Chapter Text
“You’re doing the race this weekend,” are the first words Alicent hears when she enters Otto’s office first thing Wednesday morning. Alicent was barely in the door, a mock-up of her previous article on the Met Gala in her arms. She was running late this morning—which is part of why she thought her father was calling her into his office first thing—and she looks an absolute mess. She styled her bangs in the car meaning they’re a bit all over the place from a misbehaving curler and the rest of her long red hair is up in a clip that has half of it falling out anyway. She planned on having a moment to fix herself up before getting to work, but lo and behold, she’s now sitting in front of her father looking… unkempt, to say the least. She missed one of the top buttons of her white shirt, leaving a relatively normal amount of chest exposed, but still too much for her father. She can feel the cool gold of her mother’s necklace against her skin, normally a comfort, though right now just a reminder of how her father might once more reprimand her.
“I’m entertainment, why would I be doing a race?” Alicent asks, closing the door behind her and settling down in the seat across from her father’s desk. He looks away to check an email for a moment and she takes the opportunity to pull her brown blazer higher up her shoulders and do one more button. She clears her throat, trying to look at ease when her father’s eyes land on her once more.
Working for her father’s magazine was not her first choice by any means. She worked in fashion for a long time—working herself up to a brilliant position at Vogue in New York, but then her father fell ill and she needed to return home. Then, he got better and she just… stayed. She hadn’t realized how difficult it would be to escape once he had his claws in her again.
“Mysaria is sick and won’t be able to travel, you finished your Met Gala piece which means I know for a fact you are free. Besides you like to write about all that silly… women in STEM and feminism stuff, so you’ll enjoy it.”
“What do you mean? It’s F1, they wouldn’t know feminism if it smacked them in the mouth,” Alicent retorts, her voice tired. She was so late leaving her flat she hasn’t even managed to get her coffee yet and right now she is truly feeling the lack of caffeine.
“Rhaenyra Targaryen, currently the only woman to drive in Formula One racing since the 90’s and more importantly, she smokes everyone else. It’s hardly even close, the only one who’s even managed to get remotely close is Mercedes’ Criston Cole. You’re doing a pre-race media spot on her along with standard race press for the Monaco Grand Prix. You will be there representing the magazine so I expect you not only to look your best, but to be on your best behavior as well,” Otto explains, his voice terse and monotone. “Mysaria will be forwarding over any information she has on the race and the players so you don’t make an absolute fool out of yourself. Rhaenyra drives for Red Bull Racing, but she used to drive for Mercedes, which is why there’s a bit of a rivalry between her and Cole. Well, one-sided, because Cole doesn’t measure up and the press are sure to remind him of it every single race.”
“Father, I’m going to look like a blithering idiot, I’m an entertainment editor for Christ’s sake—”
“And does racing not entertain millions? I’m not asking, Alicent. I’ll send you your flight information by end of day,” Otto says with the sort of finality that tells Alicent to get out of his office. She sighs, dropping her article onto his desk and leaving the office.
She knows nothing about racing and now her father is making her stand face to face with someone who is apparently one of the best drivers in the league right now. On the way back to her office, she stops by Harwin’s cubicle, leaning over it with a sigh.
“He’s sending me to a fucking car race,” Alicent groans, resting her chin on the divider. “Harwin, I don’t know jack shit about cars. Please tell me you know something about this Formula One thing.”
Harwin raises his eyebrows. “Frankly, I don’t know how you don’t.”
“I thought Nascar was the big thing.”
“God, your time in America messed you up,” he laughs, pushing his chair back from his desk slightly and leaning back with his hands folded in his lap. As he speaks, Alicent takes a moment to fix her hair and make herself look a bit more presentable. “You’re covering the Targaryen, right? I remember Mysaria talking about the article. Look, all you need to know really is that she’s insane. She absolutely dominated the lower levels, it wasn’t even close and it was increasingly obvious that she was out of everyone’s league but she couldn’t get enough sponsors for her to afford a career in F1—”
“There are other levels?”
“Alicent, darling, you’re so pretty,” Harwin says with a soft smile while Alicent scoffs and flips him her middle finger to which he only laughs. “Yes, but even those levels are thousands upon thousands of dollars a season and the teams for Formula One are so competitive, most people spend their whole careers in F4, F3, et cetera. Rhaenyra, though, wouldn’t take it. So, she convinced her father, Viserys Targaryen and please tell me you’ve heard of him, he’s a real life Logan Roy—”
“Of course, I know who Viserys Targaryen is, he has more money than Bezos,” Alicent rolls her eyes. “Have some faith in me, I know more than just celebrities in pretty dresses. I used to organize fashion weeks, babe. That takes a level of brains you can’t even comprehend. So, a spoiled rich kid doesn’t get what she wants and what? He buys the team?”
“Kind of. He sold stock of his company to support her and brokered a deal with Mercedes to get her a spot on the team after one of their drivers crashed and was out for the season. She put Mercedes back on the map after a couple of rough seasons, but during silly season—”
Alicent balks. “I’m sorry, silly season?”
“Yeah, it’s when all the trades and shit goes down but it’s always a bloody mess,” Harwin explains with a wave of a hand. “But a few years ago, Red Bull Racing paid an insane amount of money to get Rhaenyra to drive for them and threw Criston Cole at Mercedes and Mercedes has been a mess ever since. They’ve been trying to get her back, but she’s doing far too well and making too much money.”
“So… spoiled rich kid,” Alicent reiterates. “I have to do a media spot on her and I don’t even know where to begin.”
“Alicent, it’s F1. I can count on one hand the amount of drivers that weren’t born into millions,” Harwin laughs. “You’ll do fine, just be careful with her.”
Her brow furrows, “Why? Is she a bitch or something?”
“No, just a famous playboy who barely goes anywhere without a model on her arm. Dreadful media flirt. And I’ve seen how you get around hot women.”
“I do not—” Alicent starts to defend herself with a huff, though soon realizes she lacks all rebuttal. “I’m going to my office.”
She can still hear him laughing as she slams the door with a huff, walking over to her desktop to find an awaiting email from Mysaria and one from her father with her flight information. Apparently, the race takes place in the streets of Monte Carlo. She had been there a few years ago for Monte Carlo Fashion Week and she can’t imagine cars going hundreds of miles an hour through those streets.
Alicent sighs to herself, opening a new tab. With Harwin’s warning, she can’t help but be curious as to what this woman actually looks like. She knows the Targaryen name, of course, everyone does, but she never paid much attention to Viserys’s children. When she googles the family, four children come up though apparently from different mothers—Rhaenyra is the only living child of Viserys’s first wife, Aemma, though it seems Aegon, Aemond, and Heleana are from his second wife—some french model that left him years ago. Aegon, it seems, races as well, but with IndyCar in the states. Alicent can feel a growing headache—she did not realize there was more than one type of professional racing and she feels absolutely in over her head.
She clicks on the wikipedia page for Rhaenyra, a small gasp leaving her lips when she sees her. The photo online is older—her silver blonde hair so long it goes down past the borders of the photo. She must have been dressed up for some business thing because she’s wearing a suit that looks perfectly tailored. Looking outside her office window to make sure no one is approaching—not that she’s doing anything unprofessional, per se, it’s research, she opens up Instagram on her desktop and searches Rhaenyra’s name.
It seems she cut off her hair once she got really into racing, and now it sits down to her shoulders in a loose shag that looks absolutely perfect on her. Her last photo is from earlier this month, the Miami Grand Prix and the first photo includes a sweaty Rhaenyra in her Red Bull uniform, her arm around a smiling woman with a headset on and clipboard in her hands. Swiping through the photos, Alicent sees various photos with pit crew and other teammates, along with a photo of Rhaenyra on the podium holding up a trophy. In second place stands a man in a Mercedes uniform and a sour expression on his face that Alicent can only assume is Criston Cole. Alicent can’t help but chuckle slightly at how miserable she looks.
Allowing herself one last selfish google search, she types Rhaenyra Targaryen girlfriend. Just to see how founded Harwin’s comment is, of course, totally professional. She finds an article about her recent split from a model Alicent actually met a few years ago. The article is dated from last month, but that’s the most recent thing she can find. Not that it matters. She sighs, saving Mysaria’s notes and closing her tabs. She supposes one weekend outside of her comfort zone won’t kill her.
Summer creeps up on Monte Carlo and Alicent silently thanks god she chose to forgo the long-sleeved dress she was initially going to pick. She sits in the back of a car on her way to the track where she has an initial interview with Rhaenyra ahead of the first practice. Alicent was confused as to how a simple race manages to take up an entire weekend only to find the first day is entirely practice only for more practice on the next, a qualifier, and then finally, the race on the third day. She has a filmed video interview with Rhaenyra that will take at most an hour and then will be edited down into a 15 minute spotlight on the magazine website while the rest will be transcribed and written up for publication along with a casual photo-op. Alicent has done these sorts of things before, just usually with people she didn’t have to google prior to meeting.
She steps out of the car and adjusts her dress—a simple black number with a high enough boat neckline to not disappoint her father, leaving her arms on display, gold necklace hanging over the tailored black fabric while the skirt is probably a bit shorter than is professional, but she paired it with tall black boots to make up for it. She actually had time to style her bangs today, though the rest of her hair is up in a bun to get the heat off her back. Part of her hates being on camera for interviews because it means she has to dress up, but once she steps out of the car, she’s thankful she ignored her wishes to wear jeans and a t-shirt. It’s not quite the level the press reaches for the Met Gala, but Harwin hadn’t been kidding when he told her that Monaco was one of the more glamorous races of the season.
Alicent feels almost out of place as she pulls her press lanyard over her head, following someone down into what must be the headquarters and starting point for the track. There’s a series of rooms, most with the names of companies and drivers on the door. She’s stopped outside one that reads ‘Oracle Red Bull Racing’ with the name Rhaenyra Targaryen beneath it. Her camera crew follows behind her as the door is opened. There’s a few hours until the practice rounds begin, but when the door opens, Rhaenyra is already in her racing suit, though it’s tugged down to her waist with just a black tank top on beneath it.
If she was attractive in her Instagram photos, she’s downright deadly in person. She had been sitting watching something on a laptop when Alicent came in, expression skewed in concentration, but the second the door open she pops up to greet her.
“Hi, you must be Alicent, or Miss Hightower if you prefer that,” she speaks, her voice a cautious velvet as she holds out her hand to Alicent.
Alicent shakes it firmly, telling her, “Just Alicent is fine. And you must be the Rhaenyra Targaryen I know so much about.”
