This was inspired by a post from another tumblr user. I canât find the post, but when I do, I shall link it.
The desert stretches out in front of them like a golden ocean. When Alicent pulls in a shallow breath, the air is dry, tickling her throat. Her temples are throbbing, a layer of sweat and grime under her light clothes, her body tense and stiff on the horse. Alicent shifts uncomfortably, hyper aware of how close she is to the woman behind her. Rhaenyraâs hand is resting casually on her spread thighs, fingers wrapped around the reins as their horse plods along. Beside them, Gwayne sits on his own horse. Alicent shoots an uncharitable thought his way, remembering his apologetic look when he had told her they only had enough resources for two horses instead of three.
The sun dips lower towards the horizon, casting the sand in a ruddy glow. Rhaenyra shifts, chest brushing up against Alicentâs sweaty back. She stiffens, eyes widening as she feels the softness of the other womanâs breasts. She is entirely too close for a person that Alicent is barely acquainted with. Itâs indelicate.
Her mind casts back to their meeting, only a few days previously. The dust mots had been drifting lazily in the dim shaft of light cutting across the stone floor as Alicent slipped books back into their rightful places from her perch on the sliding ladder. Abruptly, the serene silence was interrupted, the doors slamming open. Alicent clutched the spindly ladder, heart leaping.
âSister,â Gwayneâs cheerful, round face appeared below her, another person standing at his side. âI have some marvelous news.â
âGwayne,â she snapped. âYou gave me a fright. What have I told you about disturbing me at my work?â
âApologies,â said the person beside him, tilting their head back to look Alicent in the eye.
His companion was a woman in simple archeologistsâ garb: worn trousers, a felt hat, and scuffed boots. Her hair is pulled back, blue eyes bright in her slightly tanned face. All together, a somewhat odd person.
âYour brother led me to understand you were in need of a guide?â The woman continued, eyes absorbing Alicentâs appearance in a similar fashion. She felt her cheeks heating. I wonder what she sees when she looks at me.
âThis is Rhaenyra Targaryen,â Gwayne emphasized the name, expression ecstatic. And indeed, the name was a familiar one. A highly respected family name in the field of archaeology.
Alicent started climbing down the ladder, surprised to find the other woman extending her hand when she was half way down. Tentatively, Alicent accepted the other womanâs hand, allowing herself to be helped off the ladder.
âHe said you found a map,â Rhaenyra said, palm still warm against Alicentâs skin.
And now here they are, traveling across the desert together, her hapless brother snoring next to them on his horse, the sun below the horizon, the sky a beautiful blanket of stars. Surely this is not what her father pictured for the both of them. He would be so disappointed that it was Alicent who had continued to study instead of Gwayne. And yet you still persist.
âYou alright?â Rhaenyraâs voice is soft, her breath touching the clammy skin at the back of Alicentâs neck.
âPerfectly,â she responds, voice stilted. It feels as if every conversation between them has been difficult and fraught. Alicent is hyper aware of how every word will land; what every expression on Rhaenyraâs face might mean. Itâs exhausting. How aware she is when the other woman is in the room. When she is speaking. When her eyes are on her.
âYou seem tense,â Rhaenyra continues.
Alicent can see her hands, reaching out to touch their horses' flanks. Her fingers are strong looking, skin rough and calloused. She knows from the few times they have touched. She shivers, the sweat of the day cold on her skin now in the desert night. Sheâs still warm under her breasts, between her spread legs.
âYouâre cold,â Rhaenyra pulls back. Alicent can hear her shrugging off her jacket.
âReally, you donâtââ Alicent protests, face flushing with mortification. She knows what the other woman is about.
âI insist,â Rhaenyra drops her jack loosely over Alicentâs shoulders. Itâs warm from her body, and it carries the mixture of her scent: horse, sweat, sensible soap. Very unfeminine. Father would not approve of her.
âThank you,â she says stiffly.
âYou can sleep too if you want.â
Alicent does not trust herself to sleep.
âI shall stay awake and take my rest during the day.â
Minutes stretch agonizingly slow. Sheâs hyper aware of the woman behind her. The silence of the desert, the shifting of the horse under their bodies.
âI donât think Iâve properly thanked you for accompanying us on this venture, Miss Targaryen.â
âRhaehyra,â she corrects, again. âAnd no thanks are necessary. The map your brother found is something my family has been searching for years. Seeing this through is important.â
âI take it you do not subscribe to the curse?â
âI have a great respect for legend.â
As the conversation peters off, Alicentâs eyes begin to droop. Maybe hours later, she drifts awake, a line of warmth across her belly: Rhaenyraâs arm keeping her in place. In her sleep, she m leaned back on the other womanâs shoulder, mouth open. Mortified, Alicent jerks upright.
âPardon me,â Alicent gasps.
âDonât worry yourself,â Rhaenyra says calmly. The sky is gradually starting to go from purple to pink casting the desert in an ethereal glow.
