Work Text:
It’s a stormy day in London. Alicent likes when it’s overcast—it makes going outside during the day a little bit easier. In her age, the sun had grown less harsh, but it is not entirely without its bite. She stands now in the pouring rain of the early dusk of winter, a black umbrella shielding her from the water as she stands outside of the church gates. She used to avoid this place. It reminded her too much of being human. The thought of being human used to hurt more. Now, it feels more like… yearning.
She stands outside the church, dressed in all black. The funeral procession has already left, but Alicent finds herself still there. Another friend gone. Alicent needs to stop befriending mortals. Human blood no longer tempts her the way it used to—resisting the beating pulse of a woman had once been an impossible feat. She would flirt in a bar and watch it slide along the veins of her conquests, following its path and cutting her own tongue on her fangs just to satiate herself for a passing moment. That was years ago, though, decades now. Now, she befriends mortals. And regrets it every time. This one had been an older woman she played chess with in the park.
“How remarkable, I don’t think I’ve ever met a young woman so adept at chess,” Edith would say to her when they first met. Alicent had smiled. Edith liked to play at night because there were less people. She never questioned why Alicent only roamed the park after dark. Edith’s grandchildren had thanked her for keeping her entertained—they always thought her lonely until Alicent came along. Alicent thought selfishly they had never understood the true depths of loneliness.
Alicent pries to lock on the church gate open in a show of strength that would be magnificent to anyone else yet feels like tossing a feather aside to her. The gates open and Alicent strides in, taking in the sight of the altar she had seen not long ago during the service. It has been far too long since she last confessed, though she doubts a priest sits in the booth for her now. She will have to settle for a prayer.
She prefers churches when they are empty. Alicent does not like to bear the burden of her immortal sin around the company of others. For her prayers must be beheld between her and God Himself, no one else. This is not her usual church—her own abode is on the other side of the city, but this had been Edith’s. And Alicent had not quite yet felt like going home. She closes her umbrella and shakes it off, shedding herself of her overcoat and hanging it over the pew in the furthest row back. Edith was old money, which meant Alicent found herself in a dress more formal than most of her funerals—a square neck, tea-length black dress she’d had since the sixties and her Louboutons. She used to hoard her wealth for some unknown day when she may need it, but after a couple of hundred years, she started to realize it was only going to continue accruing. Alicent pulls the pearly pin out of her hair, letting it fall down her shoulders in long auburn curls, brushing against her now bare shoulders. She keeps her gloves on as her hands trace over the pews, continuing up the aisle until she reaches the front row.
There was a long time, when she was first turned, that Alicent thought she would burn to a crisp the moment she crossed the threshold of a church. She had craved the sanctuary of it, the burning cleanse of repentance. Each and every night she took a life, but could not bear the thought of prayer. The first time since turning, decades after it happened, she crossed the line and entered a church—hoping to burn. Instead, she had lived. Now, she prayed again.
She lifts her skirt gently so she may get to her knees on the altar itself as if the proximity were an aide to her selfish need for redemption, clasping her hands and bowing her head, whispering the words aloud, “Father, forgive me, for I continue to sin by nature of my very being. I outlive another, another vain attempt at normality, the mortality I still cling to though I am centuries beyond my rightful time. It has been thirty years, Father, since I have dared drink the blood of a mortal and no longer do I crave it. I pray for the rats whose lives I steal, the stray cats that wander into my deadly path, but I dare not take the life of another mortal. This is my price, my pain.”
Before she can continue, she hears the slamming of a door. Alicent jumps to attention, rushing for the exit, but it is already too late. She is across the church in a split second, her coat in her arm, but the figure has already come into view. A young woman, tears staining her eyes, is leaving the back office. She pauses when she sees Alicent.
“We’re closed, we just finished a funeral service,” the woman speaks, straightening up and making a vain attempt to conceal her emotions the moment she realizes she is not alone. Despite the we in the statement, Alicent had not seen this woman during the service. She would have remembered.
Her hair is a blonde that is near stark white, cropped closely to the nape of her neck with only a slight messiness to it from the wear of the day. She wears a black t-shirt and slacks, but holds a blazer over her arm as if she had intended to be there for the service. Alicent can hear her pulse, a heart racing in her chest with the heat of emotions.
“The house of God should always be open to those who need it,” Alicent retorts, her voice gentle, melodic. There is an entire church stretched out between them, yet Alicent hears her heart as if it is Alicent’s own. But that cannot be true because Alicent’s heart has not beaten in two-hundred years. She had learned to drown out the noise—it made it easier not to be tempted, to not give into the mortal sin of drinking human blood. She cannot help what she is, but she would rather give herself to the sun than curse herself any longer with the damnation of murder. If Alicent still breathed, she thinks hers would hitch right now.
The woman just scrunches up her face, furrowing her brow at Alicent, “The gate was locked, how did you—”
“You forgot to lock it,” she says quickly, watching the way the woman’s expression goes slack. Daringly, she takes a step forward, dropping her spell as quickly as it began. Compulsion is another thing she rarely indulges, only when absolutely necessary. “Apologies, the gate was still unlocked, I thought perhaps I could have some time alone after the service. I’ll get out of your hair, though.”
She shrugs on her coat, tugging her hair out of her collar and reaching for her umbrella, hating the fact that her prayer had been cut short. Hunger tugs at the edges of her mind, nipping at her veins. She needs to head home and find something that will sustain her another night. Something that will distract her from the blood sliding through the veins of this handsome woman in front of her.
“Wait—” the woman pauses, holding a hand out as if she is able to stop Alicent in her path. She takes a few hurried steps towards Alicent and she resists the urge to back away. Up close, her scent is even stronger—her blood smells sweet, bitter, screaming at her as if it were ichor calling to her. Alicent resists the urge to sneer, bringing a hand to wipe beneath her nose as if that will block out the smell for even a moment. “I have not seen you in our congregation before, um, sorry, I just, I would’ve recognized you. I’m Rhaenyra, my father is the head priest here.”
