. Rhaenyra bit down on a private smirk, and shrugged. 

“I remember her from before,” she lied. Only Jace knew she’d been looking Alicent up on LinkedIn. Informing Laena would be dangerous. 

“Have you spoken to her, at least?”

Rhaenyra paused. “Not in words,” she said. 

Laena blinked. “So you’ve been communicating in mime?”

“Well, yes,” Rhaenyra said. 

It was all in jest, at first. In fact, the first time Rhaenyra had suggested a game of charades (via tablet), she’d been expecting Alicent to roll her eyes, give her the middle finger, or simply hoist herself further down the building, out of view. What actually happened was a rather game shrug and a smirk, as though many people had suggested this to her, which meant that Rhaenyra had had to suffer the humiliation of being actually territorial over the person who washed her windows.  The furtive, unexpected hint of silliness in Alicent Hightower that a game of charades had uncovered sealed her fate. A week later, seeing her outside the meeting room window, she’d thought: unfortunately, I am obsessed with you now. Because there was nothing better, Rhaenyra had always thought, than a person who seemed easy to figure out and then threw a random, beautiful character trait at you, like being funny and good at miming. It was like being hit with a ray of sunlight when you left the house, or feeling the wind on your face as someone zipped past you on a bike. Like watching someone wiping soap onto a window and sweeping it away cleanly, with gorgeous, stupid simplicity. 

About a month into their not-routine routine, Rhaenyra was beginning to feel defensive enough about the whole thing that she brought it up unprompted in therapy, and said: it’s just a bit of fun on a Wednesday morning. It’s not, like, crazy or anything. Is it? Her therapist ignored the question and said: that’s good. You deserve to have fun. Rhaenyra said: What, because my husband is dead? Her therapist said: No, because you’re a person who doesn’t offer themselves fun that often, because you have a high-stakes, stressful job, three children to look after, and not many people to help. Rhaenyra said: I have help. Her therapist said: I know. But you don’t always have to just tread water, Rhaenyra. If your— Rhaenyra said: Alicent. Her name is Alicent. She is not mine. Her therapist said: I was going to say “your new friend”. Because it’s good for you to have friends. Rhaenyra said: Do you think it is possible to be friends with someone if you have not even spoken to them?  Her therapist said: Do you? Rhaenyra said: You’re wrong, by the way. It is about treading water. Surviving. Her therapist said: Thriving? suggestively, Rhaenyra scowled, and they struggled through the rest of the session. 

Thriving was not on Rhaenyra’s bingo card for life. 

She was no stranger to it. There was a time in which it was her priority, in fact; thriving used to translate roughly to ‘hedonism’ in her book, and it also used to involve a surplus of drugs, and clubbing, and pissing away her father’s money, and having sex. Some of these activities she missed, but most she didn’t. In any case, inheriting one of the biggest corporations in the world and losing your husband unexpectedly in a road accident tended to put a damper on one’s “thrive” mentality, and Rhaenyra was tired. She was tired of talking about mergers with Daemon; she was tired of conference calls at five am and eleven pm; she was even tired of the flat white she had every morning, even though Talya made it just how she liked it. 

She was particularly tired today. Today everything that could have gone wrong did go wrong. She’d not had time to walk Syrax in the morning because there’d been some kind of emergency in Shanghai that had needed her attention. Instead, she’d taken a call from the bathroom and accidentally unmuted herself whilst taking a piss. Luke had forgotten his P.E. kit and she’d had to ignore the multiple calls from the school asking her to explain why. The car, which had had its petrol metre hovering in ‘reserve’ for what had felt like about two months, finally gave up the ghost that afternoon, just in time to make her late for a board meeting, where she had to explain why it was that she refused to have a driver. That was to say nothing of the board meeting itself, which was miserable, and the fact that she forgot to pick Joffrey up from school, even though it was the one day of the week she insisted on doing so, like a fake mother, which she basically was. It had been, to put it lightly, an absolute shitter of a day, and she was tired of blaming such shitters on the fact that she was a CEO or a mother or a widow. Somewhere—probably heaven—there was a big fat counter, and her allotted “blame it on my problems” number was rapidly running out. 

“Getting a drink,” said Daemon. “Coming?”

“Dunno,” Rhaenyra said glumly, eyeing her papers. “What kind of drink?”

“Well, after that meeting,” Daemon said. “I think I am leaning towards the public house.”

Rhaenyra checked the time. “It’s barely past four, Daemon.”

“And? If we were at a corporate fundraiser we’d already be pissed on champers.”

“But we’re not,” Rhaenyra said, rubbing at her temples. “And Joff’s teacher wants to talk to me this evening—”

Daemon’s mouth curled into a smirk. “Well, you’ll certainly need something stronger, then.”

“Not sure that would put me in the school’s good books.”

“Surely you’re already on their watchlist,” Daemon pointed out, rather unhelpfully. “Being a CEO will do that to you.”

“Not for long, if these projections are anything to go by,” she said darkly.

At this, Daemon shifted where he stood and fixed her with a look.

“Rhaenyra,” he began.

“Don’t do that,” she said.

“Do what?”

“Do the—uncle thing. The concerned uncle thing.”

“I’m not concerned. I’m…piqued. Attention-wise.”

Rhaenyra groaned.

“Daemon,” she said. “I just need to get a jump on reviewing this—ridiculous pitch deck for the presentation next week—”

“Right, right, message received,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender. “I do think a pint would do you some good, though.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Rhaenyra said under her breath. Her phone pinged with an email alert, then two more. She rubbed her eyes. “Call Talya in on your way out, will you?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said dryly, and left. Rhaenyra squinted at the remnants of a particularly painful Slack exchange with the head of finance. Then she noticed a blur of blue from behind the window, and heard a light tap. 

