Chapter Text
Alicent curses as her car shutters when it turns off. The godforsaken thing has given her nothing but trouble. And now it's winter, which certainly doesn't bode well for an old VW Golf held together by duct tape and prayers. She's not used to this. At all. Until a few months ago, Alicent Hightower was used to fancy SUVs, to being driven around instead of having to lug this pile of metal garbage through the streets. She'd grown up in plain luxury, never a care in the world about money. Being born into one of the biggest tech companies of Kings Landing would do that to you. She'd been destined to take over one day, at least that's what her father had kept telling her. Her godforsaken father. How could a man be so smart and powerful yet so vindictive at the same time?
It all came crashing down on a warm summer's day in the villa that Alicent had grown up in. One of her father's incessant garden parties was in progress and of course as the good daughter/CFO of the company, she had to attend. Wearing a dress she felt uncomfortable in, Alicent kept up the smile her father had drilled into her for many years while conversing with industry executives that bored her. Although those old farts might still have been preferable to who her father brought over next. The son of some business partner of Hightower Inc. It hadn't been the first man her father tried to connect her to. But it would be the last. Alicent had had enough. Maybe it was the two glasses of wine in her system, or it was the pent up energy from years of the kind of abuse that never shows outside of her own mind. Maybe it had been the snide comments Otto offered every time Alicent tried to talk about someone she was seeing. The way her father sneered at the TV when a report about queer rights came on.
Alicent had screamed. All heads in their garden turning as she spat the words into her father's face.
“I'm GAY .
A lesbian .
A fucking dyke . .
I only like WOMEN !
Why would I ever be interested in this pasty asshole !?”
It had felt so good . At least for a moment. Seeing her father's twitching face, his embarrassed glances to the guests. Telling him what's been boiling in her mind for years. Alicent had run away then, grabbed a few things before fleeing to Laena's. Her sister was the one person in their family that understood. She'd held Alicent through crying fits, offering soft words of encouragement.
A few days later a truck arrived in front of Laena’s apartment, unceremoniously dumping the remaining parts of Alicent’s life on the doorstep. Clothes, decorations and books had been haphazardly thrown in boxes. The next day, all her accounts got locked up. No access to her credit card or healthcare. It had all run through her father's company. She had gone from the very top to basically being homeless over the stretch of less then a week.
Alicent’s dry chuckle echoes through the confines of her car at that thought. Her father truly did it in record time.
Laena had of course offered her to stay, offered to give Alicent money, to help her to get back on her feet. She refused, at least initially. Because Laena was still close to their father and still worked for his company. Alicent had accepted the fallout of her actions but she couldn't bear dragging her baby sister into it as well. So she accepted the bare minimum to survive and immediately began applying to jobs. The journalism degree her father had paid for came in handy for the first time in her life. She had practically no experience in the field, but Alicent had her last name. She was still a Hightower even if the hiring agents didn't know she had been disinherited.
What Alicent didn't expect was the KL Times basically chasing her for an opening in their economics department. She'd felt entirely inadequate on her first day. Alicent had never even been a real journalist. But if it paid the bills, she wouldn't complain. After a few months into the new job, Alicent had moved from Laena's spare room into a modest apartment. It wasn't anything compared to where she'd been before, but it was her own. And that suddenly felt very important to her.
The car had come in a similar way. Not great, constantly breaking down, but it was hers. She had set her eye on a much better one, until the letters began to fly in. Her father had started to bill her for various things related to her old life. Drivers, plane tickets, the economic fallout from her non-standard resignation as CFO. Laena urged Alicent to fight it and get a lawyer. But in the end they both knew it would be useless. Their father had more money than a king, and would gladly set his army of legal experts on his own daughter without a second thought. So Alicent accepted that she'd be in debt for a while. A price she happily paid for being out of Otto’s grasp.
Alicent takes a deep breath, picking up her bag and coffee before stepping out into the cold winter morning. As usual, the driver's side door needs two slams to fully close. She grimaces and takes a deep swig of coffee.