“I thought priests could not have children,” Alicent narrows her eyes, eyeing the woman up and down.
“He—it’s a long story. Not really. He decided to take the vows after my mother died and he was, unfortunately, stuck with me,” the woman— Rhaenyra, explains with a wave of the hand. Alicent hears her pulse quicken. She’s nervous. If only she knew what she really needed to be worried about. Alicent was not simply a beautiful woman in search of solace, if only this Rhaenyra knew the beast that lurked just beneath the surface. Alicent takes a step back. Not that it matters, the stench of Rhaenyra’s blood is filling the entire room.
“That’s lovely,” she rushes out, “Not lovely that your mother is dead, but, well, I have always found solace in the church. I’m Alicent. Hightower.”
“Alicent,” Rhaenyra repeats, reaching out a hand. Alicent takes it to be polite, shaking it firmly and getting it over with as quickly as possible. She can still feel the warmth of Rhaenyra even through her gloves. Alicent can feel her fangs sliding out of their hiding spot, tempted by the overwhelming humanity of the woman in front of her. Alicent needs to get out of here. “Well, if you’re looking for a new church, I’d love to see you Sunday for our morning service. My father tells me we need more fresh faces.”
“I’m afraid I cannot come to morning services, I appreciate the offer, though, really, it was nice meeting you,” Alicent huffs, offering her a pursed lip smile. She’s biting the inside of her cheek so hard she can taste blood. Her eye twitches lightly. “Sorry again, for coming in when you were closed. Sorry.”
With that final apology barely off of her lips, Alicent darts through the door as quickly as she can without using her speed. She does not breathe and yet she finds herself panting anyway, hands twitching, looking for something to grab, fangs sticking out yearning for something to sink into. Alicent disappears down an alleyway, scrounging for a rat digging through the garbage. Her nails elongate, sinking into the creature as she brings it to her mouth, fangs anxious to tear. She sucks the rat dry but it is still not enough.
Blood spills down her chin and chest as rain-soaked asphalt scrapes at her knees through her dress. She digs mindlessly through the trash, listening for the sound of a beady pulse, grabbing onto the next show of life. Her teeth sink into another rat and then another—a fourth is tossed aside before she is finally satiated. Alicent tosses the final corpse onto her pile, rising to her feet. Blood stains her chest and mouth, and she wipes it into a crimson smear. She left her umbrella in the church, so rain water makes a vain attempt to cleanse her. Leave it to her to make a mess of herself miles away from home.
She sticks to alleyways, grateful when the smell of Rhaenyra finally leaves her. She can never step foot near that church again. Lord knows she will regret it. There is an oath to be kept, a promise that cannot be broken. Everything she has worked for over the past decades will not be thrown away for some beautiful woman with red-rimmed eyes and a penchant for talking too much.
It is dusk three days later where Alicent stands across the street from the church. The smell had called her back here. The ghost of Rhaenyra’s blood echoes through London and Alicent finds it intoxicating her. In an effort to prepare herself, she drained a stray cat on her way here, hoping it would satiate her enough. Even with it, though, her upper lip still twitches with the knowledge of Rhaenyra being so near.
Alicent wishes she knew why this blood was bothering her so much, why it called out to her in a way she has worked so hard to drown out. In her years since she took her oath, she has managed to reduce the call of a mortal pulse to nothing more than white noise, static in the back of her mind. She focuses instead on the pulses of other creatures around her—from rats and dogs to a bumblebee. Anything, anything besides that of a human.
She takes a deep breath she no longer needs, stepping towards the open church gate. Alicent finds Rhaenyra exactly where she knew she would be. Rhaenyra sits in the first row of pews, head bowed and hands clasped. For a fleeting moment, Alicent considers concentrating on reading her mind to find out what she prays for, but she resists the urge. Barely.
At the sound of the door opening, Rhaenyra lifts her head, turning to see the intruder. “Alicent.”
“I believe I left an umbrella here. The other night,” she says in lieu of a greeting. Moonlight pours in through the stained windows, casting streaks of silver on Rhaenyra’s face. She looks far too much like someone Alicent used to know. Alicent has not thought of her maker in a long time and as a long practicing Catholic, she does not believe in reincarnation. But the angle of Rhaenyra’s nose and the whiteness of her hair build a strong case.
“Yes, yes, it’s in our lost and found,” Rhaenyra stands, heading for the back office. Alicent is grateful for the brief respite of a closed door between the two of them. It is over too soon as Rhaenyra returns with the umbrella in hand, approaching her quickly with it held out in front of her. Alicent takes it swiftly, ready to be on her way but Alicent stops her with a hand on her shoulder. Alicent bites her lip, grateful for a layer of fabric between Rhaenyra’s touch and her cold skin. “Is that truly all you came here for? If you wish to pray, pay me no mind, really.”
Alicent turns to face her, eyes searching Rhaenyra’s face for something—maybe a bit of familiarity, but there is nothing. Just a stranger who is apparently trying desperately not to be. Alicent allows herself the pitiful indulgence of searching Rhaenyra’s mind. Please, don’t leave, not yet. Alicent blocks it out before she can hear another fragment of thought. She soon regrets it, though, as the sound of Rhaenyra’s beating pulse fills her ears instead. She should have had a couple rats on her way over as well, she should have known better.
“No, no, just the umbrella, don’t worry,” Alicent brushes her off, tugging her shoulder out of Rhaenyra’s grip though it does little to quell the aching desire within her. Never in so many years has her body felt alive in the presence of another. Alicent has forgotten what to do with it. “If I were here to pray, I’m afraid I would probably be here all night. Besides, it is past your confession hours, and I can only beg for forgiveness so many times.”
