Not Everyone, Not You @klarkekomtrikru - Tumblr Blog

Jul 27

heaven's a thing pt.2 | actress!alicent x director!rhaenyra (18+)

read pt.1 here / fics masterlist / read on ao3

summary: Reconnected after years, Rhaenyra and Alicent decide to go on a writing retreat in Sunspear.

author notes: this is pt.2 for my modern!au rhaenicent fic. you can read pt.1 here! I used to think this would be a 3-parter, but after writing it for a while I think it'll be closer to 4. there's a lot of things to untangle lol

it's gonna be a bit messy (this is your warning!) but it will be happy at the end, I promise. if you like angst and yearning, you might enjoy what is about to unfold

content notes/warnings: rhaenyra targaryen x alicent hightower, rhaenyra targaryen x harwin strong, rhaenyra and harwin are engaged in the present (for now lol), modern!au, slow burn, masturbation, fantasising, alcohol, closeted characters, ANGST, yearning, past breakup, friends to lovers to exes to ???????, a little bit toxic!, cheating (on harwin... i'm sorry), plot with smut, mention of death because of an old myth, no beta read

word count: 3.4k words

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Rhaenyra could feel her heart beating in her throat as she stood there, at the entrance of the hotel bar.

It wasn't their hotel–her and Harwin's–but an address Alicent had sent over. It must be where she was staying. It was a bit further from the Pentos city centre and the festival hub, for which she was the slightest bit grateful. It meant fewer prying eyes; that was good, though she wasn't trying to keep the meeting secret.

She told Harwin about the text from Alicent over lunch: he seemed a bit surprised, but their conversation from the night before seemed to have soothed his nerves.

'You made some really good stuff together,' he said, as he sipped his coffee.

I made my best stuff with her, thought Rhaenyra. They had talked about this before; Harwin knew of Rhaenyra's insecurities about returning to film. What used to be her home turf now felt like she was an oddly shaped puzzle piece, trying to force herself into a picture where she didn't belong. And the worst part was that she had missed it; she missed working in film so much. But what she hoped–that making this new movie would bring that joy back to her–so far proved false.

She soon realised that truly, what she missed was working with Alicent.

Yes, there were all the tangled, murky feelings in her heart, the ones that she preferred not to think of to save herself from an existential spiral. But there was also the aching feeling that she had just never, ever felt as in her element as when she was creating things with Alicent. Rhaenyra missed that; when all the other layers fell apart, she just missed making things with someone who understood her mind so deeply.

'See what she wants,' Harwin suggested, putting his cup down. He watched Rhaenyra, who was rolling an olive piece back and forth on her plate, deep in thought.

'You think so?' she asked.

'If you want to,' Harwin said.

The thing is, Rhaenyra knew she wanted to, just not whether it was a good idea. It was one thing to miss the creative spark they had, but what kind of Pandora's box was she about to open by trying to get it back?

But Gods, she was tired of feeling so lost.

'Alright, I'll meet her,' she said, and downed her spritz. She took out her phone and finally typed her reply to the two messages she had been staring at for the entire morning.

So that's how she found herself later that day at a chic hotel in Pentos's theatre district.

She spotted Alicent immediately. Her deep red hair cascaded down her back, and an olive silk dress hugged her form, leaving her back exposed. She was sitting at the bar, facing away, but Rhaenyra could have recognised her anywhere without even getting a glimpse of her face.

'Welcome to The Regent. May I help you find the perfect seating for tonight?' the hostess smiled at her.

'Thank you. I'm meeting someone at the bar,' Rhaenyra said, disliking how small her voice sounded.

She walked over to Alicent, slowing as she got closer.

Alicent was talking to the bartender, chin resting on her hand, listening with intent. She had this way of making people feel like they were telling her the most interesting story in the room. In front of her was a glass of red wine. The bartender looked up and shot a welcoming smile at Rhaenyra, which prompted Alicent to turn around.

'Rhaenyra,' Alicent said, a smile spreading on her face.

'Hi,' Rhaenyra laughed softly and walked closer.

Alicent got off the stool and pulled her into an embrace, and what Rhaenyra was most afraid of–that seeing Alicent again would be painful– it all dissipated that second. This… this felt familiar. It felt true.

'I'm happy to see you,' Alicent said when they released each other.

'It's good to see you, too,' Rhaenyra replied, averting her gaze.

'What would you like? A martini?' with a knowing smile, Alicent was already turning to the bartender, 'A dry martini, please, on my tab.'

'You remember,' Rhaenyra said when the man turned away to fix her drink.

'Well, some things don't change.'