She doesn’t miss the way Rhaenyra eyes her up and down as the two of them settle into chairs, Alicent crossing one leg over another in a way that doesn’t expose anything that shouldn’t be seen on camera. She makes an effort to relax in her chair as she pulls out her notebook with prepared questions in it, though it is hard to be relaxed with Rhaenyra’s steely gaze on her. Alicent can’t remember the last time she felt so intimidated by someone she was interviewed by—working beneath Anna Wintour had given her an edge, turned her into some of the best in the business. But right now, she feels like a brand new journalist just starting out in the big city all over again.
“I’ll start you off with a low ball, how’re you enjoying Monaco?” Alicent begins, clearing her throat. Rhaenyra relaxes in a chair against the wall, arms crossed as she leans back. The room is small and right now, Alicent is feeling it.
“I just got here, of course, but I do love it every time. Beautiful city for me to win another gold trophy in,” Rhaenyra laughs, tilting her head slightly with an arrogance Alicent would usually abhor, but somehow it’s leagues more attractive on Rhaenyra.
“Cocky,” Alicent comments, “But I suppose not unfounded. Out of 118 current Grand Prix wins from Red Bull, you’ve taken the last 57 in just the last two years since you signed, and taken the championship title. What sort of pressure does that create?”
Rhaenyra sighs, linking her fingers together and placing her hands behind her head. “Well, I won’t lie and say I don’t feel it, but at the same time, the pressure really only fuels me. I don’t mind losing, not like some, but it’s not something I worry about. Driving is like breathing to me. Any nerves about a race or a title I feel disappear the second I’m behind that wheel.”
Alicent makes sure to note Rhaenyra’s relaxed stance as she answers the questions, a small detail for her article to add to the narrative of Rhaenyra’s relaxed confidence in herself she’s become so known for. “Not to continue the pressure conversation since it doesn’t seem to bother you, but does it ever feel worse because of you being a woman? I assume something like that would cause you to get heat from drivers and press alike.”
“There seems to be a much larger problem with my arrogance and the claims that I bought my way in than if I was a man, surely, but that was something I expected when I chose to get into this,” Rhaenyra begins to explain. “In F1, nearly everyone spends millions to get a spot, but of course, it’s only a problem when I do it. Of course, I wouldn’t have had to spend my own money if these big name companies would realize it’s the twenty-first century and sponsor me. They can say I paid my way to the top all they want, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’ve worked incredibly hard to ensure I stay there. People—well, men, tend to search for excuses when they can’t accept the simple truth that a woman is kicking their ass.”
Alicent chuckles at this, laughing at the way Rhaenyra turns to wink at the camera. She takes the pause as a moment to continue to eye Rhaenyra up. In her tank top, Alicent can see the fine lines of muscles in her biceps, something she’s finding impossible to look away from. She checks her watch, making sure they’re good on time as she heads for her next question.
“One of the only races where you didn’t place podium ended in a nearly deadly crash for you,” Alicent flips through her notebook for the question, referring to a previously printed article from a few years ago. “As I’m sure you know, last year, one car spun out into the middle of the track and you hit the driver head on, yes? Particularly tough recovery in your shoulder if I recall correctly, does that still bother you? Was it scary to return to racing?”
Rhaenyra straightens out in her chair, leaning forward and twisting so that Alicent can see the gnarly scarring on the back of her shoulder. Looking at footage of the accident before she arrived, Alicent was frankly surprised a torn up shoulder was her only major injury aside from a few burns she suffered as a result of trying to pull the other driver out of the car—which she accomplished with the help of another driver.
When Alicent’s eyes catch on the scarring, Rhaenyra nods her over, “Go on, you can feel it.”
Alicent bites her lip, forgetting about the camera momentarily as she stands from her chair, running her fingers gently across the lines of scarring, feeling the roughness of the skin beneath her fingertips. “Looks brutal.”
“Worse than it was,” Rhaenyra shrugs as the two of them settle back down in their respective chairs. “Acknowledging the danger is something I understood when I got into this, but I won’t pretend that prepared me for actually getting in a crash. Really, though, I wasn’t worried about myself at all when it happened. I mean, sure, my shoulder was shattered and the pain was unimaginable after the fact, but with the adrenaline of the moment, all I cared about was getting Tyrell out of his car. The recovery was difficult, but the second I could, I was back behind the wheel. Not racing makes me stir crazy.”
Alicent nods. “Very brave of you, though I’m sure you’re probably sick of hearing that.”
“Not if it’s coming from beautiful women,” Rhaenyra comments with a grin that’s downright cheeky. “The sympathy certainly opened a few doors for me in terms of… extracurriculars. Not that I had much trouble with that in the first place, though.”
Alicent finds herself blushing, flipping through her notes to try and hide it, praying that this gets cut out of the final video. Even if it doesn’t, she can’t help but ask, “You flirt with all your interviewers?”
“Just the ones that take my breath away.”
Alicent bites her lip, finding her next question and clearing her throat. “So, Monaco. Will we be seeing you on the podium?”
Rhaenyra leans back in her chair with an arrogant grin on her tilted expression, strands of short, silver-blonde hair falling in her eyes as she stretches, putting her muscles on full display. Alicent has a sneaking suspicion the game has begun well before Rhaenyra step foot on the track.
“The podium already has my name on it.”
After the interview, Alicent packs away her things while the camera crew goes back to the hotel to begin working on cutting down the footage. In the time before the race on Sunday, Alicent will be sitting in a beautiful hotel room in Monte Carlo forced to stare at her laptop as she writes up a transcription of the interview and turns it into a fully-fleshed out article.
“Will I be seeing you at the race, Alicent?” Rhaenyra asks, finally pulling the top half of her racing suit up and shamefully hiding those beautiful arms. She might be hallucinating, but she swears she sees Rhaenyra flinch when she tugs the suit up over her injured shoulder.
“How much time did you give that to heal?” Alicent can’t help but ask, straightening out her skirt. She leans against the doorframe with her notebook in her hands, fully aware that she should have left already. Selfishly though, she wants a moment alone with Rhaenyra, without cameras present. “And yes, it’s my job. So, I’ll be seeing you for a press junket and hopefully, your post-race podium interviews.”
“Are journalists supposed to have favorites?” Rhaenyra asks with a tilt of her head, stepping closer and working to close the distance between the two of them. “My shoulder is fine, just tweaks if I don’t let it rest, but with a race almost every weekend, not much room for that. Don’t worry your pretty head about it, my physical therapist follows me everywhere.”
Feeling daring, Alicent brings up a hand to run it across her now clothed shoulder. “I read that you returned to racing after only forty days. A broken shoulder, especially one that required four surgeries, should be given at the very least three months to heal. I suppose you weren’t kidding about going stir crazy.”
Rhaenyra chuckles, “Your concern for me is cute, but I promise I wouldn’t throw my career away over a tiny injury. Now, more importantly, would it be unprofessional for me to ask you to dinner after the qualifiers tomorrow night?”
“Oh, deeply,” Alicent responds, though her voice has a teasing lilt to it. She catches the flicker of disappointment in Rhaenyra’s eyes, so she reaches out a hand and tugs her closer by the zipper. “But I think I’m willing to overlook it as long as we practice… discretion.”
Rhaenyra’s face brightens in a way that appears so soft Alicent finds it difficult to believe the rumors of her being a heartless playboy. She holds out her hand. “Let me give you my number then and you can tell me where you’re staying. I’ll send a car.”
She barely hesitates to hand over her phone, letting Rhaenyra type her phone number in as her heart races with girlish glee. She can hardly remember the last time she was flirted with so brazenly and it has her weak in the knees. Most women just assume she’s straight and leave her alone—something that probably makes her father ecstatic. Rhaenyra hands the phone back with a smile.
“Do you do this with every interviewer that waltzes in here?” Alicent can’t help but ask, feeling a pang of insecurity.
Rhaenyra shakes her head. “Not ever, actually. Well, I flirt a little for the camera but a date… never.”
Alicent nods, biting the inside of her cheek as she considers this. She holds her phone and notebook close to her side as she opens the door. “Well then, good luck driving in circles. I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“Tomorrow it is.”
Dress to stun, darling. That was the only text Rhaenyra offered her when she sent the name of her hotel, something that had Alicent immensely nervous. Her father would kill her if he knew she was doing this, but she’s so excited she hardly cares. She fastens her finest pearl earrings as she looks at her reflection—wearing a simple floor length silk strapless gown in a deep navy blue paired with gold heels with pearl accents, hence the matching earrings. For a moment, she’s grateful she comes from old money because it means she’s always prepared for a formal dress requirement.
She takes a deep breath, feeling her phone buzz with the notification of the car Rhaenyra sent arriving. Alicent shoves her phone into her clutch and leaves the hotel room with one last glance in the mirror, heart racing so quickly she thinks it may burst out of her chest entirely.
Downstairs, she steps out onto the street to find Rhaenrya standing there in a black suit, a white shirt beneath it, half unbuttoned with gold necklaces hanging against her bare skin. Alicent is relieved, for the fear she’d overdressed is now quenched, but also undeniably turned on. Rhaenyra’s eyes widen as soon as she sees Alicent, clearing her throat as she opens the door for Alicent, a comforting hand finding her waist as she slides into the car.
“You are—” Rhaenyra begins the moment the car door is closed behind them. “You are something else entirely, Miss Hightower.”
Alicent blushes, running a hand through the hair she left in loose curls down her back. “Miss Hightower? Are we still at work?”
“I hope not,” Rhaenrya mutters, a hand over her mouth as she shoots another look over at Alicent. “Christ, I have half a mind to cancel dinner entirely and just order room service to my hotel, yet at the same time I want to shower you in decadence. God, where have you been all my life?”
She smiles so hard her cheeks hurt, a nervous laugh falling from her lips as she shoots an anxious look over at Rhaenyra. “Very charming of you, Rhaenyra. To answer your question, I’ve been in fashion. I am so out of my element here you have absolutely no idea.”
“What do you mean?” Rhaenyra asks, brow furrowed.
“I have no clue what I’m doing here,” Alicent says with a chuckle. “I write fashion and entertainment, but our F1 girl was sick, so here I am. I had to google you the day before I flew to Monaco.”
“No shit,” Rhaenyra laughs. Alicent realizes just how much she’s beginning to adore the sound. “I would never have guessed.”
Alicent chuckles, feeling her cheeks flush red as the car comes to a stop in front of the restaurant. “I’m not one of the best in the business for nothing.”
“And how come I’ve never heard of you until now, then?” Rhaenyra opens the door for Alicent once more, offering her hand to help her out of the car. Once outside, Rhaenyra snakes her arm around Alicent’s waist and keeps her close as they step into one of the nicest restaurants she’s ever seen.
“And what happened to discretion?” Alicent asks coyly. The second the hostess lays eyes on Rhaenyra they’re guided to a table in the back in a section that is mostly empty despite the packed restaurant. Alicent figures this must be Rhaenrya’s attempt at privacy.