On a normal day this would have been an exciting development: Alicent was not washing the windows on her usual Wednesday morning, but on Thursday afternoon. Better, she was actually trying to get Rhaenyra’s attention (usually it was the other way around). But today was not a normal day—it was a very bad day, actually, and no amount of charades with a hot window-washer would change that. Even so, she couldn’t help but glance over in her direction. Alicent waved. She wriggled her fingers limply in response, then turned back to her desk. Alicent tapped again. Then again. 

“Not today,” she murmured to herself, hoping Alicent could either lip read or gauge Rhaenyra’s mood from her generally downcast manner. No such luck. One more tap. Rhaenyra looked up. Alicent was holding her phone up to the glass. 

Bad day?

Rhaenyra ran her hand over her face. 

“Obviously,” she muttered to herself. She pointed to her desktop to indicate her extreme busyness. Alicent quirked an eyebrow. 

Want a sandwich?

Rhaenyra stared. Alicent took her phone and typed a new message. 

Cheese and pickle. I have tea too. One-time offer only. 

It was tempting. In fact, Rhaenyra didn’t think she’d been so sorely tempted by anything in her life. But her phone let out an undignified squawk, as if to remind her of her obligations. She made a face and shook her head. Alicent looked at her for a moment, then typed another message. 

Okay. Two-time offer. Cash it in any time. 

Rhaenyra smiled and realised she was actually on the verge of tears. She looked around for a piece of paper to scrawl a thank you on. But by the time she’d found it, Alicent was already gone. 

Mr Jace Strong, Esq (00:11): Mum why r u leaving house at midnight 

You (00:14): Jace I am not leaving the house. 

Mr Jace Strong, Esq (00:14): u literally are just heard door close 

You (00:14): Why are you awake? It’s past your bed time.

Mr Jace Strong, Esq (00:15): im 16

You (00:15): And I’m forty. What’s your point?

Mr Jace Strong, Esq (00:15): lmfao u are not

You (00:15): Excuse me?

Mr Jace Strong, Esq (00:15): ummmm because ur obviouls ylike 30!

You (00:15): Hmm

Mr Jace Strong, Esq (00:16): where r u going are u sleepwalking

You (00:16): Obviously not since I am texting you. 

Mr Jace Strong, Esq (00:16): sleep texting

You (00:16): Go to bed, Jacaerys. And don’t think I haven’t noticed that you are on a device right now, after device hours. 

Mr Jace Strong, Esq (00:17): ok but this is emergency!!! Where are u going!!!

You (00:17): I am going to walk Syrax. I will be back in fifteen minutes. 

Mr Jace Strong, Esq (00:17): omg mum luke and I walked her after school. it’s literally fine if u forgot to walk her ONE day 

You (00:17): She needs two walks. I did not forget. I didn’t have time. So I am doing it now. Go to sleep. 

Syrax didn’t mind a night walk. It wasn’t the first time. Neither did Rhaenyra, although it did make going into the park around the corner a little less dignified; she had to hop over the low fence and lift Syrax over too, shushing her the whole time. She’d been told off by the groundskeeper more than once, though not with enough gravity to put her off coming. She watched Syrax run up to the beech tree in the middle of the green with great enthusiasm, as though it were an old friend she hadn’t seen in some time. Abruptly, a small terrier came into view and started sniffing Syrax’s bottom. Rhaenyra raised her eyebrows, glancing around for the dog’s owner; her eyes landed on, of all people, Alicent Hightower, who was watching Syrax and her own dog with studied interest. 

Rhaenyra stifled a groan. She didn’t like making conversation with anyone after nine in the evening, especially not her crush, who was currently crouching down to pick up dog poo. There was a chance, she hoped, that Alicent wouldn’t see or recognise her under cover of darkness—or that if she did, she’d do the dignified thing and pretend she hadn’t seen her. Maybe they could laugh about it another time, when they finally spoke to each other, and Rhaenyra wasn’t having the mother of all mental breakdowns. Oh yes, I did see you in the park that one time. Were you in your pyjamas? Funny thing, that, so was I. I guess it happens when you take your dog for a walk after midnight. Oh, you weren’t in your pyjamas? Just me then. Ha ha ha. 

“Hello.”

Christ, but you sneak up on a person, Rhaenyra thought to herself. She looked up. 

“Oh,” she said, affecting a tone of surprise. It didn’t quite work, and the word came out more like a sigh. “Hello.”

“I’m sorry,” said Alicent. “I can leave you be. I just thought—well, it was just quite hard to pretend we hadn’t seen each other, to be honest.”

“Yes,” Rhaenyra said limply, though in her view it wasn’t hard, and one of the main tenets of British society was pretending things weren’t there when they were (and vice versa). She caught the look on Alicent’s face and suppressed a wince. “Sorry,” she said. “Please—“

“Oh, no, that’s—”

“No, really,” she said, firmly now. “Please. Alicent. Join me.”

It was probably the first time she’d said Alicent’s name out loud—to her face, at least. It sprung readily from her mouth, with a tickle of familiarity. She considered, too, the sound of Alicent’s voice, which she also hadn’t heard before, not in recent memory, anyway. It was deeper than she’d expected, and older, somehow. There was a pause as Alicent lowered herself gingerly onto the bench. 

“You, um, walk your dog at night too, then,” she said. 

“I try not to,” Rhaenyra said. “It doesn’t work.”