Rhaenyra just eyes her curiously, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth. Alicent watches the blood rise to the surface with the pressure before releasing once more. She resists the urge to lick her lips. “Is that all you do when you pray? Ask for forgiveness?”
Alicent nods, “I have nothing left to ask for.”
“Would you like to grab something to eat?” Rhaenyra asks, her expression morphing into one of surprise as if she herself had not expected to let the question fall from her lips. “My father will close up and I—if you are not here to pray, then there is no use being here, hm?”
She needs to say no. She should say no. Everything about this is a terrible idea and Alicent knows she should have never come here in the first place. “I just ate, thank you, though.”
Alicent goes to leave, but Rhaenyra follows her. “A walk, then. It’s a nice night for one.”
“What is it you desire, Rhaenyra?” Alicent asks, pausing half over the threshold of the church. “I am not someone worth befriending, I assure you. You are much better off just forgetting about me.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” Rhaenyra jogs to catch up with her, shoving her hands in the pockets of her jacket. “I think, in fact, that befriending you might be the best thing that can happen to me. It is fated, anyway.”
“Is that so?” Alicent needs to stop indulging her. Rhaenyra could blink and Alicent could run away, so quickly Rhaenyra never sees her move. Even so, she matches her pace.
“I prayed for your return,” Rhaenyra says with a shy smile, “And sure enough, here you are.”
“It is selfish to ask such simple things of God,” is all Alicent says in return. Her hands hang loosely by her sides, brushing against the edge of her coat. The coat, really, is only for appearances. Alicent desperately misses the icy burn of the cold. She misses feeling anything at all. “The daughter of a priest should know better.”
“You wound me.”
“I do not know you enough to wound you, truly.”
“Let’s change that, then,” Rhaenyra nudges Alicent with her shoulder. The smell of her is surrounding, the drumbeat of her blood echoing in her ears. She needs to get away from her before she does something drastic. She is not going to sacrifice everything she has been striving for over the last thirty years because some flirty mortal won’t leave her alone. “Did you know I tried to be a priest when my father took the vows? They don’t let you, when you’re a woman, not really. You’re sort of considered excommunicated. It’s probably for the best, though.”
“And why is that?”
Rhaenyra shrugs, “A vow of celibacy is kind of a lot to ask for me. That’s partially why I wanted to do it, though, just to see if I could.”
Alicent lets out a snort at that. “I have found that self-control is an important skill to have. One you apparently lack.”
“Maybe,” Rhaenyra hums, a slight bounce in her step as she walks alongside Alicent. It is taking everything in her not to pounce with each beat of her heart. Alicent’s hands clench into fists as they walk. “But at least it means I can still flirt with beautiful women who step into the church after hours.”
Alicent pauses in her step before she can help herself. Rhaenyra comes to a stop as well, biting her lip softly as she looks Alicent up and down. “Rhaenyra, I assure you, anyone else in this city is a better fit for you than I.”
“Who said I was talking about you?” Rhaenyra’s actions contradict her words as she takes a step closer to Alicent. She can hardly hear anything over the beating of her heart. Alicent’s eyes widen, feeling her fangs begging to be set free. It’s taking everything in her to control them, to control herself. She remembers how ravenous she had felt, searching for rats in an alleyway in the pouring rain. She cannot allow herself to be reduced to such tatters once more. Rhaenyra, though unknowingly, seems content to put her there yet again.
“Rhaenyra,” Alicent breathes out, her voice strained. Alicent looks up at her, putting a hand out in a vain attempt to create space between the two of them. They stand at the mouth of an alleyway. It would take two seconds for Alicent to tug her into the shadows and drink her dry. Two seconds to throw thirty years of restraint down the drain.
“Tell me no, then,” Rhaenyra hums, sounding overconfident as she presses even closer until Alicent’s back rests against the brick. It has been thirty years since Alicent last dared to take a mortal lover. She has never been tempted since, not until now that she can feel Rhaenyra’s hot breath on her chin. She wonders if, with the proximity, Rhaenyra will notice she does not breathe at all.
Alicent lets her get closer, still the same fool she has always been and always will be. In the shrouded shadows of a London city street, she lets Rhaenyra kiss her. It has been decades since Alicent last allowed herself the fancy of a mortal lover—it is important to remind herself why she stopped in the first place. Even so, she allows herself the moment’s indulgence of Rhaenyra’s lips against hers, right there on the city street. The street light casts a warm glow on Rhaenyra’s face when she pulls back to look at Alicent, brows stitched together in worry as if she fears she’s done something wrong. Alicent resists the urge to read her mind, instead letting the woman tell her things on her own.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s alright,” Alicent sighs, bringing a hand to cup Rhaenyra’s cheek. The woman’s hands are still on her waist and it was not until she had it again that Alicent realized just how much she missed the touch of someone else.
Rhaenyra brings her hand up to cover where Alicent’s is against her skin, “You’re so cold, here, you can borrow my gloves if you need to.”
She’s in the process of removing her gloves when Alicent draws her hand back so quickly it seems as if she’s been burned. She worms her way out from against the wall, desperate to create some space between the two of them. The closeness combined with the taste of her lips is making Alicent hungry, starving for the blood coursing through Rhaenyra’s veins. Her eyes watch it travel, following it through Rhaenyra’s body. She blinks, forcing herself to focus on Rhaenyra’s face. “No, no, I’m fine. I just have poor circulation, really, it’s alright. Rhaenyra, listen, you’re very sweet and I—I don’t date. For good reason. I mean it when I say you’re better off far, far away from me.”