“A woman as beautiful as you deserves to be shown off at least a little bit,” Rhaenyra flirts, leaning back in the booth and browsing the menu. “Can you really blame me?”
“I suppose not,” Alicent relents with a comfortable sigh, leaning on her hand as she looks over the menu, eyes darting up to Rhaenyra. Part of her can’t believe this is happening—Harwin would make fun of her if he knew where she was right now, and she’s almost certain she’s fallen into some sort of trap, only she’ll happily get tangled up in this web if it means Rhaenyra continues to look at her like she wants to eat her alive. “Apologies, I haven’t done this a lot.”
Rhaenyra looks up with raised eyebrows. “What? Gone on dates with your subjects?”
“Gone on dates with women,” Alicent admits with a sigh. “Especially women as handsome as you.”
This time it’s Rhaenyra’s turn to blush, something Alicent takes pride in. “It’s a shame, though I can’t say it doesn’t delight me a bit. It means I get to be the first to spoil you blind.”
Alicent bites the inside of her cheek and returns her gaze to the menu, though she brings her heel-clad foot to brush against Rhaenrya’s ankle beneath the table. Their eyes meet across the space between them and Alicent has a feeling she’s going to have to pay attention to F1 more often.
Dinner passes by with ease—the conversation between them light and flirty and utterly non-stop. Alicent can’t remember the last time she’s ever gotten along with someone this well on a date and it has her completely knocked off her feet.
Back in the car, Alicent makes a split-second decision, leaning forward to tell the driver. “Just one stop, please.”
“Thank god,” Rhaenyra groans out, putting up the divider between the front and back seats before reaching for Alicent.
Alicent giggles as she’s yanked towards Rhaenyra, bringing a hand up to her face before their lips meet. Her heart rushes with excitement as she hikes up her dress slightly to get a better grounding on Rhaenyra’s lap, relishing in the feeling of the hands on her waist. Rhaenyra kisses her deeply, pushing against her as Alicent pushes back, kissing her absolutely breathless. She breathes out a gasp into the kiss, Rhaenyra taking the opportunity to press deeper, the kiss becoming open-mouthed as Alicent tastes her tongue. Perhaps making out with an incredibly rich F1 driver in the back of a car is not the classiest thing she’s ever done, but at least she let Rhaenyra buy her dinner first.
She’s in a foreign country, covering a subject she’ll likely never have to cover again, and an incredibly hot woman wants to sleep with her. She would be an absolute fool not to take that up. They stop outside of Alicent’s hotel to which she breathes a sigh of relief, desperate to rip this suit off of Rhaenyra because for just as handsome as it is on, she can’t imagine what it’ll be like when it’s off.
She tugs Rhaenyra into the hotel by her wrist, nodding at the doorman as they head straight for the elevator. Her skirt billows out behind her as Rhaenrya smiles, trying to catch up. She’s careful not to tug on Rhaenyra’s injured arm, not wanting to irritate it before a race. In the elevator, someone else joins them so they respectfully keep their hands to themselves. Mostly. Rhaenyra’s fingers dig softly into her waist, sending chills down Alicent’s spine.
As soon as they’re on Alicent’s floor, she practically runs for her door, feeling the way Rhaenyra presses into her back as she searches for her key card. As soon as the door is open and shut behind them, Rhaenyra has her up against the wall, her lips finding Alicent’s neck in a way that has a moan already falling from her lips.
Alicent is too desperate to let it last long, though, so she shoves Rhaenyra back towards the bed, pulling her jacket from her shoulders and tossing it to the side. Rhaenyra gets the memo, reaching for the buttons on her shirt before pulling it off entirely, leaving her topless with nothing but suit pants and her gold necklaces.
Alicent’s mouth is watering as Rhaenyra turns her around, pressing a kiss to the nape of her neck and another down her spine as she reaches for the zipper of her dress, dragging it down agonizingly slowly. Alicent groans as Rhaenyra continues to kiss a spot into her shoulder, teeth just barely marring the flesh in a way she’s certain will bruise by tomorrow morning.
She shoves the dress down the moment it’s unzipped, leaving her in just lacy blue underwear and her heels, a sight that has Rhaenyra pushing her onto the bed and undoing her belt buckle. Alicent watches curiously, going for the clasp on her heels only for Rhaenyra to swat her hand away, undoing it for her and placing the heels gently off to the side. Still down between Alicent’s legs, she kisses up her calf up to her thigh before climbing up onto the bed, on top of Alicent and pressing a kiss to her bare stomach.
Throwing her head back against the pillows, she lets out a steady moan as Rhaenyra brings her mouth to her breast, teasing her nipple between her teeth while her other hand flutters above her underwear, feeling her wetness yet not doing anything about it. Alicent bucks her hips up against the touch, relishing in the dark chuckle that reverberates against her skin from Rhaenyra.
“Please, Rhaenyra,” Alicent breathes out, letting her hands tangle in her short locks, gripping them tightly and hoping she’ll lower herself sooner rather than later.
Rhaenyra pauses, kicking off where her pants were already coming down, leaving the two of them equally bare until her hand comes to the waistband of Alicent’s underwear, pulling it slowly down her thighs until it’s off entirely. She pushes herself up closer to the headboard as Rhaenyra settles between her legs, glancing lightly at the aching wetness between her legs. Rhaenyra leans down, tugging one of Alicent’s legs over her shoulder, pressing a kiss to the skin of her thigh.
“Christ,” Alicent mutters, eyes fluttering closed as Rhaenyra finally brings her tongue down to her dripping cunt. Her grip in Rhaenyra’s hair tightens as her tongue makes contact with her clit, swirling around the bundle of nerves and applying light pressure that’s just enough to drive her utterly insane.
Rhaenyra’s tongue dips lower, swirling around her entrance before dipping in softly, soon accompanied by one finger and then two. The sensation has Alicent gripping the sheets, searching for purpose as her legs attempt to clench around Rhaenyra’s face, held strong by Rhaenyra’s arms. She can’t remember the last time anything felt this good. Rhaenyra fucks into her with the same pace as her tongue, undoing her piece by piece. Her fingertips dig into Alicent’s thighs and she hopes it’s tight enough to bruise. The thought of attending the race on Sunday with Rhaenyra’s marks still on her sends an absolute thrill down her spine.
She continues to fuck into Alicent while she sucks a bruise into Alicent’s thigh, the sensitive skin tingling in response as Alicent feels herself already drawing near to an orgasm. She should be embarrassed, but Rhaenyra might be the best she’s ever had, she can hardly blame herself for not being able to hold on much longer.
Rhaenyra comes up from between her thighs, adding a third finger as she comes up to kiss Alicent’s lips. She can still taste the bitter saltiness of herself on Rhaenyra’s tongue, something that only turns her on more. She shifts their positions, pushing Rhaenyra down against the mattress on her good shoulder, straddling her hips and pushing herself down further onto her fingers.
She grips fiercely onto Rhaenyra as she comes, her orgasm knocking the absolute wind out of her as she counts on Rhaenyra’s hand on her waist to hold her up, which she does with ease. Rhaenyra pulls her fingers out of Alicent and surges up to kiss her, an openmouthed mess of a kiss that has Alicent’s heart racing. As they kiss, she pushes her hand into Rhaenyra’s underwear, feeling the way she gasps and pants as Alicent’s fingers begin to place pressure on her clit, circling the nerves in a pattern she knows is driving her crazy.
Rhaenyra must have been close just from fucking Alicent because she buries her head in Alicent’s shoulder biting into the flesh there in a way that makes Alicent moan. Rhaenyra is loud when she comes, the sound muffled by Alicent’s skin as she grips onto her, a hand desperate at the back of her neck, keeping her close as if Alicent could ever want to go anywhere but here.
They pant against one another as Alicent pulls out her hand, the two of the coming down together as the stickiness of sex and sweat permeates the air. Alicent groans as she falls down onto the mattress, offering, “I feel the need to disclose I don’t normally do this on the first date, but…”
“When in Monaco?” Rhaenyra finishes with a coy grin, reaching out and tugging Alicent closer by the waist, making no attempt to straighten out the mussed up sheets beneath them. They had been in such a rush, the lights are still on. Alicent watches as Rhaenyra straightens out, wincing slightly as she twists her shoulder the wrong way.
“How often does it bother you?” Alicent asks, tracing along the scars once Rhaenyra settles back down.
“Only during racing season, really,” Rhaenyra says with a sigh, watching Alicent with curious eyes. “I don’t get enough time to rest between races and it tends to irritate it, but the physical therapy helps. After the championships, I’ll have a bit of time off and it’ll usually go back to just being mildly irritating.”
Alicent huffs, tugging Rhaenyra closer so she can press a kiss to it. “Stay the night?”
She isn’t sure where the confidence to ask the question comes from, but it hangs in the air now.
Rhaenyra just smiles, though, leaning forward and kissing Alicent softly. “I’ll have to leave relatively early, but I’ll try not to wake you on my way out.”
Alicent nods, kissing Rhaenyra again. She feels more comfortable around her than she ever has with someone she’s slept with. Secretly, she hopes they’ll find a way for this to be more than a one night stand. Though, it seems, only time will tell.
The photos of them entering the restaurant are on Twitter by the morning. The one blessing is that no one seems to know who Alicent is. The timeline is splashed with headlines like Rhaenyra Targaryen Spotted with Mystery Woman Ahead of Monaco Grand Prix. Mystery woman. Alicent has never felt so scandalous. No one must have any leads or else she would have received a phone call from her father already, but it has been thankfully silent.
For the race itself, she throws on a black long-sleeved dress with a neckline high enough to cover the marks left by Rhaenyra the night before. Though the dress does include a tasteful slit in the chest that flirts with the line of professionality, but it’s not even the worst thing anyone is wearing. She paired it with boots and updo, dark sunglasses low on her nose as she steps out of the car, pulling her press badge over her head. Pre-race media goes by simply and Alicent settles into a reserved seat for the parade, laughing slightly as Rhaenyra passes by with a shiny smile, earning the loudest whoops from the crowd.
Fifteen minutes after the parade finishes, the race is set to begin. Alicent sits just by the starting line, checking her watch anxiously as the drivers begin to take her places. Her press coordinator had offered her ear plugs, something she’s immensely grateful for the moment she hears the drivers begin to rev their engines.
She hears the muffle of the announcers, the energy of the crowd unstoppable as the cars rip off past the starting line. Each lap is roughly two miles and Alicent finds herself anxiously awaiting the return of the cars the moment they’re out of her sight. Once they’re gone, she pulls out one ear plug so she can properly hear the announcers, desperate to know Rhaenyra’s status. According to the announcers, Rhaenyra is in first, but Cole is close behind. She wrings her fingers together, thankful when the cars eventually pass by once more and Rhaenyra is still in front. The laps for Monaco are slower than most due to how cramped they are and there’s little room for passing meaning with Rhaenyra in the lead already, there’s a solid chance she’ll stay there.