“Yes,” said Alicent. “Well, I think he’s resigned to it by now. Honestly, I keep thinking I should give him to my brother or something, but…” She trailed off, looking at the terrier, who had stopped smelling Syrax a while ago and was now entertaining himself elsewhere. “Just too fond of him, I suppose.”

“What’s his name?”

“Aegon.”

“Aegon?”

“Yes, like ‘egg’, and then ‘on’.”

“Egg then on,” Rhaenyra said. 

Alicent, seeming to realise that a pronunciation guide was entirely unnecessary in this instance, blushed. 

“What’s yours called?”

“Syrax,” said Rhaenyra. “Like ‘syr’, then ‘axe’—”

“Yes, point taken,” Alicent cut her off with a slight huff. There was another pause, this time filled loudly with Rhaenyra trying her utmost not to turn and stare directly at Alicent, just to take her all in. From beside her came a shuffling.

“Want one?” Alicent asked around the cigarette she had now put in her mouth. 

“I’m alright,” Rhaenyra said. Then, watching Alicent take the lighter out: “Actually, no, yeah, I would really like one.”

Alicent didn’t react, apart from to take out another cigarette from the box. Rhaenyra waited, expecting to be handed it; instead, Alicent put it in her mouth too, lit both at the same time, then passed one to her. Rhaenyra blinked. It was the same trick that boys at university used to pull to get girls to pay attention to them—your mouth on my mouth via proxy, we’ve smoked the same cigarette, now let’s share the same bed, and so on. But Alicent had done it without a hint of flirtiness; only an air of camaraderie, which of course made it far more attractive. Her mouth was suddenly extremely dry. She took a drag. 

“Fuck,” she sighed after exhaling. “God, that’s good.”

Alicent hummed. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you looked like you needed one.”

“Yeah,” Rhaenya said. “I really fucking do.”

“Bad day?”

Rhaenyra rubbed a hand over her face. “That’s the thing,” she said. “For anyone else it would be a bad day, but for me it’s just—a day in the life.”

“A bad day in the life.”

“Just a day in the life. Of Rhaenyra Targaryen, worst CEO on the planet—”

“I don’t know about worst,” Alicent interjected mildly.

“And worst mother,” Rhaenyra added woefully, ignoring this. “And worst—dog-walker—” Her voice was wavering, which was very embarrassing, so she stopped talking, and took another pull of the cigarette. Alicent didn’t respond immediately. 

“I lost my neighbours’ dog once,” she said eventually. “On Wimbledon Common. It was a disaster. I lied and said someone had lured him away, but really I just let him off the leash and couldn’t find him afterwards. I felt rotten.”

Rhaenyra looked at her. “What?”

“I’m just saying,” said Alicent. “You’re not the worst dog-walker.”

Rhaenyra let out a sniffle, though it was somewhere between that and a laugh. “That’s terrible,” she said wetly.

“I know,” she said. “I mean, they found him. But for five hours I really was the worst dog-walker.”

“You’re funny,” Rhaenyra said. 

“Not really,” Alicent replied. “Or maybe I am now.”

“You weren’t this funny before.”

“I didn’t think you noticed me before.”

“I didn’t,” Rhaenyra admitted.

“Hmm,” Alicent let out.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just admiring that famous Targaryen charm.”

“Oh, bugger off.”

“There it is again.”

Rhaenyra snorted. They lapsed back into silence. 

“So,” she began. 

“Oh, yes,” Alicent said. “Here we go.”

“Here we go what?”

“You’re going to ask me why I’m washing windows.”

“No,” Rhaenyra lied, unjustifiably annoyed by Alicent’s knowing tone. “I was going to ask—what qualifications. A person requires. To wash windows.”

“Right,” Alicent said. “Well, obviously I sat an exam—”

“Naturally.”

“And after that there was a probation period.”

“I see.”

“And after a review with my manager—”

“Hang on, how long is the probation period?” 

“A day,” Alicent said, a smile creeping onto her lips. “Give or take.”

“Doesn’t sound very thorough.”

“Well, I suppose the proof is in the pudding. Are you unsatisfied with your window-washing service, Ms Targaryen?”

Rhaenyra looked at her askance. Dear Harwin, she began to compose somewhere distant in the back of her mind. The first person I’ve been attracted to since you died is a possibly disgraced lawyer turned window-washer. 

“No,” she said eventually. “I’m very satisfied.”

“Well,” said Alicent after a moment. “That’s good.” She had the gently shell-shocked look of someone who hadn’t been expecting to reap what she’d sowed. Rhaenyra suspected that flirtation was a new look on her, and she was still ascertaining its limits. 

“I like heights,” she said.

“Hmm?”

“That’s why I’m washing windows. I like heights.”

“Right,” Rhaenyra said, blinking. “Well, I suppose my question really is—why you’re not being a lawyer.”

“Ah,” Alicent let out. “That’s a little more complicated.”

“You didn’t do anything very terrible, did you?”

“I suppose it depends what you mean by terrible.”

“I mean something illegal.”

“In that case, no, I didn’t do anything very terrible.” Alicent looked over, a slightly bitter smile gracing her lips. “Though as a former corporate lawyer I should inform you that there are a myriad of things a person can do that are terrible but not illegal.”

“Yes,” Rhaenyra said. “I did know that.” 

Before she could probe further, Alicent asked: “How about you?”

“How about me what?”

“Why did you become a CEO?”

“Well, my father—”

“I know that. But I didn’t ask about him.”

She’s quite rude, Rhaenyra thought.

“You’re quite rude,” she said.

Alicent looked affronted for a second, as though on instinct. Then suddenly she blinked, and laughed. 