Her little green Golf looks completely out of place in a parking lot populated almost entirely by black SUVs and fancy sports cars. She turns to the looming high-rise throwing deep shadows onto the assembled vehicles. A massive sign about halfway up displays a golden dragon curling around tastefully lit up letters.
Targaryen Industries .
Alicent almost has to laugh. TI had been the enemy for so long, her father's main competitor in the quickly growing tech space of Westeros. Otto would have probably legitimately killed to get the kind of access Alicent was getting today. But she isn't here as CFO anymore, she is here as a journalist. The thing she'd actually wanted to do, before her father had decided otherwise. And probably the more important reason, she is here to interview the new CEO. Her boss had frothed at the mouth when the chance presented itself, drilling Alicent about how important this opportunity was.
Alicent has done her research of course, although she quickly stumbled over several roadblocks.
Rhaenyra Targaryen was an enigma in many ways. Oldest daughter of the tech mogul Viserys Targaryen and his chosen successor. She was pegged to inherit the company some day, but no one expected that day to come when she was but 35. Mr. Targaryen had died from an aggressive form of cancer, killing him mere months after it was discovered. At least that's what the family had released to the public. Some of Alicent’s colleagues didn't believe it and the KL Times' investigative division has spent a lot of time digging into it. But the Targaryens were a secretive bunch. Alicent hadn't even found an up to date picture of the woman she was supposed to be interviewing today. Only several paparazzi shots in front of nightclubs from years ago. The woman had a certain energy to her, at least in the pictures. Silver white hair and purple eyes would get anyone noticed.
Alicent has made her way to the entrance, eyes briefly lingering on just how high this bloody thing goes. If high-rise office building was a dick measuring context then Targaryen Industries had definitely beaten the Hightowers.
The receptionist is kind, handing Alicent a visitors badge before pointing to one of the elevators. It travels quickly, yet still needing close to a minute until the door opens again with a ding . The office that Alicent steps into is not what she expected. She’s used to gaudy whites and silvers, to the overdesigned modern mess that is her father's headquarters. This place was wholly different. Her heeled boots fall on carpet instead of cold fake laminate, the walls adorned by real dark wood panelling . The whole place was lit in low tones, feeling almost comforting for the office of a billionaire. A secretary greets her warmly, offering a comfortable chair to wait in before asking if she would like anything to drink. Alicent gestures with her coffee to-go mug and says thank you.
Alicent’s knee keeps bouncing as she waits. Her eyes wander around the space, getting stuck on the paintings. Almost all of them show women, some in various states of undress. Certainly not what Alicent expected. But the new CEO seems to have quite an interesting taste in artwork. She pulls out her notes to calm the incessant knee bouncing. The sparse info on her interview subject is paired with a series of questions. Some are her own, while others were imposed by her boss. One of them she has already struck out with pen strokes that press a little too far into the paper.
Did your father really die of cancer?
Alicent had quickly lost her ideas about the Times being a prestigious and storied newspaper. Just like everyone else in print journalism they were struggling and thus trying more bold things to stay relevant. Including, apparently, tabloid level questions.
Alicent quickly glances at her phone. 10:14 . She's not used to people this high up the corporate ladder being late. Certainly could be interpreted as a bad sign for this new CEO if they’re late to their own interview. Alicent smiles at the good morning text from Laena wishing her luck for the interview. Sometimes she still wonders what she did to deserve her. Alicent certainly wasn't the best sister at first. Her mother's death had left a void in their home that Otto desperately tried to fill. First with a rotating cast of women that kept trying to be Alicent’s friend. She was a teenager back then, so that was futile. And then her father suddenly announced he wanted to adopt a child from one of the orphanages his company supported. Alicent only learned years later that this was a blatant PR move to smooth over waves coming from a Whistleblower report about the inner workings of the Hightower company. Alicent had been apprehensive immediately when the plan was announced. Because she knew who the burden of raising this child would fall on. And it certainly wouldn't be Otto.