An hour later, they’re halfway through with Rhaenyra in the lead when a loud noise grabs her attention. Cole, who had been in second place spins out and hits the barrier, his car taking a beating as it comes to a stop. A red flag is raised and the drivers begin to disperse into the pits. Alicent bites her nails as she watches Cole get dragged to medical as the debris is cleared from the runway. Alicent isn’t lost on what this means—the one person who could compete with Rhaenyra is officially out of the race. She feels almost giddy—perhaps evil of her considering a man is injured, but her heart is racing as the competition resumes. On the broadcast, they play a clip from Rhaenyra’s mic, a simple, “Christ,” that somehow still manages to get Alicent’s heart fluttering.
Another hour passes and Alicent hears the cars before she sees them, the final lap coming to a nail-biting close, even though she knows it was barely a race at all with Rhaenyra on the track. The first car crosses the finish line—Rhaenyra’s Red Bull Racing logo unmistakeable. As soon as she crosses, the media begins to rush down to their designated area by the podium, Alicent jogging along with them. It’s another full minute before another car crosses the line. It wasn’t even close.
They get settled as the rest of the cars place, heading into the pits while the first three drivers head for the podium—Rhaenyra sweat-soaked and smiling as she removes her helmet. As she stands on the podium and gets handed her trophy, her eyes land on Alicent’s right away.
Media swarms her not long after and distantly Alicent hears the question, “Rhaenyra, do you think your lucky date last night had anything to do with the win? After all, Cole crashing out halfway through pretty much secured you the race. Stroke of luck?”
“Luck’s got nothing to do with it,” Rhaenyra answers breathlessly, eyes catching Alicent’s. “Though I won’t pretend the date didn’t put me in a lovely mood, I’m not really here to talk about my love life?”
“Who is she?” Alicent finds herself asking, holding her microphone out to Rhaenyra with a crooked grin, fully aware that the camera is happily catching Rhaenyra’s blush.
Rhaenyra laughs, “You tell me.”
She pushes Alicent’s microphone out of the way and grabs her chin, tugging her into a kiss in front of all the press and cameras. Alicent smiles into it before pulling away and grinning towards the crowd. “Now, any more questions about the race?”
Chapter 2
Notes:
i accidentally got really invested in f1 while doing the initial research for the fic so i watched the race today and decided i had to write a part two also my friend who reads these for f1 accuracy went to bed and i was too impatient to wait so if you read this the night i post it and there are inaccuracies just revisit tomorrow morning and they will probably be gone ok yippee enjoy
Chapter Text
“Rhaenyra, you’re sitting with a grand total of 373 points thanks to a couple near record-breaking laps in the mix, but you faltered a bit in Spain, letting yourself get all the way down to third and that put you on a downward spiral, sticking you in third for two more races after that. You allowed Cole to catch up to you now, right? With Mercedes, Cole is at 360, meaning it is going to be a very close match for you two is it not? If you don’t get to the podium, you’re looking at a loss, how are you feeling about that?” The interviewer asks Rhaenyra from the paddock while Alicent watches from the VIP section with sunglasses low on her head. Despite the fact that it’s the first week of December, Abu Dhabi is still in the high twenties, meaning even in a black halter top and loose white pants, Alicent is sweating. She sweats even more watching Rhaenyra on the big screen in her racing uniform, running a hand through her hair. She’s done well all weekend—practices and qualifying went off without a hitch and everything about this race should go well.
Cole was never supposed to get this close. Rhaenyra fucked up her shoulder in a near-miss back in Spain and it fucked her for a handful of races and letting Cole catch up in a season that should have had Rhaenyra as the calculated winner long before the final race. She thought he wouldn’t be a problem after his crash out in Monaco, but his injuries were minor enough that he was back by Canada, still placing second. Rhaenyra had been mildly annoyed at this and fucking up her shoulder in Spain did little to help. Alicent wishes she were down in the media paddock, but she’s not working right now. Ironically enough, Mysaria is the one that stands closest to Rhaenyra right now, with Alicent having taken the weekend off to fly out with her and support Rhaenyra in the championships.
Alicent, frankly, didn’t expect them to last this long. Both of them were insanely busy, especially with Rhaenyra in the heat of the racing season, but with Mysaria sick, Alicent had found herself once again reporting on F1 at the Canadian Grand Prix and things just clicked from there. For the month off, Rhaenyra had been in London for most of the time and the two of them absolutely made the most of it. Their little stint in Monaco led to almost instant publicity surrounding their relationship, but Alicent didn’t mind—she was trained in publicity, it was her lifeblood. The only thing that bothered her was the hum of disapproval from her father, but after September passed and with it the throes of fashion week after fashion week, Alicent started lining up jobs. Having years beneath Anna Wintour and now very publicly dating an F1 driver has made her incredibly desirable meaning she no longer needs to rely on her father for a job. She plans to quit after Rhaenyra finishes her season.
“I think you’re forgetting something.” Alicent’s attention is pulled back to the big screen as Rhaenyra’s pre-race interview continues. “It doesn’t matter where I place, I can be third in the podium and still be champion. I know I’ll end up on the podium, that’s not the question. I think Cole has a problem with his machinery, really, he just can’t seem to get past second these days. I let him have a couple races when I was re-injured, but rest assured, that’s done now. I intend to take this trophy home, it’ll do quite nicely on the shelf with all the others.”
She feels a swell of pride watching Rhaenyra. Her arrogance is earned and her being this close to a third championship in Formula One is already historic, but Rhaenyra seems determined to continue breaking records. Red Bull has been fighting to extend her contract past 2025, but everyone wants her. Mercedes is trying to give Criston the boot, but Ferrari is throwing money on the table, too. Alicent leans on the bannister, checking her watch as people swarm around her, drinking champagne and laughing and hardly paying attention to the press. Alicent lowers her sunglasses and checks her watch, desperate for the race to start.
(“I don’t think this is my year,” Rhaenyra sighs, lying in bed beside Alicent the night before the first practice in Abu Dhabi. Their clothes are lost somewhere for them to deal with later, for now Alicent just lies bare in her arms. “My shoulder fucked everything, it always does.”
“Three races will not fuck you, do you not know who you are?” Alicent asks, looking up to press a kiss to the underside of her jaw. “Spain was months ago now. You’ve had time off, you’ve been doing great in physical therapy. You’ve been placing first since the Netherlands, he’s not touching you.”
“It was five races. I placed second in Hungary and Belgium.”
“You’re impossible,” Alicent scoffs, resting her head once more against Rhaenyra’s chest.
“You love it,” Rhaenyra retorts, pressing their lips together softly. And Rhaenyra’s right, she does.)
Alicent can’t believe she knows so much about these stupid cars now. It’s embarrassing how quickly she fell into the world of it—many nights spent in bed with Rhaenyra explaining simple terms or sending texts to her after races she couldn’t attend asking her to explain just about everything that happened. Red Bull has spent the entire season primping and preparing Rhaenyra to be the champion of the world for a third year in a row. It wasn’t even close last season—she took the title with 550 points to her name, only missing one podium due to the crash out that fucked her shoulder. The season before that, she won with a clean 575. This is her lowest point total in her entire Formula One career and Alicent has felt that stress since Spain.
The time on her watch reads 3:56 and she bounces her leg anxiously, watching as the press concludes and the drivers begin to head to their vehicles and get in position. She wrings her hands together, ready to be sweating bullets in the name of her girlfriend for the next two hours. The cameras pass over several drivers, helmets on so all that can be seen is uniforms and helmet colors, but Alicent doesn’t miss the way Rhaenyra blows a kiss in the direction of the VIP stands once the camera lands on her. She laughs to herself, brushing a lock of red hair behind her ear as she waves, not caring whether or not Rhaenyra can actually see her. She wonders if Harwin is watching, even though it’s 8:00am back home in New York. Harwin expressed great jealousy at Alicent being the one in the office to start dating an F1 driver and he was also incredibly jealous that he did not have enough PTO to let him take the weekend off and join she and Mysaria in Abu Dhabi.
Engines rev and the smell of pure gasoline fills the air and Alicent finds herself breathing in, closing her eyes as if sending off a silent prayer will help Rhaenyra now. She knows the title is Rhaenyra’s—it has to be. She takes a deep, steadying breath, hands gripping the bannister. She hears the countdown in the back of her mind and soon enough, the checkered flag goes down and the cars are off. Rhaenyra is in the first grid position and she takes the lead immediately, though Mclaren isn’t far behind with Norris taking second almost right away, Criston dawdling in third. Alicent bites at her nails softly, turning her head to the screens once the cars are out of sight.
It’s times like these she wishes she could hear Rhaenyra’s feed. She wants to know everything happening, everything they’re telling her, but instead she’s forced to just watch the numbers go. One of fifty-eight laps and Rhaenyra is in first. This will go well—it has to go well. Names shift on the board, Alicent doesn’t dare blink. Leclerc knocks Criston out of third with a quick pass and Alicent cheers softly, fists clenching. Norris falls out of second and then it’s Rhaenyra and Leclerc. Alicent is honestly surprised Leclerc has even gotten up there, but he raced a strong qualifier and got a good grid position—a rarity for Ferrari's subpar machinery. Rhaenyra’s teammate, Tyrell, is all the way back in 8th, meaning she has no support in her fight for the podium.
Several laps pass and little changes on the podium except for the fact that Cole has worked his way back up to third with Leclerc being the only thing lying between him and Rhaenyra. They come across a wide part of the track and Alicent watches on the camera as Criston’s teammate Hamilton comes up behind him, who is trying to pass Leclerc. A sharp turn and he passes him while Hamilton takes third with a near miss in terms of contact—so close that Alicent’s breath hitches. It clearly throws Leclerc off as he drops two positions and finds Hamilton getting a gnarly lead on him. Twenty-five laps in, Rhaenyra is number one, but Criston is nipping at her heels. Alicent feels beads of sweat dripping down her neck and she can hardly blame it on the heat.
Rhaenyra speeds up and creates a better gap between her and Criston as she races over the line, beginning a new lap and leaving Criston in the dust. Lap twenty-six. Halfway through and Rhaenyra hasn’t faltered once. Alicent doesn’t let herself sit down, doesn’t let herself relax. She paces back and forth in the stands, groaning when her phone buzzes in her pocket.
“Your girl’s good,” Mysaria’s voice is clean in her ear and Alicent can’t help but laugh. She looks down into the media pit where Mysaria looks up at her and waves. Alicent waves back with a grin.
“She’s brilliant, but Cole is making me nervous,” Alicent says, turning her attention back to the cameras where Cole is in DRS range to try and overtake Rhaenyra, or at the very least, minimize the gap between them.