“I have a hard time believing that,” Rhaenyra says, reaching out for Alicent’s arm. When she pulls back this time, though, Rhaenyra seems to take it for what it is. She relents, shoving her hands in her pockets as if that is the only way she can resist touching Alicent. Alicent misses the warmth—it’s been so long since she felt warm. “But I understand, I’m sorry. I promise I’m not usually this forward, I just—something about you.”
Alicent huffs out a small smile, her heightened senses filled entirely with Rhaenyra, Rhaenyra. “Yeah, tell me about it. This was lovely, you’re lovely, truly, I cannot see you again. I’m sorry, I really am.”
She takes off down the sidewalk before Rhaenyra can get another word out, walking as normally as she can and resisting the urge to speed off into the night. She turns a corner and heads down into a metro station, using the flush of people to drown out the smell of Rhaenyra still haunting her. Once she feels calmed down enough, she surfaces back into the city and heads home. A hand comes to her lips, still chasing the ghost of Rhaenyra’s taste. Rhaenyra can’t see her. But that doesn’t mean she can’t see Rhaenyra.
The closer she gets to home, she dips into her own church, craving the respite of prayer. Harwin, a friend of hers that does not quite know what she is, but knows she often requires the church late at night, will leave a key for the side door under the mat for her. It makes things immensely easier because she doesn’t like breaking and entering. Breaking into Rhaenyra’s church was an off day for her. She was sad about Edith—she still is. Funny, one of the mortal emotions that has never been able to die for her is grief. There is an irony in there somewhere.
Unlocking the door, she heads into the main sanctuary of the church, settling down at the altar and bowing her head in prayer. “Father, I pray that I will resist this unholy temptation and maintain my oath to never do harm to another human being so long as I shall live. I understand you have sent me a challenge and I will, I will pass this test. Please.”
Alicent cannot remember the last time she begged. Her prayers become incessant and desperate, mindless muttering of a madwoman at the altar of a dark, empty church. When she is finished, she mutters an amen and stands. Distantly, she hears a mouse rattling around in the walls of the church. Her eyes narrow, ears perking up as she chases it through the walls until it reaches its entrance. Just as the mouse is about to scurry across the floor of the aisle, Alicent grabs it, bringing it to her mouth. The blood does not taste as sweet as she knows Rhaenyra’s would be, but as she spills it on the altar below her, she pretends it is all the same.
She watches Rhaenyra lock up at night. It’s been weeks and she knows she’s being insane, but if God has sent her a challenge to test her resistance to temptation, then she is going to figure out why. It is certainly not because during her morning rest she crafts entire dreams of what might happen should she allow herself to indulge in the taste of the woman’s lips. To taste the ichor in her veins, to tear her throat out and watch her blood soak the pavement. It is raining in London again and Alicent has her umbrella out, watching as Rhaenyra locks the doors to the church and closes the gate on top of it. They got a new padlock. She wonders if Rhaenyra ever clocked her white lie or if the compulsion made her forget about it altogether.
As Rhaenyra takes off towards the metro, Alicent follows at a distance. She knows this is insanity—but there are little hobbies to be had as a vampire and so long as Rhaenyra does not see her, this should not be an issue. It is a petty infatuation that will pass soon enough, that is all. Alicent still prays every night, both in church and at the side of her coffin which makes it slightly more okay. Every night she reinvigorates her oath, keeping it alive as best she can no matter how often her mind lingers on what it would be like to have Rhaenyra all to herself. She isn’t sure if she wants to kill her or sleep with her or both. All she knows is she needs her.
A couple of blocks in, Alicent realizes she is not the only one following Rhaenyra. There is a shadow that protrudes out of an alleyway, a man brandishing a knife. Alicent perks up, knowing she shouldn’t intervene. Surely, Rhaenyra—a grown woman living in the city, knows how to defend herself.
“Your wallet,” the man grunts out as he approaches Rhaenyra, pressing the knife against her side. Alicent’s nose perks up at the first rush of blood as Rhaenyra’s heartbeat quickens.
“Fuck, man,” Rhaenyra grits out, her breath shaky as she frantically searches through her coat pockets. Alicent allows herself to get a little bit closer, curious to see how this is going to play out. Rhaenyra pulls something out of her pocket, pepper spray, Alicent thinks. She attempts to spray it, but it isn’t working.
Alicent watches as the man goes in with his knife, but he doesn’t get the opportunity to break Rhaenyra’s skin with the blade. Alicent has already dragged him into the same alleyway he came from, the first brush of human blood in thirty years now on her lips. She doesn’t care, she can’t bring herself to. She should stop—he’s incapacitated, but he can still heal and recover without Rhaenyra getting hurt. He’s passed out, his blood soaking Alicent’s chin and chest in her desperate fervor. She needs to stop, but she can’t. It’s too late. Her teeth are sinking into his throat and tearing. Alicent spits the flesh out onto the asphalt, tearing herself away from the body, scrambling until she is pressed up against the brick wall of a building.
She digs her fingers into the bricks until her fingernails start to split, resisting every urge in her body that is telling her to go back to this man—who is now choking on his own blood, eyes wide, hands clambering for something, anything that will save his rapidly shortening life. Rhaenyra was not the test, Alicent realizes, only the pawn. And she failed. Not only has she drank human blood, but she has taken a life.
Shakily, Alicent stands. Blood coats the bottom half of her face and down her chest. She was not wearing a coat tonight, despite the weather, which means blood is now spilling all down her neck and over the top of her blouse. She liked this blouse, too. She watches as he takes his last breaths, hearing his heartbeat slow and slow until it reaches its eventual stop.
Still shaking, watching the remnants of his blood spill out onto the asphalt, Alicent turns to the mouth of the alleyway where Rhaenyra now stands. Her back is illuminated by the street lamp, casting an eerie shadow across her face. Not that it matters, Alicent’s eyes are accustomed to the dark. She can see that Rhaenyra is staring right at her with wide eyes. Beads of sweat form on her forehead and neck and Alicent is watching her heart beat and beat and beat and beat.