But instead of a screaming child, the person that Otto brought into their home one cold early year evening was barely a year younger than Alicent. Her apprehension lasted barely a few days. For the first time in her life, Alicent had a true friend. Someone she could trust and even tell about the way Otto treated her. In turn Alicent taught Laena how to best appease their father and play the proper daughter. It seems that with time, Laena got even better at that than her.
“Miss Hightower?” The secretary’s voice pulls Alicent from her mind. She quickly gets up, throwing another glance at her phone. 10:20. Twenty minutes late to their own interview. What kind of amateur runs this company? She'll soon find out, that's for sure. Alicent is led down the length of the hallway, seeing more tasteful half naked women on the walls. That's definitely going in her article. After a sharp right turn she is greeted by the sight of two bodyguards in black suits. One has a shaved head and grey beard while the other’s wild brown locks are tied in a bun. The latter approaches her with an apologetic smile as he brandishes a handheld metal detector. “Just protocol, my apologies”. Alicent nods in understanding while taking another mental note. This certainly gives some credence to the questions about the former CEOs cancer diagnosis. Even companies of this level usually don't frisk journalists in such a way. After a once over with the metal detector and a quick glance into her purse, the security guards let her and the secretary pass into the office behind them.
The room is expansive, dominated towards the back by a heavy dark wood desk. Floor length windows behind said desk offer a magnificent look of the Kings Landing skyline. A seating area with comfortable armchairs and a small table stands to the left. There's bookshelves on both side walls, filled with literature the person occupying this office probably has never read. But it makes them look smarter. Not that Rhaenyra Targaryen has any need of that, as Alicent quickly realises.
“Thank you Talya,” a melodic voice says from halfway behind a computer screen. The secretary nods and leaves to close the door behind her. “My deepest apologies,” Rhaenyra continues as she rises to her full height. “A call with one of our subsidiaries in Bravos went longer than expected”.
Alicent nods with a small smile. Her mind is far too busy to form words at this very moment. Miss Targaryen is wearing a slate grey three piece suit with a white shirt and red tie. It's expertly tailored to flow inwards just along her waist, further accentuating the woman’s hips. Her silver white hair is cut short on the left side while the rest falls wildly on the other side. She has an intrigued smile as she rounds the table. “Rhaenyra Targaryen,” she begins and offers a hand. “If it's ok for you then please just say Rhaenyra, I don't need any more people making me feel old with Miss Targaryen”.
Alicent takes the offered hand and experiences another small surprise. The touch is soft, yes, but less so then she would have expected from a woman born into luxury. “Alicent Hightower,” she manages to blurt out despite the energy radiating from the person in front of her. Rhaenyra gestures to the seating area, hand ever so briefly resting on Alicent’s back as they walk towards it. She sits down, fumbling with her purse to extract her notes and recording device. Rhaenyra opens her suit jacket and sits down with the kind of easy swagger that makes Alicent involuntarily clench her thighs slightly. Focus you gay disaster, she thinks, you're working . Rhaenyra’s eyes briefly rest on Alicent’s visitor badge, which just so happens to sit right next to the tasteful neckline of her blouse.
“Hightower, huh?” Rhaenyra seems slightly amused, shifting around in her chair. “If I didn't know any better I would scream corporate espionage since that's a name I've been taught to have a physical reaction to”.
Alicent frowns slightly and leans forward in her chair. “Well that feeling is somewhat mutual in regards to names. But I no longer work for my father's company”.
“I know, you've been thoroughly vetted”. The tiny smile Rhaenyra adds to her statement makes Alicent pause. Just how far had she been vetted? Far enough to find the post she'd made for pride, the one that got all of her family members to unfollow her.
“I figured,” Alicent replies, trying her best not to wilt under the intense gaze of lilac eyes piercing her. She puts the recording device on the table between them and waits for a nod before pressing the start button. She straightens up and glances at her notes. “Miss Targaryen, firstly thank you for agreeing to this interview”.
“My pleasure”.