“What?” Rhaenyra asked crossly.

“No one’s ever called me rude before,” she said.

“Not to your face, maybe?” 

“Maybe,” she conceded, “but I believe my manners to be impeccable.”

“I know what you’re trying to say,” Rhaenyra said, feeling a slight prick of annoyance at the knowing look on Alicent’s face.“That I’m mindlessly following in my father’s footsteps, and really I hate my life and my job—”

Alicent cocked an eyebrow. “Is that what I’m trying to say?”she asked. “Here I thought I was just getting to know you.”

Rhaenyra felt herself flushing with indignation. “Just because you didn’t enjoy your job—”

“You’re the one who’s had a bad day,” Alicent pointed out.

“Yes, I know that, thank you,” Rhaenyra snapped. “It’s all just fucking stupid. They’re railroading me because I’m a nepo baby, and I didn’t fill the car up, and I’m walking the dog at midnight, and I miss my husband—and. And I’m very tired.”

She halted, feeling her throat tighten with self-pity. She looked up at the sky, starless, the grey-blue of pollution and gun metal. 

“If you’re going to suggest I quit my job to become a window washer,” she said to the sky, in a hoarse voice, “I would probably do it right now.”

There was a very long silence, during which Rhaenyra didn’t dare look over. She wondered if maybe Alicent had gotten up at some point during this little rant and left the park entirely. But then there was a rustling sound. 

“I’m sorry about your husband,” Alicent said eventually.

“Thanks,” Rhaenyra said. “Me too.”

“I’ve never felt bad for a nepo baby before,” Alicent said after a moment, with an air of mild appraisal. “I usually think they deserve what’s coming to them.”

Rhaenyra let out a choked sort of laugh. “Yes, we usually do.”

“We do, don’t we?”

“Do you still count yourself as a nepo baby?”

“Oh yes,” Alicent said wryly. “Despite my father’s attempts to revoke my club card.”

“Attempts?”

She raised her eyebrows. “You’re pretending not to know, then,” she said. 

“Know—?”

Alicent’s eyebrows hiked up higher, this time with something like genuine surprise. “Or maybe you don’t know,” she said. 

Rhaenyra squinted at her. 

“Cryptic,” she said. 

“No,” Alicent said. “Not interesting enough to be cryptic.” She discarded the butt of her cigarette with a flick. “I should be getting home, I think,” she said.

“Yes,” said Rhaenyra. “Me too.”

“Which way are you walking?”

She nodded in the direction of the park gate she’d hopped over to get in. “You?”

“Same,” said Alicent. Rhaenyra couldn’t figure out whether this was the truth or not, but she liked the idea that Alicent might take a roundabout route home just to prolong their being in each other’s company. They each collected their dogs and headed down the avenue. Rhaenyra tried not to, but she couldn’t resist peeking at her companion occasionally. Alicent seemed preoccupied by something, though it was hard to know what that might be. She also looked remarkably put together, considering the time of night and the fact that she was walking her dog. For the first time since spotting her outside the windows of the office, Rhaenyra could actually see a shade of the lawyer she used to be. She imagined, for a moment, what might have happened if she’d taken better notice of her a few years ago, when she’d come in to clean up a thorny mess that Daemon had made with a shell company. Nothing, in all likelihood—the months after Harwin’s death had been a nasty, exhausted haze—but then again. She imagined it all the way home, through idle chat and mostly companionable silence. She stopped at the doorstep of the house.

“Well, this is me,” she said, a little awkwardly. Syrax was already tugging at her leash in eagerness to get inside. Rhaenyra watched as Alicent squinted up at it. A few moments of silence passed before she added wryly: “Sorry if it’s not to your liking.”

“What?” Alicent blinked, turning back to her. “No, no—God, sorry. I didn’t mean to—I was just admiring the wisteria.”

“Oh,” Rhaenyra said, turning to look at the tree in question, its branches draped along the walls of the house. It had been Harwin’s idea, of course. Of all the things she resented having to learn to do after he’d died, gardening was surely top of the list. Most of all she resented discovering how much she truly enjoyed it. “Nice, isn’t it?”

“I was thinking of how it reminds me of uni, actually,” Alicent said, her voice made absent with recollection. 

“Oxford?” Rhaenyra hazarded.

“The other one, I’m afraid,” Alicent said dryly.

“That surprises me.”

“Does it?”

“Yes.”

“Well, in actual fact, my father made me learn the organ so that I could apply to both. It’s the only way you can, you know.”

“So you got into both?”

Alicent snorted. “I didn’t get into either,” she said. “Durham was my firm choice. But on results day I was…heavily encouraged to take a gap year and reapply.”

This series of facts illustrated a method of parenting with such a combination of cruelty and stupidity behind it that Rhaenyra was struck dumb, and could think of nothing to say.

“You’re an Oxford woman, I’d have thought,” Alicent said into the silence after a few moments.

“Yes,” Rhaenyra said in that haughty, ridiculous way that no Oxford graduate could resist when this subject came up. 

“Hmm,” Alicent said, then didn’t say anything else.

“Surprised?” Rhaenyra prompted.

“Obviously not,” Alicent said. “Explains why our paths didn’t cross. Although either way maybe I was a year behind. Or a few ahead…?” 

Rhaenyra smirked. “I heard it’s rude to ask a lady her age.”

“Was that what I was doing?”

“You tell me,” she said. A light flicked on upstairs; they both looked up.

“Someone waiting up for you?”

“Yes,” she said with a sigh. “I should really…” Go and cry in the shower, confiscate my son’s phone, check if my other son’s school trip is tomorrow or the day after? Cry again before bed, write an email to my dead husband. “…go in,” she completed. 