“Go.”
“You’re, you’re—”
Alicent takes a daunting step towards her, eyes wide and no doubt terrifying considering the sheer amount of blood on her right now. “Do you want to die? You see what I have done to him? Run. Get as far away from me, please—”
Rhaenyra doesn’t listen. Why is she not listening? Alicent is crying. Which is, of course, only going to make this worse considering her tears are not salt water but crimson streaks of blood falling from her tear ducts. She frantically tries to wipe the blood off her mouth, only smearing it and making it worse as she crumples against the wall. She takes heaving breaths she knows she does not need—old human habits die hard, especially with human blood now coursing through her veins.
Slowly but surely, Rhaenyra approaches her. She approaches with the stature of someone trying to corral a stray cat, one hand out in front of her as she crouches down to Alicent’s level, eyes meeting hers in the dark of the alleyway. “It’s alright. It’s okay. You’re a vampire. Totally cool.”
“Rhaenyra,” Alicent breathes out, “This isn’t a game. I cannot control myself right now, please.”
Rhaenyra reaches out and brushes a hand against her face, wiping away a bloody tear. Alicent watches her with wide eyes, unsure of what to do. Every instinct in her body is telling her to latch her teeth to Rhaenyra’s neck and drink until she is as pale and blue as the man beside them. The small, human side of Alicent that remains wants to grab Rhaenyra and press their lips together.
“It’s okay, Alicent,” Rhaenyra repeats like some kind of mantra, like a prayer, almost. “You saved my life. Do you understand that? He was going to kill me. You did a good thing.”
Alicent whimpers, shaking her head as she turns away from Rhaenyra only to be faced with the sight of the corpse in front of her. She falls onto her knees, her hand falling into a puddle of blood. “This is not a good thing, it is never a good thing. I have… my oath, I have broken my oath, you do not understand, Rhaenyra. I swore I wouldn’t… I could never. Not again.”
Rhaenyra pulls her back by the shoulder, kneeling half in the puddle of blood with her as her hands grip Alicent’s wrists, forcing her to look her in the eyes. She’s so close, so warm. Alicent licks blood off of her own lips, she wishes it were Rhaenyra’s. “It’s alright, Alicent. Look at me. My place isn’t far from here—”
“I know,” Alicent breathes out before she can stop herself. “Sorry, I’m just making this worse.”
“Stalked by a vampire is honestly not the craziest thing that’s happened to me,” Rhaenyra brushes her off with an easy grin, but she’s forgetting Alicent knows her heart, she can hear her pulse racing. Rhaenyra is scared of her. She hates that Rhaenyra is scared of her. “We’ll take you back to mine and clean you up, okay? You can tell me whatever you want, but we have to get out of here because it will not be a good look if we’re caught standing next to this guy.”
Alicent shuts her eyes tight until she sees stars, nodding frantically and letting Rhaenyra pull her to her feet. She feels pathetic—she’s a failure and she knows it. She’s failed. Years, decades of work down the drain. She feels useless in Rhaenyra’s grip, a ragdoll to be thrown around.
They take alleyways back, careful to avoid any well-lit streets. It doesn’t matter if anything shady awaits them, Alicent would leave a trail of corpses behind if it meant Rhaenyra was safe. A terrifying thought. Back at Rhaenyra’s apartment, she unlocks the door before turning nervously to Alicent. “Do I have to like… invite you in?”
Alicent’s response is to brush past her and breeze over the threshold. Her hands are crusted with blood so she’s careful not to touch anything as she and Rhaenyra climb the stairs. Her pulse has slowed, but Alicent can still smell her sweat. Even so, Rhaenyra is clearly putting extra effort into not appearing as scared as she actually feels. Alicent just feels numb.
“Stay there,” Rhaenyra says once the apartment door is closed and locked behind them. Alicent just stands there in Rhaenyra’s small living room, covered in blood, listening as Rhaenyra draws a bath. She’s done nothing to deserve this kindness, Alicent knows this, and yet she cannot bear to reject such kindness. So, she stands there and wrings her fingers. After a moment, Rhaenyra returns. “Okay, let’s get you cleaned up.”
Alicent follows her into the bathroom where a warm bath is slowly filling up. Rhaenyra is eyeing her nervously and Alicent can practically feel the question on the tip of her tongue. Eventually, though, she gets it out asking, “Do you want me to go?”
Alicent just shakes her head. She’s been alone so long she cannot bear to be alone right now. With shaking hands, she unbuttons her bloody blouse, kicking off her boots before shoving her slacks to the floor. Rhaenyra is very pointedly looking away until Alicent is in the water with her knees hugged tight to her chest. The once clear water blooms red as it seeps from her skin. Alicent continues to cry.
“Why don’t you tell me about something,” Rhaenyra offers, sitting beside her with one arm braced against the ceramic edge of the tub, chin held up by her palm. “It can be anything. It doesn’t have to be about… this.”
Alicent huffs, a small, sad smile managing to form on frail lips as she says, “It’s kind of an elephant in the room.”
“A little bit.”
“I’m not going to kill you, Rhaenyra.”
“I know.”
“Your heart is racing,” Alicent comments, eyes flicking to Rhaenyra’s chest. “I can hear it.”
“You’re naked in front of me,” is all Rhaenyra says in response, earning a small chuckle from Alicent. “I think any reasonable woman’s heart would race from such a sight.”
Alicent shakes her head. “You barely know me. Why are you helping me? You were scared, I could feel it in that alleyway. I feel it now. You gain nothing from helping me besides putting your life in more danger than it already was. So, why?”