“She’s going to do fine, he doesn’t stand a chance,” Mysaria comments, chuckling to herself before hanging up the phone. Alicent shoves her phone in her pocket and places her earplug back in.
More laps pass. The broadcast lets the audience in on Rhaenyra’s channel. “Cole behind. Don’t give him room.”
There’s less than fifteen laps with Rhaenyra’s car coming around the corner, close enough that Alicent can see her, the starting line clear as day. It’s gotten closer and closer, but Rhaenyra’s lead hasn’t stumbled. She watches as Cole’s car turns the corner with what seems like a millisecond between them, teeth gnawing on her cuticles.
Then, Cole turns sharply on the straight road. At first, Alicent thinks he’s spun out, taken the turn too quickly or something, but then his car angles into the back of Rhaenyra’s and she realizes what he’s done. Alicent gasps, bringing a hand to her mouth as Rhaenyra spins out, debris falling off the back of her car as she struggles to stop herself, spinning out and hitting the barricade halfway through, causing more debris to fall into the roadway before she’s eventually able to come to a stop.
Alicent grips the bannister, desperate to run to the paddock as the red flag goes up but she can’t move. She doesn’t see Rhaenyra get out of the car. For a moment, it feels as if everyone in Abu Dhabi is holding their breath. She pulls out her ear plugs so she can listen properly to the commentators.
“A dirty move from Cole that is already being reviewed for a potential penalty has led to both of them spun out on the track as racers return to their pits. We’re awaiting word as to the status of both Targaryen and Cole, though it seems like Targaryen’s vehicle has taken the worst of the hit, I would not be surprised if this put her out of the race entirely,” one of them says and Alicent’s heart pounds in her chest.
“And that’s just the car we’re talking about, Targaryen’s camera footage shows an impact that leaves us frankly unsure of her status. She could have suffered a serious concussion, even with the protection of her helmet. That’s a gnarly hit, let’s go ahead and replay that moment of impact while we wait for word—”
Alicent watches the accident play out on the screen once more. From this angle, she sees it clear as day. Criston ran into her on purpose. Any judge would see that. There’s no way he escapes this race without a point penalty—if Rhaenyra crashes out entirely, he could get straight up disqualified. She would love to see Criston disqualified—the next driver below the two of them sits at 285 meaning even if Rhaenyra were to crash out, the champion title would still be hers. Criston is an absolute idiot if he thought this was going to work out in his favor.
No one moves on the track except for the cars working to clear debris and Alicent’s heart stops. Everything seems to slow down and all she can focus on are gnarly hit, and moment of impact, and I would not be surprised if this took her out of the race entirely. If Rhaenyra gets out and Cole somehow manages to not get disqualified, that’s it for her.
“All right, we have just heard from Red Bull it seems that Targaryen insists on finishing the race!” the commentators announce and Alicent could feel her pulse picking back up again, desperate to hear of Rhaenyra’s status. At the very least, she’s alive. Her car starts up towards the pit and Alicent feels tears welling in her eyes of relief as she brings a hand to her mouth. She feels a few hands on her shoulder from strangers and other celebrities that stand in the VIP area. She hears a commotion from the section divider and sees Mysaria there arguing with a security guard.
“Look, I know I’m not VIP, but I’m the fucking press and I’d like to ask a question to Rhaenyra Targaryen’s girlfriend if you don’t mind, it’s very important journalistic research and—” Alicent hears her arguing and she laughs through the wetness in her eyes and throat, pushing past the security guard to grab Mysaria in a hug.
“It’s okay, she’s okay, she’s continuing the race. Or, she’s going to try,” Alicent sighs into the crook of her shoulder. “I don’t even know if they can fix that, it looked—God, it looked horrible.”
She fiddles with her badge, watching as the race continues, wishing she could be near Rhaenyra and her team. She turns towards Mysaria. “I’m going down there, I don’t want to be up here, I need to see her as soon as I can.”
Being the girlfriend of a driver, Alicent can be in the paddock as much or as little as she wants, but typically she likes being up in the stands just for the sake of the view and the ambiance—also because sometimes watching the pit stops stresses her out more than she already is. Now, though, she heads downstairs towards the paddock, flashing her badge at security, although most of Red Bull’s security already knows who she is. She’s greeted with sympathetic glances, watching the pit stop take place. Rhaenyra seems to be moving and talking, though Alicent can’t make out what she’s saying. It’s enough just to see her.
Alicent takes a deep breath, wishing she could just talk to Rhaenyra. Everything is too quiet, no one is sure if Rhaenyra is going to continue racing and the status of Criston’s penalty is still somehow up in the air. Finally, after what feels like years passing by, flags go up and the race is set to continue with Rhaenyra in it. Unfortunately, Cole’s car is also repaired meaning they somehow right back where they started, cars firing back out onto the track. There are only seventeen racers left, since three crashed out earlier in the race. Albon was the first to crash out in lap fifteen, soon followed by Gasly a few laps later, with Alonso crashing out around lap forty. But not Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra is back in first, where she should be, only it’s somehow closer than it was before. Criston took a five second pit penalty meaning he’s back down to fourth and Hamilton has come up into second. Tyrell is back up to fifth, which means he can deal with Cole and hopefully overtake him—creating enough of a gap between Rhaenyra and Cole that the first place title is less of an issue for her. Alicent wishes he was just plain disqualified, but seeing as Rhaenyra is still racing and it’s the final race of the season, she’ll take all the penalty she can get.
A sharp turn lets Cole get back up to third while Hamilton continues to gain on Rhaenyra. It’s one of the closest races Alicent has seen this season (and she’s watched every one since Monaco). Rhaenyra picks up speed and is able to create a larger gap between her and Hamilton, but the maneuver gives Cole an opportunity to overtake. The question now is if he’ll pull it off in time or lose the window of opportunity. Alicent runs a hand through her hair, pulling a tie off her wrist and getting it off her neck in an attempt to maintain her sweating, though it’s almost certainly in vain.
Five laps remain and Rhaenyra is still in first, only Cole overtakes Hamilton on the verge of the 54th lap, causing a small gasp to fall from Alicent’s throat. Tyrell pulls into the pit, but Alicent can’t stop watching the race. The commentators have become white noise in her mind, her eyes only focusing on Rhaenyra’s car. It’s neck and neck with Criston, the announcers analyzing every camera angle possible to figure out who is going to take it.
55th lap and Rhaenyra remains in first, though it looks almost as if she and Criston pass the line at the same time and she is just begging Rhaenyra with her mind to lose this guy. 56. 57. No change. Alicent gulps as the cars both pass the line into the 58th and final lap.
“If she doesn’t just fucking—” Alicent groans, running a hand over her face as she watches with wide eyes. It shouldn’t be this close, it wasn’t supposed to be this close, something is wrong. Alicent can feel it. She watched that crash, she heard them talk about the impact, she doesn’t know how Rhaenyra is still racing.
She sees them coming around the corner—the same corner where she crashed fifteen laps ago and Alicent’s heart stops. She doesn’t think she’s ever cared so much about a goddamn car in her life than she does right now. She watches Rhaenyra pull out of the turn, Cole right behind her. She adjusts her turning path and it screws Cole up, forcing him to slam on his brakes and swerve into a wider, slower path in order to commit to the turn. Rhaenyra’s car is over the line. 25 points are hers, while Criston only gets fifteen. That puts the season total with Rhaenyra at 398 and Criston at 375. Alicent shouts along with the crowd in the paddock, sweat dripping down her neck as she watches Rhaenyra complete the circuit until she can slow down enough to pull into the pit. She waves to the crowd from the vehicle, her car on the big screen as the rest of the drivers work to finish the race.
It feels like ages before Rhaenyra pulls into the paddock, jumping out of the car with help from her team and taking off her helmet. Her hair is dripping with sweat and her face is caked with dried blood from her nose and Alicent immediately rolls her eyes because she just knows Rhaenyra denied herself medical attention in exchange for finishing the race.
“And your world champion for 2024 Formula One is, once again, Rhaenyra Targaryen with 398 points, her third title for her third year in the series, securing an eighth championship win for Red Bull Racing,” Alicent can hear over the speakers after tugging out her ear plugs. Journalists and microphones are swarming Rhaenyra, but she’s pushing past them because Alicent is already running for her.
She wraps her arms around Rhaenyra’s neck, letting the woman lift her up and give her a little spin. She smells like sweat, gasoline, and blood but Alicent doesn’t care. With her feet back down on the ground, she holds Rhaenyra’s face, fully aware of the amount of cameras on them but not caring in the slightest.
“I think this might be broken,” Alicent comments with a huff as she looks at Rhaenyra’s nose.
“That’s the first thing you say to me after I win the championship race?” Rhaenyra says with a laugh, pulling Alicent into a gentle kiss—to which she is very careful to avoid her definitely broken nose. When she pulls back, Rhaenyra breathes out, “Christ, I love you so much.”
Alicent laughs, caught off guard by the confession. They’ve danced around the subject of course, but her heart swells when she actually hears it. Everything fades to nothing around her as she meets Rhaenyra’s eyes, confessing, “I love you, too.”
“Rhaenyra, Rhaenyra,” she can hear the head of press trying to get to her for a post-race interview to which Alicent reluctantly lets her go. Well, she attempts to, but Rhaenyra keeps her grip on Alicent’s wrist tight, tugging her close until she can sling her arm around her shoulders. Alicent rolls her eyes but accepts her fate. “That was one of the closest races we’ve seen this whole season, but that turn at the end may have saved you. How do you feel about it?”
Rhaenyra’s breathless when she answers, “Shit, to be completely honest. I don’t know how I pulled that off, especially considering my head hurts like a bitch. I’d like to say it’s karma, maybe, from the universe for him turning into me a few laps ago. I’m delighted to take the title home, regardless, of course, it’s a fantastic honor. I’d like to thank my team for getting my car back on the road as quickly as they could. For a minute I thought it was over, but I wasn’t ready to give up. Thankfully, the chassis was intact and we had spares ready to go and a lightning fast team to make it happen. I’m certainly thankful for the people in the factories, manufacturing these parts, these parts that probably saved my life today and most certainly saved this race. It was a rocky season, only right that a rocky race finishes it off, am I right?”
Rhaenyra smiles and walks away from the camera, grabbing a towel from her crew and letting someone wipe the blood from her nose. Alicent follows her, anxious for the podium where Rhaenyra will be faced with the man who essentially tried to kill her. Thankfully, the Mercedes pit is further enough down the line that he hasn’t been seen yet. Rhaenyra sits with a medic who tells her that her nose is in fact broken and patches up what Alicent now notices as a tear in her uniform, followed by a shallow gash beneath it.