'Yes...' Rhaenyra chuckled, gesturing at the glass of red wine in front of Alicent.

How many nights they'd spent, dancing and laughing with a drink in hand.

Rhaenyra used to love making Alicent laugh; sometimes so hard that the drinks in their hands splattered everywhere.

She used to love pulling Alicent closer to kiss the spilt wine drops from her fingers, her hands, her wrists...

Gods. Get yourself together.

Rhaenyra let out a quiet huff. Perhaps this was going to be harder than she thought, after all. To her luck, the bartender placed her martini in front of her right then. She took a sip from the drink; the kick of it sent a warm wave through her body, which she hoped would help her calm down.

'What's so funny?' Alicent asked with a half-smile. She examined Rhaenyra, fingers playing with the stem of her wineglass.

'Nothing, just... strange. To be here with you.'

'Not in a bad way, I hope.'

'No! In fact, it's good. It's good that you wrote. It made me... happy,' Rhaenyra cringed as the words left her mouth. It felt like she was stringing sentences together in a language she didn't yet know well enough.

Alicent just looked at her, smiling. After a few seconds, she asked:

'So… how have you been?'

Rhaenyra told her about the plays she had directed at the Roseroad Theatre; then they spoke about The Long Night, the movie that had Alicent sweeping up all the major awards in the previous season. Even though Rhaenyra had not been to many film industry events for years, she did hear about them.

Thankfully, as the minutes went by, talking got easier. Rhaenyra felt herself loosen up; perhaps some of it was the martini, but she was also glad to note that even with their… complicated history… there seemed to be a lingering familiarity between her and Alicent. She was glad that it wasn't lost.

'I was actually at your premiere,' Alicent admitted.

'Not my best work,' Rhaenyra replied. After a moment of hesitation, she decided to add, 'Those were with you.'

It was true, and she wanted Alicent to know. When Rhaenyra worked up her courage to meet her eyes, she saw that Alicent was smiling.

'I heard you're engaged,' Alicent's gaze fell to the ring on Rhaenyra's finger. It was a beautiful piece, an heirloom of the Strong family.

'Yes,' as she said it, Rhaenyra caught herself trying to get a glimpse of Alicent's feelings on that. Fuck's sake, stop that, she tried to command herself. Why would it matter what Alicent thought?

'Congratulations,' a quick smile from Alicent, akin to the ones she'd flash cameras on the red carpet…

'Alicent–'

'Listen, I...' Taking a deep breath, Alicent inched her hand closer on the bar. Rhaenyra felt her pulse quicken as she noticed the small movement.

'Okay. So the reason I wanted to talk to you is because… I don't want to be strangers. I saw you at the social the other night, and I just thought it can't be that we just do this for the rest of our lives,' said Alicent.

Rhaenyra remembered how she ducked away the night before. She felt her face get hot.

'I'm happy for you. And I missed you. Okay? I don't know where we're at, but... if you are not against it, let's not be strangers?' Alicent's chest rose and fell, failing to hide her quickening breath.

Rhaenyra watched the smiling actress's mask crack: in front of her was the person she had missed for so long.

'Yes. Okay,' she breathed, smiling back at Alicent, 'I don't want to be strangers either.'

'Okay, good,' Alicent let out a sigh that mixed with a laugh.

As they both sat there, basking in the strangeness of it all, Rhaenyra thought she hadn't felt so content in a long time.

Not much changed when they returned to King's Landing. Rhaenyra went back to taking calls and meetings all day, and Harwin soon flew out for a competition in Yi Ti.

Rhaenyra was so busy she barely thought of the past weeks until one day, during one of her meetings with Mysaria, her phone chimed with a text message. She glanced at it, and her pulse quickened when she saw the name.

ALICENT–1:44PM visited the godswood in the eyrie today… look what i saw

A picture immediately followed the text: it was of a white marble statue of a weeping woman. Pretty, Rhaenyra thought, a bit unsure why Alicent sent it to her… then her eye caught on something. She zoomed in on the picture to see the name carved at the foot of the statue: Alyssa Arryn…

'What is it?' asked Mysaria, her eyebrow raised.

'Oh, nothing. Just Harwin,' Rhaenyra said, placing her phone face down.

She had an uneasy feeling that Mysaria saw right through her, but they talked no more of it. Mysaria spent the rest of the meeting going over the pros and cons of each distribution deal for Rhaenyra's movie. Rhaenyra could barely focus; she hated to admit it, but she couldn't care less about it all. Her thoughts kept slipping to Alicent's text, and the weeping marble statue…

When she got home, she immediately ran to her office and began to scour through her bookcases. Plays upon plays, dog-eared from all her annotations; her favourite classics, collected from thrift stores all over town; no, she had to look somewhere else.