“Yes,” Alicent agreed, and glanced down at Aegon. “He’s starting to get tired,” she said. 

“Makes two of us,” Rhaenyra said lightly.

“Three,” said Alicent, smiling. “It was nice to see you. Well, actually, to see you—not behind a window.”

“We really should stop meeting like that.”

Alicent laughed. “We should, shouldn’t we?” 

“No,” Rhaenyra said, a little too sincerely. “I like it. Seeing you there.” 

There was a long beat; Alicent’s eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything. 

“Well,” said Rhaenyra, determined not to feel awkward about this reaction. “Good night,” she said. 

“Good night.” 

She turned to go up the stairs. 

“Rhaenyra,” Alicent said. She pronounced her name slowly, as though testing it out on her tongue like a sip of wine. Rhaenyra suppressed a shiver and turned back around. “You’re doing fine,” she said. “Don’t become a window washer.”

Fine. Rhaenyra was not doing well, or doing great, or doing it all, because you can do it all as a woman CEO!. She was doing fine. It was an ambivalent and almost indifferent judgement of her. It turned her on beyond belief. 

“Okay,” she said, through an agony of arousal. 

Alicent had a smile on her lips that hadn’t quite faded away. Rhaenyra gave her one last fatal glance as she went back inside. Dear Harwin, she thought to herself again. I think I’m in trouble.

DEAR HARWIN -(STOP)-

BEGINNING TO FEEL WEIRD ABOUT THE EMAILS ESP AS MORE & MORE ARE ABOUT A.H. SO WRITING IN TELEGRAM FORM JUST TO FEEL SOMETHING -(STOP)- 

I KNOW I’VE MENTIONED HINGE DATES BEFORE BUT THAT WAS FOR A LAUGH THIS IS ODD SHE IS GIVING ME TEA QUITE A LOT AND WE RECENTLY SHARED A SANDWICH -(STOP)-

MISS YOU SO MUCH -(STOP)-

RHAENYRA STRONG NÉE TARGARYEN

“It’s just builders’,” Alicent said. “You needn’t look at it like I’ve put arsenic in it.”

I am more looking at it because I am trying to ascertain if this is a “romantic tea” or a “friendly tea”, Rhaenyra wanted to reply. Instead she said, with a nod out at the sunset: “This is nice.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Alicent said. “So’s the tea,” she hinted. 

“Message received,” Rhaenyra said dryly, and took a sip. She looked out at the sky. On Alicent’s platform, hoisted upwards, it was like she was in it, sitting on a cloud, if the cloud was made of scaffolding and quite uncomfortable on one’s bum cheeks. “I think I’m clinically depressed,” she announced after a few drinks of tea. 

Alicent eyed her thoughtfully. “Probably,” she agreed. 

“You always know how to make a woman feel better,” Rhaenyra muttered. 

“What makes you think you’re clinically depressed?” 

Rhaenyra shrugged. “I find everything annoying,” she said.

“You have an annoying job,” Alicent replied.

“Also I called this sunset nice but it’s actually beautiful,” she said.

“I don’t think eloquence is a requirement for being non-depressed,” said Alicent. 

“And—”

“And?”

And last night, when everyone had gone home, even the cleaners, Rhaenyra had pressed her hand in her mouth and rested her forehead on her office window and looked down at the city, at the dark, sprawling unforgivingness of it, the sly dark wink of the Thames and the red-letter urgency of the OXO tower, St Paul’s Cathedral, stark and unmoved by her anguish, and thought, God forgive me, but I’m miserable. 

“Just and,” she settled on saying. 

Alicent looked at her carefully, as though she’d heard everything Rhaenyra hadn’t said. Then she took up her flask, reached over, and poured more tea into Rhaenyra’s mug.

“I’ve found,” she said softly after a moment, “that a good cup of tea is very helpful for that.”

Rhaenyra stared down into the tiny plastic cup, and took a gulp.

“What happened with your father?” she asked in a mumble. 

Alicent looked away, at the horizon. She was sitting cross-legged, back very straight. The wind swayed the platform a little bit. Neither of them even flinched. 

“We had some differences over a case,” she said after a long silence. 

“What kind of differences?”

“Irreconcilable differences.”

“And so he’s cut you off?”

“Yes,” Alicent said simply. “Naturally I’m not quite destitute yet, and I imagine he’ll change his mind at some point, but I suppose I wanted to figure out if I could support myself. That was always his theory, you see. That without him I was nothing, and I’d never be able to stand on my own two feet.”

“So you’re washing windows,” Rhaenyra said.

The corner of Alicent’s mouth ticked up in amusement. “You can’t tell me that you still don’t believe that. Considering the amount of empirical evidence you’ve been given.”

“I do,” Rhaenyra said. “I suppose I don’t understand.”

“Some things are hard to understand,” Alicent said in a strange, distant voice. “I barely understand myself.” She blinked. “My cousin knows a man who washes windows. He owns this company.”

“So you’re still a nepo baby,” said Rhaenyra.

“Of sorts,” Alicent said. “But when I say ‘company’ I really mean it’s three people and a truck.”

“Not quite Hightower and Partners.”

Alicent grinned. “Better,” she said.

“Really?”

“Oh yes. Aside from the, ahem, salary gap and some unsociable hours, I must say I’m having the time of my life.”

“Why?”

Alicent shrugged. “Because I’m not someone else any more. I’m me.” 

“And you like that?”

“I think that’s besides the point,” Alicent said. “Considering I’m the only me I have.”