“Why did you keep going if you knew you were hurt?” Alicent asks with a huff, helping Rhaenyra pull her racing uniform back up, careful as it goes back over her shoulder. “God knows you’ve probably re-injured your shoulder and your nose and—”
“Alicent, Alicent,” Rhaenyra stops her, standing up to face her and bringing her hands to her face. Their eyes meet and Alicent takes in a deep breath. Nothing that happens in the race matters because winner or not, Rhaenyra is standing in front of her, alive and happy. It’s all she can ask for. “I’m alright. I’m better than alright, I’m the fucking world champion for the third year in a row. I do not care about a broken nose or my shoulder, all I care about is celebrating a historic win with my beautiful, gorgeous, amazing girlfriend.”
Alicent sighs, leaning up on her toes and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Congratulations. I think they have a trophy waiting for you.”
Rhaenyra laughs, tugging Alicent along as she’s ushered towards where the podium announcements will be taking place. Alicent stands where she’s allowed, watching Criston come up, prepared to take his spot for second place. Alicent seethes watching him stand there—not a scratch on him and he could have killed Rhaenyra, could have killed himself, all for a fucking title. She takes in a deep breath, trying to quell her anger as she watches Rhaenyra take her spot in first with a grin on her face and a stain of blood still beneath her nose. The announcement concludes and they open their bottles of champagne, something Alicent still finds to be a ridiculous waste of money—but then again, this sport is built on a foundation of wasting money, so it shouldn’t surprise her. Rhaenyra gets soaked, laughter falling from her lips as cameras disperse and most players are taken into prep. Rhaenyra, though, is forced to watch her final lap alongside Criston and Hamilton.
Alicent watches them discuss the different strategies and aspects of the race in a perfectly friendly manner, though Alicent can see in her face that Rhaenyra is seething. Once the major post-race events conclude, Alicent sighs a breath of relief.
“Alicent, right?” a voice interrupts her searching for Rhaenyra and she turns around to see Criston Cole standing right in front of her, holding out his hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Targaryen’s girlfriend, right?”
“Get the fuck away from me,” Alicent shoots off without even thinking about it. She has no propensity for being charming or coy right now, her anger bubbling to the surface the moment she sees his smug expression this close. “You almost killed my girlfriend today. Did you get bored in second place? I know you’re there a lot. Wanted to keep things interesting?”
“Woah, it was an accident,” he tells her, a smug grin still on his face. “I’m an honorable man, I wouldn’t resort to cheating.”
“Then why’d they stick you with that penalty?” Rhaenyra comes up, sliding her arm around Alicent’s waist protectively. “Maybe it’s all rigged against you, right? Isn’t that what you like to tell people? Don’t speak to my fucking girlfriend. See you next season.”
She follows Rhaenyra back to the paddock where they go into her office of sorts where she does her race preparation. Now alone with the door closed behind them, Alicent looks confused. “Don’t you have more press?”
Rhaenyra nods, while she’s actively pulling down the top half of her race suit. “My shoulder is fucking killing me. Just need a minute.”
“Okay, okay.” Alicent brushes her hair back away from her face and motions for Rhaenyra to sit down, searching through her back for her muscle relief cream she uses when it’s acting up. She sits down behind Rhaenyra, brushing her hands through her hair and pressing a kiss to her temple. Rhaenyra hums softly, her eyes slipping closed as Alicent begins to rub the cream into her shoulder. Her hands pass over the scars, feeling the roughness of her skin beneath her hands, pressing kisses to the nape of her neck as she works.
She can feel Rhaenyra wincing beneath her and she does her best to be as gentle as she can. In an attempt to distract her, she starts to talk, “Three months off, you excited?”
“Excited to bother you non-stop for three months, yeah,” Rhaenyra laughs, wincing slightly as Alicent begins to help her stretch out her shoulder. “Did you hear back about those jobs?”
Alicent nods. “I actually had an interview with British Vogue last week, but I haven’t heard back yet.”
“Back to your roots, then?” Rhaenyra turns to face her. She’s got bandages on her nose now, keeping its shape as light bruises begin to form beneath her eyes.
“As close as my roots can get without crossing the ocean, yes,” Alicent tells her with a laugh. “Okay, we’re going to do your stretches, but if it starts hurting too badly, you let me know right away, okay?”
“You sound just like my physical therapist, it’s almost scary.”
“Someone has to keep you in check,” Alicent reminds her, helping her to go through her routine stretches. “I can’t believe you crashed that hard and kept racing. I-I want to be mad at you so badly, but I’m honestly just impressed.”
Rhaenyra shrugs, her face contorting in pain as her shoulder stretches, but she doesn’t tell Alicent to stop. “This is the worst season I’ve ever driven in this series, I wasn’t going to end it on a loss.”
“Taking home the trophy and still calling it your worst,” Alicent scoffs, finishing up her routine. Rhaenyra turns to face her with a soft, smug look on her face. “You might just be one of the most impressive people I’ve ever met.”
“Says you,” Rhaenyra rolls her eyes, tugging Alicent closer to her. “Let me guess, they want you for Head of Editorial Content of Britain?”
“Close, directly below Nnadi and eventually her successor,” Alicent hums, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Rhaenyra’s cheek, the two of them staying there for a moment. “Come on, they’ll kill me if I keep you from press for too long. We’ll talk at dinner.”
Rhaenyra groans, but lets Alicent drag her out of the paddock anyway. As it turns out, being champion of the F1 series means you have a fair amount of responsibility. Alicent is happy to stand to the side and watch her get her glory. After interviews, Mysaria finds her and extends her congratulations.
“I can’t believe you’re into fucking Formula One now,” Mysaria mutters as they watch Rhaenyra talk to another magazine. “You used to make fun of me for all my sports, but look at your cuticles.”
Alicent rolls her eyes. “If you had told me the hottest woman alive drove for F1, I would have started paying attention a lot sooner.”
“Whatever,” Mysaria muses with a cheeky smile on her face, “Just don’t forget to celebrate properly tonight.”
She winks and walks away to which Alicent just shakes her head slightly. That being said, she can’t wait to get Rhaenyra back to the hotel tonight. Not for anything in particular, just to be alone with her, away from all the noise. Able to relish in the success in peace. She checks her phone, her Twitter feed now an embarrassing amount of F1 related things.
Rhaenyra Targayen and her girlfriend, Alicent Hightower, celebrate the historic win—Targaryen’s third title and Red Bull Racing’s 8th total. Below the tweet is a photo someone took while Rhaenyra had Alicent mid-air, blood still on her face but a smile, too. The next one she hadn’t even realized someone was taking—a photo of her when she kissed Rhaenyra’s forehead. She saves the picture without even thinking about it, looking up to meet Rhaenyra’s eyes, glancing over at her mid-interview. God, she is so in love.
“Don’t even think about moving,” Alicent tells Rhaenyra with a stern voice. The two of them are finally alone for the first time all day and Alicent thinks if she never sees another Red Bull logo, it’ll be too soon. Of course, there will be events and preparations required for next season and any time off is hardly time off at all, but she has Rhaenyra tonight, right beneath her. Rhaenyra’s propped against the pillows with her nose still bandaged along with the scrape on her arm and a handful of bruises all over.
“I’m not moving,” Rhaenyra whispers, eyes wide as she looks up at Alicent who is currently straddling her hips and running her fingers over the bruises, not hard enough to hurt. “You know I’ve gotten out of races with far worse injuries than this.”
Alicent sighs, her hands resting on Rhaenyra’s stomach softly, fiddling with the fabric of the button-up she’d worn to dinner. “I know, but it's different to see it up close. You don't know how scared I was. I—you didn't move.”
“Hey, hey,” Rhaenyra sits up (despite Alicent’s very clear instructions) and grabs Alicent into her arms, holding her tightly. “I’m good, I’m okay. These things happen, but the cars these days are so safe, I’m fine. I ended up okay. Don't worry about what might have happened, I’m here.”
Alicent buries her face in the crook of Rhaenyra’s shoulder, breathing in the scent of her to ground herself. She brings one hand up to cup her face, bringing her lips to the line of Rhaenyra’s jaw and kissing down her neck. “You are here. You are here and I have you all to myself.”
Rhaenyra hums, letting Alicent undo the buttons of her shirt with gentle fingers. Alicent is careful to avoid her nose as she presses kisses to her cheek, stealing one chaste, careful kiss from her lips. She tugs Rhaenyra's shirt down her shoulders slowly, careful as she goes down her bruised and scarred arm. She hates to see Rhaenyra in pain, but if she's having any issues right now, it doesn't show on her face.
With her shirt gone, Alicent shifts, pushing Rhaenyra down by her good shoulder, pressing her gently against the mattress as she kisses down her chest. Rhaenyra sighs and Alicent can practically feel the tension leaving her body as Rhaenyra’s hands tangle in her hair. She sighs contentedly beneath Alicent’s lips, hips bucking softly.
“If you feel any pain, you have to tell me or I’ll kill you myself.”
Rhaenyra chuckles, “Baby, my entire body is sore right now, any extra pain is hardly noticeable and impossible to think about when you look the way you do right now.”
Alicent rolls her eyes, but her hands go to Rhaenyra's waistband anyway. After all, they are celebrating and she intends to take good care of her champion. Rhaenyra lifts her hips to help Alicent with her pants and she’s quick to toss them aside, settling between her thighs. There are bruises on her outer thigh where she must have gotten slammed against the side of the car earlier that day. Alicent sighs, running a hand over the bruise lightly, just hovering over it. She’s here, she’s okay.
She looks up at Rhaenyra from between her thighs, pressing a kiss to the inside of her thigh. “It’s scary how much I care about you, you know?”
Rhaenyra nods, her attention entirely on Alicent. Her eyes are wide as her hand caresses Alicent's hair softly. She looks down at Alicent with a smile, speaking quietly, “I've never felt this about anyone before, Alicent.”
“Good,” she chuckles, feeling a swell of pride as she reaches for the waistband of Rhaenyra’s briefs, determined to remind her exactly how she feels about Alicent. Rhaenyra gasps softly as Alicent’s teeth nip at the sensitive skin of her thigh, slowly inching closer to where she knows Rhaenyra really wants her. The hand in her hair tightens the closer she gets, her heart racing knowing Rhaenyra is this close—knowing how badly she wants her.
She’s still wearing her dress from dinner, a strange shift in the power between them since Alicent didn’t want Rhaenyra moving too much, but Alicent finds herself enjoying it quite a bit. She loves the way Rhaenyra looks at her—looking like she wants to eat her alive. With gentle hands, she lifts one of Rhaenyra’s thighs to her shoulder, kissing the flesh there one more time before she decides she’s done enough teasing.
Rhaenyra gasps and Alicent dips her tongue into her dripping folds, licking up the evidence of her desire as she takes her time exploring, listening to the way Rhaenyra’s breath hitches beneath her, skin pulsing. Alicent is determined to take her time, but with the noises Rhaenyra makes, that notion is becoming increasingly difficult. She dips her tongue down towards Rhaenyra’s entrance, teasing it but not quite intruding, just feeling the way Rhaenyra moves. It isn't until she begins to tease at her clit does she let herself speed up, Rhaenyra’s soft gasp music to her ears.
