An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
“Alright, the vampire will be right in. You’ll be in great hands!”
Alicent laughed a little uneasy, “vampire? Is that what you call the doctor these days?”
“Oh no, not the doctor.” The nurse started, gathering up a few stray items from the medical tray. “It’s just what we call Rhaenyra, our phlebotomist. You know,” she gestures with an open hand, “because she takes your blood.” The woman seemed to find her joke a little too funny and laughed on her way out of the room.
Alicent supposed it must be pretty dull seeing patient after patient over and over again, so the woman had to take her little victories where she could even if it was in the name of bad jokes.
After a few moments alone, a knock on the door caused Alicent to turn from the exam table. Any notion that the joke was bad died in her brain upon seeing the woman who walked in. She was breathtaking. Silvery blond hair that seemed to capture the light itself done up in a low messy bun, with strands poking out in the back and skin so pale it looked like porcelain. A lab coat draped over her tall, lithe frame and her gaze was sharp but warm and locked onto Alicent immediately.
The intensity of her stare felt like Alicent had a spotlight on her causing her shift a little in her seat. “Good morning, Alicent,” she said, voice low and enchanting with a faint lilt that sent a little shiver down Alicent’s spine. “I’m Rhaneyra. I’ll be drawing your blood today.”
Bit of a cliche for a vampire to draw blood for a living, right?