“To start us off I would ask a question that I'm sure a lot of our readers are very interested in. You're one of the youngest people to ever become CEO of a Fortune 500 company and the first woman at the very top of one of the most valuable companies in Westeros. What does this mean for Targaryen Industries and the wider tech space?”
“Well,” Rhaenyra begins with a practised smile, “I guess what you're implying here is that I'm some kind of trailblazer which while yes, I am the first in multiple ways, this is not news by any means. I have been my father's chosen successor for many years now so I would say that this change first and foremost means continued stability for the company. The stock price has rallied after a short dip and our latest sales figures are as strong as ever”.
“Your father led this company successfully for almost three decades, how does it feel to step into his shoes, and so suddenly?
Alicent can see a small twitch in Rhaenyra's eyebrow before she responds. “It has certainly been an adjustment for all of us. Not least of which myself. But I'm very thankful for the board and leadership team that have made the transition smooth and easy”.
“New leadership in a company this size can often mean changes, sometimes quite fundamental ones. Do you see Targaryen Industries changing under your leadership and if so, in what direction?”
“Well, any change takes time and effort. Right now our focus is on the stability of the company and our subcontractors. But in the long term, I am committed to keeping TI at the forefront of technological innovation. My father was very focussed on physical goods like our headphones line and tablets. I see a lot of potential in digital services. To this end we have opened a new division specifically focussed on this topic and also on producing video games”.
“Huh,” Alicent replies with a raised eyebrow, “an interesting thing to focus on. Are video games something you're personally interested in?”
Rhaenyra chuckles at that, beginning to take off her suit jacket as she responds. “I dabble, when I have the time. So as you can imagine that's not very often”.
Alicent inhales sharply as Rhaenyra slowly rolls up the sleeves of her shirt, revealing colourful tattoos that sit like a golden frame around a beautiful painting. The way her fingers wrap the sleeve speaks of intent. Alicent’s thighs squeeze together involuntarily again, quickly crossing her legs to hide the movement. Her voice comes out slightly shakier than she wishes on the next question. “Some of your competitors have questioned your ability to lead this company. Do you have anything to say to them?”
Rhaenyra’s laugh is curt, nevertheless ringing in Alicent’s ears like a symphony. “Just because you played golf with my father doesn't mean you know anything about me or this company. If you think I'm not suited to lead TI, well then try and beat us!”
Alicent’s eyes keep wandering to Rhaenyra’s forearms, tracing along the flowers on her left side and the lounging naked woman depicted on her right. The new CEO has a really interesting taste in artwork. “In the past you were known as quite the playboy, a favourite topic of the paparazzi. In recent years that seems to have changed. What happened?”
“I did not expect such a question from the Times,” Rhaenyra retorts, face suddenly falling into something more serious.
Alicent considers for a moment before pressing the pause button on her recording device. “As I'm sure you're aware, unfortunately print media is struggling. Hard economics don't get sales. But what will always fly off the shelves is tabloid headlines”.
“I understand,” Rhaenyra replies as the recording device is reactivated. “There was certainly a time I took life less seriously, but I think that is quite common in anyone that age. We grow, we learn, and I don't regret who I was back then. It's just not who I am anymore”.
Alicent nods as if on autopilot. She's still struggling with the tattoos, with the way Rhaenyra rolled up her sleeves, with those bloody lilac eyes that won't stop galavanting along her body. “Well, uhm,” she begins, “my final question is somewhat related to the previous one. What would you say about several papers calling you the most eligible bachelorette in Kings Landing at the moment?”
Rhaenyra grimaces at that, softening slightly when Alicent throws her a knowing look. “I would ask them why it matters that I don’t have a public partner. I’m sure these kinds of questions wouldn’t be asked to a man in my position”. There is a pause as Alicent reaches for the recording device. “Those have all been very well read off questions Miss Hightower, but I couldn’t help think that none of them were really your questions”. Alicent’s nod has an embarrassed note as she averts her gaze. “Why don’t you ask me a question you want to know?”