Alicent can't help herself. She dives into Rhaenyra, picking up her pace though careful not to grip her thighs near any of her bruising. Rhaenyra’s hands scrape against her scalp with blunt nails, a moan falling from her lips as her tongue swirls around her clit, licking up every drop she can. She shifts downward once more, dipping her tongue into her entrance as she lets her nose bump into her clit in tandem with her tongue, feeling the way Rhaenyra jumps.
Her hand coasts against the plane of Rhaenyra’s stomach, flat against her and keeping her down against the mattress, shooting her a warning look even though she doubts she’ll reprimand her properly. She can feel Rhaenyra squirming, one hand gripping the sheets as the other yanks on Alicent's hair, shoving her face deeper between her thighs. Alicent breathes it in, her own movements becoming desperate as she chases Rhaenyra’s release with her tongue. Rhaenyra gasps as she comes, holding onto Alicent for dear life before tugging her up away from her thighs so she can kiss Alicent's neck.
“Rhaenyra, your nose,” Alicent chastises with a giggle, her hand slipping between Rhaenyra’s legs to tease her clit and help her through her come down.
“Fuck my nose,” Rhaenyra mutters, pulling back and tilting her head so she can kiss Alicent anyway. “I broke it when I was fifteen, it was already crooked.”
“You know that's not what I’m talking about,” she laughs, falling back down against the mattress beside Rhaenyra and letting the woman encircle her in her arms.
Rhaenyra tugs her closer with a sigh, asking, “Can I please touch you?”
“I thought your entire body was sore and in pain?” Alicent asks with a huff, trying desperately not to be charmed by the mischievous grin on Rhaenyra's face.
“Yeah, but you’re just so beautiful and much too clothed, it’s really not fair,” Rhaenyra bemoans, fingers playing with the hem of Alicent's dress and slowly tugging it up her thighs. “We can lie right here and I’ll take care of you, no strenuous activity required.”
“You're going to hurt yourself.”
“I have three months off,” Rhaenyra counters and the higher Rhaenyra’s hands get on her thighs the harder it's getting to be concerned about her current state. It’s not that she doesn't want Rhaenyra's hands on her—she can feel herself dripping between her thighs, soaking her lacy black underwear to absolute ruins—it’s just that the last thing she wants is Rhaenyra hurting herself on her behalf.
Alicent breathes in a deep sigh as Rhaenyra’s hands climb up her thighs, disappearing beneath the hem of her dress and just barely brushing against her soaked underwear. Her breath hitches and her eyes flick up to meet Rhaenyra’s—Rhaenyra who currently has a devilish grin on her face as her knuckle brushed back and forth against Alicent's underwear.
“If it hurts—”
“I’ll stop,” Rhaenyra whispers, her lips excruciatingly close to Alicent’s. She gasps as Rhaenyra pushes her underwear aside, her eyes not leaving Alicent’s face, watching her every move as fingers brush against her clit, teasing her. Her eyelids flutter closed as Rhaenyra explores her folds, teeth gnawing at her lip as she relishes in the feeling of her warm breath fanning against her skin.
She gasps as Rhaenyra pushes two fingers into her, pumping slowly and stretching out her fingers with each inward press. Alicent grips her good shoulder for purchase, pushing her face deeper against the mattress as a slow moan falls from her lips. Rhaenyra teases her clit with her thumb, taking Alicent apart all too slowly. Then again, they do have all night.
A whine falls from her lips when Rhaenyra adds a third finger, pushing her hips down against her touch in a languid, passion-infused movement. She grabs onto Rhaenyra’s shoulder, probably tight enough to add to her current bruise collection, but if Rhaenyra feels it, she doesn’t complain. Her movements begin to speed up, but Alicent still finds herself desperate for it. Rhaenyra seems determined to drive her crazy, but she doesn’t mind, she just lets her teeth worry her lip raw as quiet moans and desperate pleas fall from gentle lips.
She shifts, burying her head in the crook of Rhaenyra’s shoulder as she feels her orgasm pressing closer with each passing moment. Alicent kisses softly at her neck and shoulder, a whine falling from her lip as Rhaenyra coaxes her to the edge. She can feel her stomach tightening, nerves alight with electricity as she chases the feeling of Rhaenyra’s fingers inside of her.
Alicent groans, keeping her grip tight on Rhaenyra as her movements falter, her orgasm rattling through her as a desperate whine falls from her lips. Rhaenyra holds her close, a hand on the small of her back, burning through the fabric of her dress as she fucks her through it. She presses gentle kisses to Alicent’s jaw and she doesn’t have the energy to make a comment about her nose, she just lets Rhaenyra know her own limits as the high washes over her.
She sighs contentedly as Rhaenyra pulls out of her, humming against her neck and still playing with the hem of her skirt. Whispering in Alicent’s ear, she says, “We should take a bath.”
“You’re insatiable,” Alicent laughs, though she’s certainly not complaining. She pulls herself away from Rhaenyra, content to let her lie in bed all night if she wants to, as she goes to draw a bath. Her silent wishes are denied, though, as she hears Rhaenyra climb out after her.
She appears in the bathroom, wrapping her arms around Alicent’s waist from the back and resting her head on her shoulder. Alicent continues checking the water temperature while bringing one hand up to caress her face, thumbing softly through her hair. They’ll go back to London tomorrow and Alicent will go back to work, but right now, all she feels is absolute peace.
Rhaenyra kisses the skin of her shoulder before tugging at the straps of her dress, letting it fall to the tiled floor as the bath fills. Alicent chuckles softly, turning to look at Rhaenyra with a soft smile on her face. She brings her hand to her chin, holding her face as she says, “I really do love you. I’m sorry for getting on you about your injuries and the race, I just—”
“You’re just what? A caring and attentive girlfriend? How dare you?” Rhaenyra teases, kissing Alicent’s forehead before stepping into the warm water. Alicent steps in after her, settling in between Rhaenyra’s legs and against her chest. She kisses beneath Alicent’s ear. “I love you, too. It’s nice to have someone… here, you know. I’m not used to that.”
“You never let any of your model girlfriends see you after a race?”
Rhaenyra scoffs, “None of them were ever really… serious. Not like this. I mean, I certainly never let any of them nurse me back to health.”
“The medic team nursed you back to health,” Alicent says with a shrug, letting her head rest against Rhaenyra as the warm water soaks her through. She can’t remember the last time she was this comfortable with anyone she was dating—she can’t remember the last time she’s even dated anyone this long.
“You’ve taken better care of my shoulder all season than I have,” Rhaenyra reminds her with a laugh, arms snaking around her waist and keeping her close. “I’m kind of sad to have time off, because I do love the sight of you in a paddock.”
Alicent rolls her eyes, adjusting her position so she can look up and narrow her eyes at Rhaenyra, “Or you can love the sight of me in bed at my apartment in London where no one will bother us all day or all night or…”
“That sounds nice, too.”
“Oh, just nice?”
Rhaenyra chuckles, her fingers brushing up against Alicent’s sides beneath the water. Alicent settles into the touch, letting her eyes slip closed. “Sounds perfect. Though, of course, we won’t have all day since someone is going to have her big, fancy, magazine job. Casually one of the biggest magazines in the world, actually.”
“Yeah, but I’ll be high up enough that I can take as much vacation time as I want and everyone just has to deal with it,” she sighs contentedly, fingers tracing patterns on Rhaenyra’s thighs. “I’m sure we’ll make it work.”
“What if we make it work… together? In just one apartment?”
“Is that your way of asking me to move in with you?”
Rhaenyra shifts, brushing her fingers through Alicent’s hair with a soft hum. “Yeah, I think it is.”
“And you’re not just asking me this because you’re still riding the high of being the world champion?”
“I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” Rhaenyra whispers in her ear. “I think it was… Austria? First race after I hurt my shoulder again and I got home to London and my apartment was just… empty. Hated it. I never used to hate being alone until I met you.”
Alicent turns around in the water, one hand braced on the edge of the tub as she turns to look at Rhaenyra, brow furrowed. “Rhaenyra, we’d been dating maybe a month by the time Austria was over.”
“Yeah, but I waited until now to ask, so I’m not perpetuating any stereotypes.” She leans forward, brushing a strand of hair behind Alicent’s ear. “You’re allowed to say no. But my place has plenty of room and I would love nothing more than to share it with you.”
Alicent tilts her head, looking at Rhaenyra with soft, wide eyes. She brings a hand to Rhaenyra’s face, biting her lip and nodding softly. “I’d love that, too.”
Chapter 3
Notes:
i was so overwhelmingly moved by watching charles leclerc win the italian gp this morning that i had no choice but to write a third part to this because i just missed f1 rhaenicent also in this universe lewis never went to ferrari he's still on merc SORRY also if you catch lando shade in this chapter GOOD im sick of his ass and it maybe shined through a little bit... anyways enjoy
Chapter Text
“It’s always the fucking car with you,” Alicent groans, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration as she stands in a hotel room overlooking Italy. She crosses her arms, watching the people mill about below. Rhaenyra sits behind her on the edge of the bed, her leg bouncing with anxiety. She should have gone to bed hours ago, but it’s impossible for her to sleep. Her first year on Ferrari and Rhaenyra is struggling. Well—struggling for her, to anyone else she would probably still be doing remarkable. She’s second in the running for the championship with seven races left, but the gap between her and first is getting more and more dangerous if she doesn’t start winning races again soon. Summer break was spent with a ridiculous amount of sim racing, but Alicent was grateful to squeeze one little vacation to Monaco in there (Alicent is a bit fond of re-visiting the place they met, sue her, she’s sentimental). Now that the break is over, though, Rhaenyra has been nothing but a ball of anxiety. She’s one year into a three year contract with one of the most famous teams of all time, but it’s been tearing her apart.
“It’s not the same,” Rhaenyra mutters, running a hand through her hair. “I mean, Mclaren this year is just insane—”
“Rhaenyra,” Alicent huffs, turning around to face her girlfriend with a stern expression on her face. “I love you, you are a brilliant racer, the car is not the fucking problem and you know it’s not. You could race in a fucking tin can and probably still catch second. Hell, you could race for Alpine and probably take the championship because you’re you.”
Rhaenyra rolls her eyes. “If I was racing for Alpine, I’d probably retire after the first lap for half of the season. I think Gasly’s retired more races than he’s finished at this point. This is different. Something about the Ferrari… I can’t get it to work with me.”
“Leclerc made it ten seconds ahead of both Mclarens last year like a bat out of hell in that Ferrari. You should know better than anyone that it’s not about the car, it’s about how you drive it. Christ, you’re starting to sound like Norris.”