She grabbed a ladder and climbed up to the attic. It took her another hour to look through her books in all the boxes, when she finally found it: a tattered book with yellowing pages. On its cover, it said:

Alyssa's Tears a ballad

It was an age-old myth of how the waterfall of the same name in the Vale came to be. According to it, a woman named Alyssa Arryn saw her loved ones killed before her but did not shed a tear. When she died, the gods cursed her to not know rest until her tears reached the earth of the Vale of Arryn.

Alicent and Rhaenyra were obsessed with the story when they first met. They toyed with the idea of adapting it together, but could never figure out where to start. Why did Alyssa not cry? Perhaps her heart did break, despite what others saw from the outside. Or if it didn't–what made her that way? Who was this woman whose lack of tears angered the gods so? The ballad, though lengthy, never talked about that.

Rhaenyra spent the rest of that night re–reading it and discovering all the notes she'd made in the margins years before.

At first it was just a text message here and there, of an exhibition in town they thought the other might like, or a show they'd seen.

Then after a while, a few throwaway lines of a producer Rhaenyra couldn't wait to see less of, or a co-star Alicent wished to strangle. It was light; just sharing bits of their lives, for amusement. Rhaenyra was growing more aware of the questioning looks Mysaria shot at her, but decided to ignore it. She wasn't doing anything wrong, after all.

'You working on something new?' Harwin's voice snapped her out of her bubble.

Rhaenyra looked up at him with a surprised look. Then she saw the small book in his hands; the dog-eared, yellowed little thing she dragged down from the attic a few weeks back. It had colourful sticky notes sticking out from within its pages now.

'Ah,' she scratched her head. She hadn't told anyone about it yet.

'Oh. Sorry, didn't mean to pry,' Harwin put the book back down on the sofa, where he found it.

'That's okay. Um, yeah. I am… sort of. Working on it, I mean,' she said, walking over to grab the book.

'Theatre?' Harwin asked, and Rhaenyra shook her head before she could catch herself. At that, a surprised look spread on Harwin's face.

'Well, I mean, I don't know yet, but I might make it a screenplay…' she said, while fidgeting with the small book in her hand, 'I haven't told Mysaria yet.'

'Good, that's great,' Harwin said as he looked around the living room. 'Well, I'll let you work on it then,' he pressed a quick kiss on Rhaenyra's lips before he left their apartment.

There was a pang in Rhaenyra's chest as she stood there, seeing him walk out the door. She sort of wished he'd asked her about the screenplay she wanted to write. She realised that all those weeks working on it by herself, she was buzzing with ideas–and that the need to share it with someone was threatening to burst.

She shook her head. She'd gone to Harwin before when an idea struck, and most times ended up worrying that she bored him with her tangled-up thoughts she herself couldn't seem to undo.

But now, she finally felt a familiar excitement about this new project, and she couldn't let it slip from her hands.

She took out her phone and dialled Alicent's number.

'Hello?' Alicent's voice chimed on the other end.

'Hey, it's Rhaenyra. Sorry, is this a good time?'

'Yeah, of course. I just got home. How have you been?'

'Good, good. Not much out of the ordinary… well, that's actually not true,' Rhaenyra held her breath. Okay, here we go. She always felt nervous sharing something new.

'Well, okay, tell me!' even over the phone, Rhaenyra could hear the glint of interest in Alicent's tone.

So she did; she told Alicent about how the photo she had sent of Alyssa Arryn's statue reminded her of the ballad they used to love. That she found her old notes in the attic and that she was considering picking the project back up.

'I used to love that ballad,' Alicent mused. Rhaenyra could tell she was smiling on the other end. 'There's something so painful about it. Everyone's always talking about how beautiful this weeping statue of her is, or how mesmerising the waterfall looks. But I just think it's so sad. Not in a romantic, melancholy way. She feels like a sad, angry ghost to me. Alyssa in the ballad, I mean.'

Rhaenyra caught a glimpse of herself in the windows; it was getting dark outside. She didn't even notice that they'd been talking for over two hours. It was through her reflection that she noticed; she was smiling.

Then, Alicent's voice came through the line:

'We should do it together.'

A week later, they were in Sunspear, at a rustic rental overlooking the city's old district. They booked it for a week; it was serendipitous that the timing worked out. Alicent had just finished a press tour, and Rhaenyra, currently in-between things, was able to inform Elinda and Mysaria about the spontaneous plan. She told Harwin too; though as she leaned against the terrace's archway, sun-warmed tiles under her soles, she felt guilt begin to eat at her insides.