Alicent leans back into her chair, eyes darting to the notes on her lap. “Taking over your fathers position basically immediately after his death must be incredibly tough, seeing his image and memory still everywhere around you, when you’ve had barely any time to grief. What is your method for dealing with all those feelings?”
Rhaenyra purses her lips slightly, fingers rubbing along her forearm. “I have…..several ways to get my mind off things. Different types of exercise mostly. A good bit of sweating after a long day helps with unwinding”. There is more in these words that Rhaenyra does not say out loud, a clear double meaning that Alicent is not blind to. Especially with the way Rhaenyra’s fingers flex slightly at those words. “And I’ve also visited a therapist regularly. There should be no shame in seeking professional help and I would encourage anyone reading this to do the same if you feel it necessary”.
“Well, aren’t those some fine words to end the interview on”. Alicent is desperately trying to regain her professional persona after the clear double entendre from Rhaenyra, after the way she disarmed her with a simple question, after those fucking forearms. The recording device clicks off and a tiny bit of tension escapes the room.
“You should have led with that last question”. Rhaenyra leans forward and slightly tilts her head.
“As you rightly recognized, most of these weren’t mine. This interview was deemed too important to leave it just to me”. She smiles awkwardly, continuing to struggle under Rhaenyra’s lilac gaze.
“Well they really should have,” Rhaenyra replies with an earnest smile, “that one question was more interesting than the past five interviews”.
“Huh, I did not expect you to be such a prolific friend of the press”.
Rhaenyra’s earnest laughter at that statement doesn't serve to help Alicent’s focus. “Oh I'm nothing of the sort. It was simply an idea of our PR department. To soothe the waves of….of my father's passing”.
It's the first moment of vulnerability Alicent notices in the CEOs otherwise steely and well composed exterior. “It seems like you never found real time to grieve in between all this. I'm very sorry about that”.
Rhaenyra’s face twitches again as she fixes Alicent with an intent glare. “I assume you're saying that outside of your capacity as a Times reporter?”
Alicent faces Rhaenyra’s gaze with a comforting smile. “I don't need to be a reporter to see that you're in pain. And you deserve kindness, no matter my position”.
“Well,” Rhaenyra begins, squirming slightly in her chair, “thank you for your kind words. But now I think our time is up”. Alicent realises that she probably overstepped the mark slightly with her final comment. She rises with Rhaenyra, accepting another polite handshake before being led to the door. “Thank you for time,” Alicent carefully says, shaken by the sudden shift in Rhaenyra's demeanour.
“Thank you,” the CEO replies. And then the door falls shut behind Alicent.
*****
“Ali, how are you getting on?” Laena’s voice is careful as she pokes her head in through the bathroom door. Alicent groans, aggressively rubbing along her eye with a makeup wipe. This is the third time she's fucked up her eyeliner. There's an industry event tonight that, as one of the economics journalists of the Times, Alicent can't miss. Although she wishes with every fibre of her being that she could. Because her father will be there. And despite their fallout, despite all the anger she harbours for him, having to suddenly face him again still opens a deep pit of despair in her stomach. Laena will be at the event too as part of the Hightower company, so Alicent had gone to her place to get ready. Her sister is in a cream coloured suit and white shirt as she tries to put on a comforting face. Gods Alicent wishes she could wear something like that. But the only fancy piece of clothing she managed to rescue from her old life was this emerald green dress with golden stitching running along the arms and chest. The colour feels almost mocking as it screams Hightower.
“Come here Ali,” Laena says softly, taking the eyeliner from Alicent’s hands and steading her head. She pencils in two sharp wings before pulling Alicent into a tight hug. “You don't have to go tonight, if it's too much”.
Alicent tries with all her might to not begin crying right then and there, after her sister had just done such fine work around her eyes. “But I do. My boss would have far too many questions if I didn't show and I can't afford to lose my job now”.
“If that's what you think is best,” Laena replies, clearly not fully buying Alicent’s argument. “Whatever happens, I'll be there, ok?”