“I don’t gain nothing,” Rhaenyra defends. Her eyes watch the blood swirl in the water, “I have you. Exactly where I’ve wanted you ever since I kissed you. Granted, I didn’t think there would be this much blood involved. So, talk to me. I want to know more, please.”
She sighs deeply, relenting her wishes since Rhaenyra has already done more than enough for her. “I was turned in 1806. Not… unwillingly. I was supposed to marry this man, a miserable thought, but it would have made my father happy and it was… what was always expected of me. I couldn’t very well tell my father why the thought of bedding down with a man repulsed me… we didn’t have those sorts of words back then and even if we did, it was unspeakable. She had been watching me, the woman who would be my maker, she could feel my pain, sense the grieving I was doing for myself. She offered me a way out and I took it. She was… my first real love. My first heartbreak.”
“What happened to her?”
“I don’t know.” Alicent bites her lip, hesitating. “We were together for about forty years and then we weren’t. She left, but I could always feel her. It’s—when someone creates you, they give you a piece of themselves along with it. It was as if a piece of her heart had stitched itself to mine, we could have been continents apart, but I would still feel her and then… then I didn’t. I didn’t feel her anymore. That was a hundred years ago.”
Rhaenyra reaches out, brushing more bloody tears away. Alicent hugs her knees closer to herself. “And the human blood thing…”
“I had a lover,” Alicent starts before she can stop herself. She has never spoken this story out loud, but the words come to her naturally as her eyes rest on Rhaenyra. “She was mortal, but she knew what I was and she didn’t care. It was… a relief. I could sustain myself on her and I would not have to take the lives of men or feast on rats, it was everything. Human blood is… there’s nothing quite like it. Animal blood will sustain me fine, but I feel stronger when I drink from a human, more alive. More mortal. It’s strange. There was this one night, though, I got into a fight—it was the eighties and there were… Well, I’m sure you know, cops would raid the sorts of bars I frequented and it was dangerous, and we knew it was dangerous. I was reckless. I had gotten into a scrap with some cops and had to fight my way out, but I was already hungry and after that I was… I was starving, like I hadn’t been in decades. She offered to help me, to let me take what I needed from her and then I just took and I took, and—”
Alicent pauses, gulping down her own grief in a vain attempt to continue the story. “After that, I told myself two things. I would never take another mortal lover and I would never drink human blood again. I wouldn’t… I couldn’t allow myself such a stupid heartbreak again.”
When she looks up, Rhaenyra is just watching her. Absent-mindedly, Alicent begins rubbing at the blood stuck to her chest and shoulders, trying to get it off. She doesn’t care, she’ll rub until her skin is raw and begging. She needs this reminder of her sin gone.
“But you broke that. To save me,” Rhaenyra whispers as if reminding herself. “I’m sorry, you should’ve just let me handle it.”
“He was going to kill you,” Alicent shakes her head. “If you knew the things I know, the senses I have… there was no other way. I couldn’t watch you die. It’s funny, though, I really thought the blood that made me break my oath was going to be yours.”
She meets Rhaenyra’s eyes, hearing the stilted breath fall from her lips. There’s still a fair amount of blood coating Alicent’s skin, including the freshness of her tears, but there is not an ounce of disgust on Rhaenyra’s face. Only desire. Somehow, this is more troubling to her. Rhaenyra’s eyes dip down to her lips, still stained with blood. The first press of their lips is a delicate one. Alicent isn’t sure who properly leans in first, just that their lips meet in a tentative kiss, shy in nature, which is ironic given Alicent’s current state.
Even so, the kiss soon grows desperate as Rhaenyra shrugs her jacket off of her shoulders, tossing it to the tiled floor. Alicent rises half out of the bath so she can kiss Rhaenyra deeply. Water mixed with blood drips from her forearms as she reaches for Rhaenyra, tempted to tug her into the water with her like some kind of siren.
“This is—we shouldn’t,” Alicent shakes her head, pulling back and retreating back into the water. “I have… I have ruined enough of myself for one night, I cannot give into this temptation as well.”
“You don’t, you don’t have to,” Rhaenyra mutters softly, cheeks flushed. Alicent watches the blood rise to the surface and fizzle out, dissipating back beneath her skin. She can’t stop watching it, she tries to blink it away but she can’t. She’s not even hungry, not anymore, but something about Rhaenyra is screaming at her. Feed, devour. Rhaenyra opens her mouth to say something, but pauses when she sees Alicent. She’s panting like a hunting animal, far too close to her prey for comfort, resting on her haunches in the water as if about to pounce. Rhaenyra draws in a stuttering breath. “I want you to, though.”
Alicent nods slowly, “I know. I can feel your lust, your desire, everything. I watch the blood slide along your veins, I watch every change it makes. I hear it in your heart. It calls to me, it deafens me. I do not know what you have done, why you have done this to me.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Rhaenyra argues, though there is little heat to her statement. “I just… I just like you.”
“Even like this?” Alicent offers. She rises from the water, blood and water mixed together on her skin. Rhaenyra scrambles back against the bathroom tile, eyes crawling hungrily over Alicent’s form as she reaches for a towel, drying herself off and trying to get more blood off in the process. She’ll buy Rhaenyra new towels, she doesn’t care. “I am going to chew you up and spit you out, Rhaenyra. It is all I know how to do. All I can do is destroy.”
Rhaenyra watches her from the floor as if she were some kind of god. A pitiful thought. “I don’t care. Destroy me, devour me, do whatever you want with me. I have not stopped thinking about you since we met, you have plagued my mind, my every dream, every waking thought. I prayed for you, Alicent, I prayed to you.”