She didn't tell either of them that she wasn't going to Sunspear alone.

On one hand, she didn't want any judgment. She truly did work best when away from distractions–and this was a story she could only crack with Alicent. They began it together, many years ago; she couldn't have taken it and done it alone.

But another voice whispered in her ears, too, and she heard it as she looked over the gates at the orange trees peeking out from afar.

You know why you can't tell Harwin, or Elinda, or Mysaria about this. Come on now. You don't have to lie to yourself, too…

Rhaenyra looked down and noticed she had begun to pick the skin off her fingers again. It was a bad habit, but she always noticed too late, before she could get a hold of herself. She looked over at the pool; Alicent was sitting at its edge, cooling her feet, notebook in hand. She was scribbling something.

Perhaps that's what she should do too, Rhaenyra thought; get started on work and stop agonising over her morals.

Alicent was right; it didn't take Rhaenyra long to get in the flow of things once she was away from distractions. They were up early and working through their notes; they were so deep in discussion that they forgot to eat lunch. It was late in the afternoon when the growling of their stomach was no longer possible to ignore. They ate cheese, olive bread, and oranges from the trees, and washed it down with some wine the host left them as a welcome gift.

Rhaenyra felt herself abuzz; she wrote and scribbled so much that her fingers began to ache dully. But it was all magical. Even the pain; it was what she missed. Not having to bribe herself to write by locking herself into a room, watching the small flashing line on her Google Docs file peer back at her judgmentally. This: having so much to write that she filled up her pages to the brim. Her fingers aching from writing all day. Ink smeared on the side of her palm.

This was it. The fire that Alicent's mind lit when it met hers; and the night when Rhaenyra realised it was still alive–it equally pleased and scared her.

It was the magnetic feeling that first pulled them together. Like two tongues speaking the same language. Like rain on a sun-bleached field after days of sweltering summer heat. Like the moment the sun finally rises after a long, endless night.

It felt like complete calmness. It was safe; it was… erotic.

Yes, Rhaenyra thought, as they lay on the floor, enjoying the coolness of the tiles against their skin, wine warming their insides. It was attractive. That's why she was scared to call on it; in the bottom of her soul, she remembered. How it made her want to crawl under Alicent's skin; that connecting their minds wasn't enough. She wanted to touch her soul to hers.

As she lay in bed that night, head spinning slightly and the wine's aftertaste still in her mouth, she felt shame bubble up in her chest as she recounted how much she wanted to lean across their notebooks on the floor and pull Alicent's lips to hers earlier that night.

Embarrassed, Rhaenyra covered her face. What the fuck was she thinking, coming here? This was bad, so bad.

Her thoughts running free now, this late at night, emboldened by all the wine they drank, she imagined her bedroom door creaking open slowly. Fuck.

There'd be soft footsteps on the tile, getting closer to the bed. The mattress letting a bit, as Alicent eased herself onto it.

Then, Rhaenyra imagined Alicent's lips at her ear, hot and whispering.

'Is this what you want, Rhaenyra?' she'd ask. Rhaenyra squirmed at the thought of it.

'You want me to sneak into your room at night, and find you've been wet for me this entire time?'

Rhaenyra swallowed hard and didn't stop her hands from sliding down to her panties. She felt herself through her underwear–she was soaked. She had been, since the last glass of wine they shared on the living room floor.

'I want you so much…' Rhaenyra wasn't sure if she just thought it, or actually said the sentence out loud. Sweat began to pool on her chest as she felt her heartbeat quicken. She sighed, ragged, as she caressed herself through her clothes.

'Look at you. So desperate… touch yourself for me. Let me hear how wet you are,' Rhaenyra imagined Alicent smirking over her, peeling her hand from her face so she could meet her eyes. 'Look at me while you fuck yourself.'

Lips parting, Rhaenyra imagined Alicent's mouth on hers. At the same time, she slipped her hand under her panties and ran her fingers over her pussy, warm and slick from want.

'Fuck me, please…' she murmured, as she began to stroke herself.

'Do you want my fingers, baby?'

'Yes…'

Rhaenyra slipped two of her fingers inside herself, and bucked at the sensation. She pressed at that spot that made her rock her hips so needily. But it was not enough…

'What do you really want to say to me, Rhaenyra?' she imagined Alicent's voice imploring. 'You can tell me…'

'No one fucks me like you do…' Rhaenyra whispered into the air.

She bit down on her forearm, trying to muffle herself as she came, thighs shaking, sweat-soaked sheets cold against her skin.