“Laena…..” Alicent sighs and squirms slightly. “You know how vindictive he is. I don't want your life to go to fuck just because mine is currently there”.
Laena holds up a warning finger as she stares down Alicent. “Don't. We're not gonna start this discussion. If he wants to throw me out too for daring to still love you then so be it”.
“But what of Baela?” Laena’s four year old daughter was currently fast asleep in her room. A friendly older neighbour would soon arrive to watch her while the two sisters went to the event. Baela had been the result of a one night stand, Laena choosing to keep the child against their father's insistence. Those months had been tough, marked by screaming matches and lots of angry staring across the dinner table. But apparently back then, Otto Hightower couldn't afford the PR fallout of kicking out his own daughter. Oh how times have changed.
“She would be fine, we would manage,” Laena insists. “Did you eat any dinner?” Alicent shakes her head in embarrassment. She'd tried to, but the little bit of pre packaged grocery store salad had ended up right in the toilet a few seconds after eating it. Laena takes her hand and heads to the kitchen, where Alicent eventually manages to keep a couple pieces of plain white toast down. Better than nothing. They warmly greet Baela’s quasi grandma before making their way downstairs to the taxi. Alicent’s knee keeps on bouncing the entire way, her fingers digging red grooves into where she's holding on Laena’s arm. When they arrive at the fancy hotel in the centre of town, Alicent is about ready to throw up again. All the fancy cars stopping around them to drop off the rich and powerful just adds to her nausea.
Her fingers are still digging into Laena’s arm as they make their way into the warmly lit ballroom. There must be hundreds of people here from all around the Westerosi tech space. CEOs, journalists, startup tech bros trying to get funding, the gang's all here. Alicent sees many familiar faces amongst the crowd. Most of them seem to look at her with either ignorance or outright disdain. It makes her sick how all these people are so beholden to her father. She eventually manages to convince Laena to mingle a bit, since her sister is technically here on company time and can't just stay by Alicent’s side the entire time.
Alicent finds a quiet corner to hide in, nursing a glass of champagne while desperately hoping her father wouldn't show tonight. She chats with a couple of her colleagues when they arrive but mostly stays out of the way. Alicent feels deeply stupid the entire time. She doesn't need to cower any more before her father. She's not 16 anymore, coming home too late with hickeys all over her neck, having to explain how the female friend from school she went studying with wasn't just a friend. She wasn't 20 anymore, when her first serious relationship ended because of the relentless sabotage of her father. She's an adult woman with her own job and apartment, no longer reliant on the whims of a cruel man. But despite that, she's still scared. So when she begins to wander around the room and almost immediately sees Otto Hightower’s face turn towards her, the pit of despair in her stomach starts to expand rapidly.
“Alicent,” he says in a voice that could almost be called soft. “I did not expect to see you here”.
“Well, I'm here”. She grits her teeth, fingers digging into the sides of her dress.
Otto smiles warmly and all of the sudden Alicent is a little girl again, desperately searching for approval and praise from her father. “I'm glad to see you are well”.
“No thanks to you,” she mumbles under her breath, feeling a pounding heartbeat in her throat.
“Everyone in the office misses you Alicent”. She almost wants to laugh at what her father focuses on. The company, the office . “And Martin has not been scared away, despite your rather juvenile display at the garden party. I could always arrange a new dinner for you two”.
Alicent wants to laugh. She wants to scream. Wants to show her father how much every word out of his mouth hurts her. But she can't. The scared little girl at the centre of her heart only ever wanted Otto’s approval, his kindness, his love. Even though that was never going to happen, she can't help yearn for it. Her eyes begin to fill with tears, shallow quick breaths escaping her lips.
“Alicent!” The familiar voice washes over her, replacing a bit of the panic swirling around her mind. A hand rests softly on the small of her back and Alicent sees silver white hair next to her. “Is this man bothering you?”
Otto huffs and crosses his arms. “Excuse me?!? I am her father!”