“Right,” Rhaenyra said, with the blankness that came from being hit like a tonne of bricks. Rhaenyra had never considered the fact that the self she was, right this moment in time, was the only one she truly had. All her life she, like many others, had been relentlessly conditioned to strive for a self that constantly hovered out of reach, a mirage of self-actualisation. “That makes sense,” she said weakly.

“It does, doesn’t it?”

The sun had completely set by now, leaving them lingering in the blue velvet of dusk. Somewhere below them, a car beeped its horn. Rhaenyra looked at Alicent, and realised suddenly that her face was getting closer, because her face was moving closer to it, and their lips were touching. 

“Mmf—wait,” she said into Alicent’s mouth. 

Alicent drew back immediately. “I’m sorry,” she said stiffly. “I misread—”

“What? I was leaning in to you—”

“You’re a CEO—”

“And you’re a window-washer,” Rhaenyra said. “If we’re just saying occupations. Also, the upstairs-downstairs schtick really doesn’t work when you also come from money—”

“Not as much money as—”

“Oh, fuck off,” Rhaenyra said, rolling her eyes. 

“You’re seeing someone,” Alicent said with finality, apparently determined not to let Rhaenyra explain herself.  

Rhaenyra gawked. “Eh?”

“There’s another—a woman, or a man, and I’ve—”

“Oh yes,” Rhaenyra chortled. “Definitely another man on the scene. Three in fact.”

“—gotten in the middle of it, but we can forget it ever happened, really, I suppose I just—with the sunset, and I thought maybe you were interested—three?”

“Three,” Rhaenyra confirmed solemnly. She took her wallet out from her jacket and removed the photograph she had inside, which was old and tattered and beautiful. “That’s Jace,” she said, pointing at him. “Seventeen now, God help me. Luke. And Joffrey. Joff for short.”

“Oh,” Alicent said in a very small voice.

“And that’s Harwin,” she said, pointing at the aforementioned individual, holding Joffrey on his hip. It was her favourite photo of them, one taken on holiday in Greece. All four of them were sunburned to all hell, and looked ecstatic beyond words. “I suppose you could say we were seeing each other,” she continued, “in the ten years of marriage sort of way.”

“Oh,” Alicent said again. 

“Yes,” Rhaenyra agreed. She smiled in that rueful way she’d seen single mothers do on television and scoffed at before. “I suppose I’m unkissable now.”

“No,” Alicent breathed out. “No, you’re actually very kissable.”

“More kissable?”

“Impossible,” said Alicent. 

“So no mummy kink?”

“Don’t be uncouth,” said Alicent, and tugged her forward. 

Harwin—

All ship-shape, cap’n. Talk soon. 

PS: coming to visit graveyard next week, Joff insisting on doing the tidying himself, so if you have weeds left DON’T moan to me. 

PPS: All good vis a vis A.H. Is it annoying that I’m talking about her?

“I bet she’s an animal in the sack,” Laena said. “Lawyers always are. They just want to fuck all that stress away.”

“She’s not a lawyer,” Rhaenyra said. 

“But is she an animal in the sack?”

(“I haven’t done this in a while,” Rhaenyra said breathlessly, another single-mother-movie-moment. 

Alicent’s head popped up from between her legs. “Are you doing something right now?” she inquired politely.

“You’re a—oh. Shit. Fuck. I’m serious, Alicent. It’s been, like, twenty years.”

“Christ, what are you, a nun?”

“No, I’m—yes, there. Yes. That’s—good. Bit harder—? Mm, yes. No, I’m—I was married. To a man.”

“As far as I know the logistics down here are still the same.”

Rhaenyra smirked, even through the wave of pleasure cresting through her. “Not quite, darling.”

“You know what I meant,” Alicent grumbled, then put her mouth to other, more creative uses. Afterwards, Rhaenyra stared at the ceiling. Alicent did too.

“What are you thinking of?” she murmured.

“I don’t know,” Rhaenyra said quietly. Outside the ceiling was the sky, she thought. The sky with all its endlessness, its scariness. As a child she’d dreamed of being a pilot. She still dreamed of it. 

“Rhaenyra,” Alicent said, voice barely audible. Rhaenyra craned her neck to look down at her. Those eyes, she thought. Criminal. Trouble. “Do you—?”

Whatever thought Alicent had was cut off as she rolled over slightly and let out a quiet yelp of pain. She stuck a hand underneath her body and, to Rhaenyra’s slight horror, issued forth a small plastic Lego figurine. It was either a Stormtrooper, Batman, or Bluey: she couldn’t tell in the darkness, and to be frank they were usually all much of a muchness to her. She winced. 

“Shit,” she said, attempting to hide how utterly humiliating it was to take a person back to her house for the first time in decades and inadvertently remind them of her status as ‘chaotic single mother’. “Sorry. I—fuck—” 

Alicent held the figurine up, examining it.

“But darling,” she said. “We were so careful. I could have sworn I used protection—” 

Rhaenyra sat up on her elbows and let out a breathy laugh. “You’re so—”

“He looks just like you,” Alicent cooed. “He’s got your eyes. What shall we call him?”

“Alicent,” Rhaenyra said. 

“Mm?”

I think you might be the most attractive person I have ever met, Rhaenyra almost said. I think I’m in love with you, although that’s probably the oxytocin from the two orgasms you just gave me. Ever since I saw you outside the window I’ve been looking at the sky, at the stars, trying to figure out who you are, who I am, the whole insane puzzle of you. 

Instead she said: “Turn over.”)

“Yes, she is an animal,” Rhaenyra said primly. “Thank you for asking.”

Laena let out a long, triumphant whoop.