With this, Alicent kneels down in front of her, the towel half draped across her lap lazily. Rhaenyra backs up with her back against the now abandoned tub. Alicent reaches out, fingering the pulse point in Rhaenyra’s neck. Even though she can hear it, she still gets a rush from feeling it beneath her fingertips. She closes her eyes, breathing in the scent of her, relishing in the feeling. She has already broken one oath tonight.
“You can have it,” Rhaenyra whispers. The fear is gone from her voice and perhaps that is the most terrifying thing for Alicent. She cannot feel her anguish or her nerves any longer, just Rhaenyra’s lush desire. “I know you’re thinking about it, just take it.”
“What did I literally just tell you?”
“I’m not her,” Rhaenyra breathes out, her hand coming up to grip Alicent’s wrist where her fingers remain on her neck. “And you’re not who you were then. Take it, Alicent.”
Alicent can feel her fangs crawling out of her gums, unable to resist the offer on the table. She feels starving for something else—something she has not known in a long time. She starves to be seen. To be truly understood. Something she has not allowed herself to have in decades. Her grip on Rhaenyra’s neck is strong, but it doesn’t matter because the woman isn’t resisting her. She is instead tugging Alicent nearer, a hand on the nape of her neck, dragging her into the distance between them.
Alicent moves her fingers from Rhaenyra’s pulse point, tangling them instead in her short crop of hair. It’s a flash of a second before her teeth are sinking into Rhaenyra’s neck. It’s just as glorious as Alicent knew it would be. It is the sweetest ambrosia to have ever met her lips. She struggles to get every drop she can, trying not to spill. She’s careful not to take too much, always careful.
Rhaenyra moans beneath her, head thrown back against the edge of the tub in pleasure. Alicent pulls back for a split second and that’s all the time it takes for Rhaenyra to be on her. She grabs her lips in a messy kiss, Alicent’s mouth still covered in Rhaenyra’s blood, but she doesn’t seem to care. Alicent kisses her deeply, testing the depths of her starvation as she presses forward. She pulls back only to yank Rhaenyra’s shirt over her shoulders, blood from her wound spilling down her now bare chest. Alicent drags her tongue along Rhaenyra’s skin, getting every drop she can.
“We can—” Rhaenyra pants out, “Bedroom. Bed.”
Alicent laughs, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand before licking the blood off that as well. “We’ll destroy your sheets.”
“Don’t care,” Rhaenyra just shakes her head, pulling herself to her feet and tugging Alicent up with her. She’s remarkably steady on her feet and Alicent cannot help but pride herself a bit on holding back. Maybe Rhaenyra was right. Maybe she is different. “I need to fuck you properly, Christ, I’ve been thinking about this. I thought you just didn’t want me, that I was being stupid, but—”
“Of course, I wanted you,” Alicent huffs, pushing Rhaenyra back into her bedroom and struggling to undo her pants in the process. Rhaenyra helps her, tugging them down and stepping out of them before pushing Alicent back onto the mattress. It has been ages since Alicent last indulged in a mattress, of all things. “I wanted you so badly it made me sick to my stomach. I wanted you dead. I wanted you like this. I wanted all of you.”
“You want me dead?” Rhaenyra asks, raised eyebrows like the idea almost excites her. She thinks briefly that Rhaenyra was not sent by God to test her, but by the devil himself to tempt her into the eternal flames. The worst part of it all is that it’s working.
Alicent hums, lips brushing over the spot she had torn into Rhaenyra’s neck. She watches the wound close over itself and she yearns to tear into her once more.
“I have thought over and over and over again about sinking my teeth, right here—” She emphasizes it by pressing down on the pulse point, the skin surely sensitive judging by the way Rhaenyra gasps above her. “And tearing out your throat, over and over. I want to watch your blood rise to the surface and spill out, I want to taste it until it goes bad, until you have heaved your last breath.”
Rhaenyra settles on her lap, her underwear being the only barrier of clothing between them. If Rhaenyra is scared at all, Alicent can’t feel it. Instead, Rhaenyra runs a finger down Alicent’s neck, tracing lines of blood still left on her skin. “You’re so cold. When was the last time you felt warm, Alicent?”
“When you kissed me the first time,” she breathes out, sounding almost wistful as she remembers the memory. “You make me feel human, Rhaenyra.”
“I like you like this,” Rhaenyra hums. Her thumb rests on Alicent’s bottom lip, prompting her to open her mouth. She does so and Rhaenyra’s eyes light up at the sight of her fangs. She runs her finger along one of the sharpened canines, pressing down until it breaks skin. Without thinking, Alicent closes her lips around the bleeding pad of Rhaenyra’s thumb and sucks. There it is—just as sweet as the first time.
Alicent presses forward, tugging Rhaenyra closer to her as if they were not close enough. Rhaenyra’s hand dips between the two of them, trailing a line down Alicent’s stomach. Alicent lets out a strangled gasp as Rhaenyra’s fingers dip into her slick folds, just barely skirting around her clit and teasing her entrance. Alicent groans, resting her head against her shoulder, hands frantically tearing at Rhaenyra’s hips to keep her close. In her fervor, her nails form into their claw-like state, creating divots in Rhaenyra’s skin, but she doesn’t seem to mind given by the moan she lets out.
“God, I’d let you kill me,” Rhaenyra breathes out, opening her eyes slightly to peer down at Alicent. “Maybe when I saw you in that church, that was Him sending me my death, but I don’t care. I welcome it, I welcome you. Take it, take whatever you want.”
Alicent does not have it in her to deny it any longer. She bares her fangs and sinks her teeth into the flesh of Rhaenyra’s shoulder, the moan she lets out music to her ears. Rhaenyra presses two fingers inside of her and Alicent gasps, losing her grip on Rhaenyra for a moment. She takes the opportunity to lick up the spilled blood now cascading down Rhaenyra’s chest, though she cannot focus on it much longer with the gentle pumps of Rhaenyra’s fingers. She finds herself gasping for air she does not need, her grip on Rhaenyra becoming staggered.