“And?” Rhaenyra’s voice is cold and firm as she fixes Otto with a stern glare. “That gives you even less of a right to make her feel this way”.
“We were just having a conversation and frankly I find your meddling here rather childish, Targaryen. Do you think you'll gain some kind of victory by standing between me and my daughter?”
“Mister Hightower, I honestly don't give a damn about you. All I saw was a person in pain who needed help”. She glances to Alicent afterwards, almost like asking a question.
Alicent closes her eyes, breathing out hard and feeling into the soft touch on her back. “While I thank you for your offer, I must simply decline. If you ever wish to have a relationship with me, your real daughter, not the idealised version you've made up in your head, then you know how to reach me”. She turns away from the face that had dominated her life for so many years, almost running away towards one of the corners of the room. She feels the soft touch on her back persist the entire way. When Alicent is far enough from her father she buries her face in both hands and screams. Rhaenyra is still with her, not pulling her hand away.
“Thank you,” Alicent mumbles through her fingers, feeling them already wet with tears.
“You said something about pain and kindness earlier today and I felt inspired''. Alicent chuckles wetly at that, rubbing her eyes to stop the tears. Rhaenyra holds out a napkin which Alicent gladly accepts. She takes a moment to actually look at the CEO. Rhaenyra’s black suit is joined by only a white shirt, wearing no tie despite the rather formal event. Alicent’s eyes get stuck on the pendant hanging in between opened buttons. It's a simple flower petal captured in amber. “What was going on back there?” Rhaenyra’s fingers are drawing comforting circles along Alicent’s back. “If you want to talk about it”.
“Ugh I, he, it's a mess. We had a falling out, as you probably realised while vetting me. And just then he effectively offered me a way back into the fold. If I did what he wanted me to”.
“And that would be?,” Rhaenyra asks, glancing across the ballroom to where Otto stands.
Alicent can't help laugh slightly, the sound coming out pathetic and snorted. “Go out with the man he chose. Preferably get married”.
“Oh”. Rhaeynra’s contorts into an emotion Alicent can't quite place. “It never ceases to amaze me how some parents still think they can arrange who their children love”.
“It's not even the arranged part,” Alicent replies before blowing her nose into the napkin. “It's the man part. He's known long enough that that's not where my interests lie”.
Rhaenyra lets out an anxious hiss, cocking her head slightly. “What an awful man. I'm so sorry. And I don't just say that because he happens to be my company's biggest rival”.
“Strange how those things sometimes shake out huh?” Alicent feels herself calm slowly under the soft touch of Rhaenyra's hand.
“Alicent I,” Rhaenyra begins, a rare bout of anxiety flashing over her fair features. “I wanted to apologise for how the interview ended. I reacted too harshly. You were just trying to be kind. And especially now that your day doesn't seem to have gotten any better”. Alicent tries to brush it off with a dismissive hand gesture, but Rhaenyra seems rather determined. “I would like to make it up to you. With a dinner perhaps? Make up for both my behaviour and the terrible evening you seem to be currently having”.
Alicent feels an unwelcome amount of warmth collect between her thighs. “That is, that's very kind. I just don't know how professional it would be to accept that”.
Rhaenyra nods and bites her lower lip slightly. “There are no strings attached. I'm in no way attempting to influence what you write. Just wanting to take a bit of the pain away with some good food and wine”.
“Ok, yeah, that, that'd be nice”. Alicent’s voice is entirely too high for own tastes as she replies. The gentle touch on her back and those caring lilac eyes are making it very difficult to focus on Rhaenyra's words.
“Is the address you gave as part of the interview request still up to date?” Alicent nods a bit too quickly. “Good, then I shall pick you up at Seven. Are you here alone tonight?”
“No I, I'm here with my sister. Just need to find her. Thank you again, for intervening back there”.
“My pleasure,” Rhaenyra replies, finally stopping her movements against Alicent’s back. She almost whimpers as the feeling fades. “I will see you tomorrow then