Sir Luke of the Realm (21:22): hey mum can i ask you something? 

You (21:22): Sorry, darling, stuck in this agonising meeting. Can I call you back? Are you okay? Is it Code Red?

Sir Luke of the Realm (21:22): no, it’s fine

Sir Luke of the Realm (21:22): code green

Sir Luke of the Realm (21:23): will just talk when you’re home

“Hello, love,” Rhaenyra said, rapping lightly on the door of Luke’s bedroom and leaning against the frame. “Sorry, it was a late one tonight. How was school?”

“Fine,” Luke said. “Are you dating a redhead?”

“Um,” Rhaenyra said. “No. Yes. Maybe?”

“It’s complicated?”

“I suppose,” Rhaenyra said. Actually things with Alicent were very simple; they were the simplest part of Rhaenyra’s complicated, messy life. Part of the reason she’d refused to even entertain a serious conversation about what on earth they thought they were doing was that she was loath to infect such a perfect, easy thing with her particular brand of ‘life is complicated’ lurgy. 

“How did you meet her?”

“At work,” said Rhaenyra, telling herself very firmly that this was not a lie. “Do I need to have a conversation with you about sexual orientation?”

“I think I’m across it,” Luke said. “Jace—” he began, then abruptly stopped, and coloured. Rhaenyra fought valiantly to keep from reacting and made a mental note to follow up with Jace later. 

“Okay,” said Rhaenyra.

“Are we going to meet her?”

“I don’t know.”

“You should probably know,” Luke told her seriously. 

“Yes, I probably should,” Rhaenyra replied. 

“Do you like her?”

“Yes,” Rhaenyra said. 

“Why?”

“Well,” said Rhaenyra, realising that this conversation was most likely actually about Luke and a miscellaneous teenager she was yet to be made aware of rather than her and Alicent. “She’s very pretty. So that helps. But also, she’s funny, and she listens to me, and—when I’m with her I feel—”

“Good?” Luke offered after a beat.

And also bad. Smart. Stupid. Lovesick. Alive. Like the sky they both worked in every day—one on the outside, one on the inside—was a perfect beautiful thing, and her life could be too, sometimes, if she took her head out of her arse. Like a clean window pane, so clear you barely noticed it was there. 

“Yes,” Rhaenyra said. “Good.”

“Have I misunderstood something?” Rhaenyra said. 

Alicent blinked. “No,” she said. “I—”

“Because I kind of thought—” Rhaenyra began, then halted. What did she think? For starters, not that that was the most important part, but they’d been sleeping with each other for the best part of three months. Two weeks ago she’d seen Alicent’s flat for the first time. It was extremely cosmopolitan and chic and also a complete tip, because she didn’t have a cleaner any more, because she was a window washer. In the bedroom half of Alicent’s clothes had been on the floor. Rhaenyra had loved it. She’d picked up a pair of dirty pants and stuck them in her mouth and when Alicent had said Rhaenyra that’s literally disgusting she’d just let out a long exaggerated moan and fallen to her knees and crawled over to her and fucked her right there on the floor. Separately to this, they had split precisely fourteen cheese and pickle sandwiches on Wednesdays, and Rhaenyra didn’t even care for pickle, particularly. And most importantly, her ace in the hole, was that last week Alicent had shown up at her door with two bikes. I have more for Jace and Luke if they’re around, she’d said with great indifference, as though she didn’t really give a toss. I thought you might like to come for a ride. Since it’s such a nice day. 

“It’s not that,” said Alicent, touching her wrist. 

“Then what is it?” Rhaenyra asked with some urgency. “Because you’ve been—”

“I’ve been?”

“Wooing me,” Rhaenyra said with no little amount of irritation.

“Not very honourably,” Alicent said. 

(Dear Harwin,

I know I’ve talked your ear off about poor Balerion, but one thing I always wanted to tell you about him was that he was a great gift giver. Of course he was a dog and so couldn’t write beautiful cards and such, but what I think gift giving really involves is a sense for when someone might need something—not a particular thing, just something, a sort of “I thought of you” thing or “someone on this wretched Earth remembers you exist” thing. Balerion used to bring all sorts of things to the back door for me when I was a child. Nothing particularly delicate—dead squirrels, rats, rabbits, that sort of thing, but I got the sentiment. You were always a champion gift giver, but—pardon my saying this darling—you did not have the same nervous energy that a dog has when it is bringing you a gift, of wide pleading eyes and an eagerness to be loved. A.H., on the other hand, has this in buckets. Like a Balerion, or a regency dandy who is courting a woman, she has brought me many gifts (itemised list overleaf). All the explanations for them are rather obscure, things like “I always liked these and pretended not to because it seemed basic” (r.e. Chillys water bottles) or “I never saw the point in them before but now I do” (r.e. milk frothers) or “will look good in your office” (r.e. tulips). Feeling wooed, which is terrifying of course. I know the done thing is to say that the two of you would have liked each other, but I don’t imagine you would have, as she is far too uptight for you, even now in her window-washing era. Even so, I’m sure you’d find her a good laugh. 

— R

LIST OF GIFTS FROM ALICENT (ONGOING)

• Tulips (an abundance!)
• Blue water bottle (expensive)
• Milk frother (also expensive); milk included
• Antique postcard of London
• Tote bag
• Tea (river’s worth)
• Sandos
• Pen with a small animal on top of it)

“But you’ve still been—”

“Yes,” Alicent said. “Of course I have, Rhaenyra. I—” her gaze flickered, as though shutters were being pulled down over it. She took a breath. “It’s just not for me.”