It has been so long since she allowed herself the simple pleasure of a warm body, she finds herself not quite knowing what to do with it. She buries her face in Rhaenyra’s neck, one hand clinging to her nape as the woman presses her against the mattress. She relishes in the pleasure of Rhaenyra inside her, slowly picking up the pace as if testing Alicent’s limits. If only she realized just how strong Alicent really was.
Her eyes slip open, watching Rhaenyra. Blood stains her chest, some of it in the tips of her white-blonde hair. Her lips are stained with it from kissing Alicent. Bathed in the slivers of moonlight coming in through the curtains, Alicent thinks it might be the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. All thoughts of her oath abandon her as a new God seems to form right in front of her eyes.
Rhaenyra fucks into her with three fingers, watching Alicent writhe against the mattress. For a creature so strong, Alicent feels helpless beneath her—a beast; tamed. Pleasure builds within her, coupled with Rhaenyra’s blood thrumming in her veins, she knows she will not last much longer. She tugs and scrapes at Rhaenyra’s hips as the woman presses her down into the mattress, content to have her way with her.
Alicent’s orgasm hits her all at once—overwhelming in the best sort of ways. She tugs Rhaenyra closer by the nape, smashing their lips together. She bites into Rhaenyra’s lip until she tastes blood, selfishly taking more for herself in case this is the last she ever gets to taste of it. She does not know how Rhaenyra will feel come morning, but she is determined to make this night last.
Rhaenyra kisses down her neck and chest, vain attempts to suck bruises into her fair flesh that will be gone by the time they are made, but Alicent cannot bear to stop her. She pulls her fingers out and rests a hand around Alicent’s thigh, settling on top of her with bated breath. Alicent licks desperately at her lips and neck, feeling more animalistic than she has in years.
“The night we met,” Alicent whispers against her skin, “I scrounged in an alleyway, draining as many rats as I could find. I was desperate for you, I couldn’t ignore the stench of you.”
Rhaenyra chuckles, grabbing Alicent’s chin with a strong hand. She brushes a drop of blood away from the corner of her lips. “Was it everything you thought it would be?”
“More,” she sighs, tugging Rhaenyra closer and yanking at her underwear. She shifts until Rhaenyra is beneath her. “So much more.”
She settles between Rhaenyra’s legs, a gentle hand brushing against the unmarred flesh of her thigh. It does not last that way for long, though, before Alicent’s teeth sink into the supple flesh, biting softly and drinking only a little before sealing the wound once more. Rhaenyra watches her with a strangled grasp, one hand tangled in the mess of auburn curls.
Alicent dips her tongue into Rhaenyra’s cunt, craving the wet warmth of her. Rhaenyra is soaked and Alicent is content to devour every last drop of her. Her tongue swirls around Rhaenyra’s clit, drawing the prettiest moans from her throat as her nails dig into where she holds her steady by the thighs. She feels like a woman possessed, determined to make Rhaenyra writhe with pleasure beneath her. The hand gripping her hair only fuels her. She moans against Rhaenyra’s cunt, tongue dipping into her entrance, teasing the sensitive area as her nose bumps her clit, keeping pressure exactly where she knows Rhaenyra will want it.
Rhaenyra doesn’t last long, not with the high she gets from being bitten, but Alicent continues even as she feels Rhaenyra clench and pulse beneath her. She revels in the taste of Rhaenyra as it is offered to her, desperate to understand every single moving part of her body. Rhaenyra tugs her up by the hair and into a kiss that Alicent accepts willingly, content to let Rhaenyra drag her along as much as she wants.
“Fuck,” Rhaenyra breathes out once they separate, panting beneath Alicent.
“You’ve got a terrible mouth for the daughter of a priest,” Alicent can’t help but chuckle, falling down onto the mattress beside her. Rhaenyra’s blood is caked beneath her fingernails and Alicent finds herself licking them clean like a dog with a bone. God, she missed human blood.
“I think there are worse Catholics in the room,” Rhaenyra hums, turning to give Alicent a pointed look. “These sheets are fucked.”
“I warned you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Rhaenyra sighs, reaching for Alicent’s waist. “Can you stay? Will the sun in the morning…”
“Just make sure the curtains are closed,” Alicent whispers, trying to hide her shock at the question. Rhaenyra gets up right away—(shaky on her feet, Alicent notices with a bit of pride), tying the curtains shut and making sure the blinds beneath them are tugged down as well. It doesn’t matter as much, the sun in London is so dull this time of year anyway, it would likely not be much more than a mild irritant through a window. “You’re sure you want me to stay?”
Rhaenyra gets back in bed, tugging Alicent close to her as if she had never left. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t. It’s almost morning, anyway, I don’t want you to risk going home.”
Alicent pauses, propping herself up with one arm against the mattress as she looks down at Rhaenyra. “Why? You are risking so much for, what? A feeling?”
A hand comes up to trace the line of her jaw. “Isn’t that the nature of faith? To trust in what you do not fully understand?”
Before she can respond, Rhaenyra sits up and kisses her. Alicent accepts it willingly, letting it deepen slightly before pulling away once more. Rhaenyra scoffs, “Alicent. Do not worry. I am here. I see what you are and I do not care. Take that for what it is and stay. Please?”
Alicent has little fight left in her. Unfortunately, the human part of her still craves to be seen, to be understood and loved anyway. She nods, falling back against the pillows and letting Rhaenyra draw her near. They find each other’s lips in the quiet dark and for now, it is enough. It is enough to be held by the arms of someone warm, someone who still has life in their veins. Alicent breathes her in, falling asleep to the thrumming of Rhaenyra’s pulse.