“A gala?” Rhaenyra said. “It’s not even a big thing. It’s just this—event—”

“It’s not my thing any more,” Alicent said firmly. 

“I know it’s not your thing,” Rhaenyra said. “It would—you’d be my guest.”

Alicent swallowed, visibly. “I can’t,” she said after a moment. 

“So you’d like me separate from all the other stuff, is that it?” Rhaenyra said a little bitterly. It was an entirely hypocritical assertion but that wasn’t stopping her from pressing forward with it, like sticking a finger in an open wound or a flame. “It’s fine when we—but the moment I want you to be a part of my life—”

“That’s the thing,” Alicent said. “I can’t be. If this is what…I don’t fit in your life.”

“Oh, come off it,” Rhaenyra scoffed. “As if you’re not—one of the poshest people I know. What, you do a manual labour job for six months and suddenly you can’t put on a nice dress?”

“It’s not like that,” said Alicent. “It’s me. I can’t—it doesn’t work for me, Rhaenyra.” Then, in a small voice: “I thought you liked me.”

It was such a pathetic thing to say that Rhaenyra wavered for a brief, awful moment between repulsion and adoration, like a pendulum swinging from one extreme to the other. 

“I do,” she said tightly. “That’s the point.”

“Could you not like me without all the—”

“The life? The life I have?” Rhaenyra interjected hotly. “No, I’m afraid divorcing me from my circumstances won’t quite be possible, Alicent—”

“Your life is not charity galas,” Alicent said. Her voice had taken on a flat, indiscernible quality, one that Rhaenyra couldn’t parse. “That’s a part of your life, which is actually something bigger and more interesting. I thought—I thought we’d agreed on that.”

“Well, we don’t,” Rhaenyra said. She wasn’t even sure what they were fighting about, really, which was ironic, and stupid. She imagined trying to explain to Laena why it was that her and Alicent were no longer whatever they were and it made her angrier, because she knew she wouldn’t be able to explain it at all, it would just be a big mess of she said and so I said and I know what I said wasn’t right but she didn’t have to be such a cow about it all.

“Okay then,” Alicent said, in that small, miserable voice. 

“Okay then,” Rhaenyra said, and walked away, and later went to the gala alone, like she had done every gala for the past three years.

“No date?” Jason Lannister asked, like he had done every gala for the past three years. 

“Not tonight, Jason,” said Rhaenyra. Then, struck suddenly by the look on his ugly handsome face, and the band that was playing a song Alicent had sent to her last week and said this sounds v nice , as if she knew a single fucking thing about music, she added: “She wanted to stay at home. She’s not much for this scene.”

“Oh,” said Jason, blinking. Then: “She?”

“Yes,” said Rhaenyra. “Now fuck off, will you? I want to dance.”

“Hello,” said Rhaenyra.

“It’s two in the morning,” said Alicent. “And raining.”

“Well, one of those is not actually my fault.”

“I need to be up in three hours—”

“Yes, to wash windows,” said Rhaenyra breathlessly, shifting from foot to foot. “I know.” Her heels were killing her. Alicent noticed, and looked down.

“Those are nice shoes,” said Alicent.

“They’re fucking painful,” said Rhaenyra. “And they’re getting wet.”

“Come and stand in the porch, then.”

Rhaenyra did. 

“Heels are why I don’t go to galas any more,” said Alicent.

“Are they really?”

“Yes,” said Alicent. “And because sometimes all you can do is rip the whole thing up and start again.”

“The thing being your life,” said Rhaenyra.

“Yes,” said Alicent. “The thing being my life.”

“I don’t care if you don’t go to galas,” Rhaenyra said. “And I think it’s hot that you wash windows, because I know you don’t want to do it forever, and that whatever you do you’ll be good at it, and hot.”

“I might do it forever.”

“That’s okay too.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just wanted you to come with me. Because I haven’t had a single meaningful romantic connection with anyone since Harwin died, and my life is literally on fire, and I thought this would be the best way to ease you gently into it.”

“I don’t think a gala is a very gentle way,” said Alicent. “More like exposure therapy. Flooding.”

“I also wanted to see you in a dress.”

A beat. Alicent peered out at the rain, beating down onto the pavement. 

“Who’s looking after the boys?”

“Elinda.”

“Okay then.”

“Okay then?”

“I think if you come upstairs,” Alicent said carefully. “I can arrange a private show.”

“Really,” said Rhaenyra.

“Really, really,” said Alicent. “And your life isn’t on fire, by the way. I mean, it’s probably a higher level of stress than most people’s, but you’ve adapted.”

“Thank you?”

“It’s actually quite a nice life,” Alicent pointed out.

“So’s yours,” Rhaenyra pointed out back.

“We’re in agreement, then,” Alicent said.

“Yes,” Rhaenyra said. She reached out and ran a finger down Alicent’s nose. “What are your thoughts on me being in love with you?” she asked in a whisper.

Alicent stilled. Her already-wide eyes—criminal, beautiful, dangerous, pitiful—widened. She let out a cough.

“I have some thoughts,” she said after a pause. 

“Care to share?”

Alicent stepped back. Rhaenyra followed her, pressing their bodies in close. 

“No, I need space,” Alicent whispered.

“For what?”

“I was going to do a mime,” Alicent told her, still whispering.

Rhaenyra laughed. “Oh yes?”

“Yes,” she said into Rhaenyra’s ear. “Four words. First word.”

“I?”

“Mm. Second word.”

“Love?”

“Hmm. Third word…”

“Washing.”

“Yes. Last word.”

Rhaenyra pulled away slightly, pressing their noses together with a grin. “Windows.”

“Exactly,” Alicent said, and kissed her.