“That hurts, you’re being hurtful on purpose,” Rhaenyra retorts, standing up from the bed and beginning to pace the room. “Something about this season is off, Alicent. I mean—I’m getting old, the car’s wonky, and I just don’t have it like I used to. Maybe last year was just it for me. I’m not gonna be champion again.”
“You have been racing for six years, Rhaenyra, and in four of those you have taken the championship title. People are starting to compare you to Lewis, you already have the third most wins in history in six years. I didn’t know anything about racing until two years ago and even I know that’s insane.” Alicent isn’t sure what to do here. They’ve had some variation of this conversation over and over and over again over the course of this entire season. As much as Alicent tries to be supportive, she isn’t sure how much longer she can talk Rhaenyra down off of the ledge. She can’t remember the last time they had sex. Or the last time they talked about anything other than racing. “You are killing yourself over something you have complete control over.”
Rhaenyra pauses in the middle of the room, looking at Alicent, “You’re getting sick of this, I can see it on your face.”
“Yeah, because I’m your girlfriend, not your coach, but I feel like that’s all I’ve been doing lately,” Alicent exclaims, a scoff falling from her lips. “It’s like you’ve completely forgotten that I exist except for when you need to rant about how the tires are degrading faster than you want them to.”
“This isn’t just a job for me, Alicent, you knew that when you started dating me.”
“And I love that about you, I love how passionate you are,” Alicent reminds her. “You used to come alive when you were racing, you’d come out of these races sweaty and smiling, but that’s gone. And I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this and you can hate me for it all you want, but it’s not the team, and it’s not the car, it’s you, Rhaenyra. Until you can fix this mental cage you’ve trapped yourself in, you’re never going to be the racer you were and we both know this.”
Rhaenyra goes silent for a long time, wringing her hands together in front of her as she avoids Alicent’s eyes. Eventually, she clears her throat softly and looks up. “I think I’m gonna get another room tonight.”
“Rhaenyra,” Alicent starts, a gentle sigh leaving her throat as she attempts to take a step towards Rhaenyra, but the woman only backs up. Alicent’s heart pangs at the response, a flash of hurt flowing through her that she’s almost certain reflects in her expression. She locks up immediately. “If that’s how you want to be, then fine. Go. Get some rest, you’ve got a second place to catch.”
“Oh, fuck you,” Rhaenyra spits. It lacks real anger—more petty annoyance than anything, though that’s what most of their fights are made of these days, but it still catches Alicent off guard. Rhaenyra stumbles over herself for a moment, clearly disrupted by her own outburst as she registers the tensing of Alicent’s stance. “Fuck—whatever, I’m going.”
Alicent’s eye twitches as she watches Rhaenyra grab her phone and shoes and head out the door. It doesn’t slam, but it may as well have. Alicent stands there for a moment, waiting for Rhaenyra to come back so they can calm down and apologize to each other, but the seconds pass into minutes and nothing changes. Alicent huffs, wiping away the tears that had been threatening to spill down her cheeks from the wells of her eyes and climbs into bed, already missing the warmth of her girlfriend. If she wanted to be petty, she could organize a flight back to London for the evening, leave Rhaenyra in the dust, but she can’t bring herself to do anything other than lie in bed and wish Rhaenyra was there. Alicent falls asleep with her palm resting against the unoccupied spot.
Going to the race was something Alicent heavily considered not doing—it was blisteringly hot, she’s pissed at Rhaenyra (and Rhaenyra is undoubtedly pissed at her), and her girlfriend is likely going to lose. Yet, Alicent still finds herself standing in the paddock with a set of headphones on her head, the mic pushed to the side as she watches the cars prepare to begin with her arms crossed. She had just missed Rhaenyra in the paddock—something she, admittedly, planned. If only for Rhaenyra’s sake because she didn’t want to upset the woman right before the race—upset drivers make mistakes and mistakes in this sport can cost a whole lot more than some hurt feelings. Alicent still remembers the fear from Abu Dhabi two years ago—the feeling of complete and utter powerlessness as she watched Rhaenyra’s car wreck, not knowing if the woman was okay.
Since then, Rhaenyra’s had few collisions—most of them nothing more than wheel contact, but it still gives Alicent heart palpitations to think about. So, she didn’t let Rhaenyra see her before the race. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to skip it altogether. Even if she’s been nothing but frustrated with her, she still loves her and she would never forgive herself if she missed a good race when she had the opportunity to be there. She’s been so busy with Vogue lately, that she missed most of the races the first chunk of the season, but she has some time off before fashion week kicks up again, which means she couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.
She watches the formation lap with bated breath, already resisting the urge to bite her nails down to the quick. She knows Ferrari was a good place for Rhaenyra—first of all, she looks fantastic in red, but secondly, Red Bull was failing her. Her team didn’t know what to do with her, the car wasn’t working the way she wanted it to, and things just fell apart so quickly Alicent almost didn’t know what to make of it. She had the choice between Williams or Ferrari and the choice had been obvious. She just wishes Rhaenyra would get out of her own head.
Rhaenyra qualified third, which is not the best for her, but still good for the race. The only problem being that Mclaren secured a first row lockout—something that has been more and more common as Piastri has been gaining confidence with the Mclaren car. It’s going to take some skilled driving and gnarly gas pedal to beat them. Alicent thinks Rhaenyra can do it—she knows Rhaenyra can. She just needs to get her shit together.
She wishes Mysaria or Harwin were here so she didn’t have to stew in silence, but all she has now is the Ferrari team and Charles’s girlfriend Lexi. The cars file into place and the lights start. Five lights—Alicent takes a deep breath—and then it’s lights out in Monza. Alicent watches in a huff as the first lap begins—Lando fumbles first immediately with Oscar taking the lead and an open space allows Rhaenyra to ease up into second place without much thought. Alicent breathes a sigh of relief, but there’s still fifty-three laps to go.
It’s around ten laps in when a sharp turn causes Rhaenyra to get pushed into the dirt by Norris coming up behind her. Alicent watches as Rhaenyra recovers, but loses her spot and now sits where she began in third. She can hear Rhaenyra’s voice over the radio, “That’s damage on the front wing.”
Alicent hears the grainy reply from the team, “That’ll be bad for tires if that comes off. We’ll box when it does.”
She groans internally at this—replacing the front of the car will mean at least a ten second pit stop and Rhaenyra can’t afford that right now. Sainz is coming up close in fourth and all Alicent hopes for is that she can get a better gap between the two of them before she has to head for the pit lane. Rhaenyra’s started off on a hard tyre today—perfect for this track, but an early pit stop will screw their one stop strategy. Italy is a quick, winding race which means most drivers won’t stop more than once, but there’s no way Rhaenyra doesn’t pit within the next five laps. Alicent tries to steady her breath.
Another messy turn, though thankfully without damage, but Rhaenyra’s angry voice comes over the radio. “How the fuck is Sainz getting away with this? Christ, he’s turning into Cole.”
Alicent stifles a laugh at the mention of Cole who thankfully retired last year after terrorizing the grid for another year after he almost killed Rhaenyra. Every time he does the post-race interviews, Alicent makes sure to “accidentally” step on his foot with the sharpest part of her heel. Thankfully, it’s just Nico doing the post-race interviews today.
Sure enough, Rhaenyra pits by lap fourteen and the front of her car is replaced, dropping her down to fifth by the time she exits. Alicent curses softly, biting and chewing at her nails as she watches Rhaenyra struggle to catch up to Sainz. It’s frankly spectacular what he’s able to do with a Williams car—which unfortunately proves exactly the point Alicent was trying to make to Rhaenyra last night.
It’s another fifteen laps before Rhaenyra is even able to get back up to fourth and the race is already half over. Her tyres are degrading, Alicent hears as much over the radio, and it’s a two second pit stop to get her new tyres for (hopefully) the remainder of the race. She swears—in the two point two seconds Rhaenyra is in the pit, she turns her head and sees Alicent, though there’s a slim chance she’s just making things up in her head to make herself feel better.
After the second—and ideally final—pit stop, Rhaenyra is flying. Alicent watches as she comes out of sixth and overtakes Perez in fifth, before a rocky turn sends Sainz back, allowing Rhaenyra to take fourth. Two overtakes in one lap has Alicent bursting at the seams, anxious for the remaining twenty-odd laps. Never has she in her life wanted more than to just scream at Rhaenyra to just keep fucking driving.
By two laps, Rhaenyra is in third and Alicent nods along to the steady thrum of her heart, hanging on by a thread as she watches Rhaenyra’s place rise and the number of laps left go down. All she has left to beat are the two Mclarens—a daunting task for even the best constructor. Alicent doesn’t know what to do with herself. She can hardly watch as the laps go on, the gap between Rhaenyra and Norris closing and closing as time goes on.
Lando fumbles a turn going into lap forty-three and Rhaenyra is in second place. Alicent remembers her comment from last night with a pang. She wonders if that’s what Rhaenyra thinks of now, though nothing in her voice on the radio betrays her thoughts towards Alicent. She almost wishes she would—if only so she could know. Unfortunately, though, Alicent knows that right now—her relationship is not more important than the .5 second gap between Rhaenyra and Oscar heading into the forty-forth lap of the race.
It’s beautiful driving from both of them—which is the worst part. Oscar gets a bit of a lead once they enter DRS range on the straight and Alicent sighs. The straights are where Rhaenyra struggles to gain advantage, even with the bonus of DRS helping her. It’s where the Ferrari’s faults truly begin to shine. The turn however, halfway through lap forty-four and two laps after Piastri sets the fastest lap of the race, is where Oscar goes wide and Rhaenyra is able to sneak through.
Alicent pulls one headphone off so she can hear the commentator, shouting— “And that is a new race leader, Rhaenyra Targaryen takes the lead in the Italian Grand Prix with a beautifully executed overtake.”
“How are your tyres?” they ask over the radio.
“Shit,” is Rhaenyra’s curt response. Alicent can practically hear her gritting her teeth, “I’m not pitting. Plan A can still work, we can still work with Plan A.”
On a manufacturer level, there is no way Rhaenyra can outrun a Mclaren for nine more laps on degrading tyres. Alicent knows this, the pit crew knows this, the audience knows this. Yet, it’s hard to believe such a thing when the gap between Rhaenyra and Piastri stretches from one second to three to six in what feels like no time at all. Rhaenyra drives like a bat out of hell as they cross over into the forty-fifth lap and for a moment—Alicent allows herself to hope.
She’s only won six races this season—she’ll argue five, considering one of the titles was due to a disqualification, but Alicent won’t hear it. With seven still to go for the remainder of the season, her championship is on the line more and more. She needs this one. If not for the points, just so she can get some fucking confidence back. Alicent can feel herself sweating as the laps remaining goes from eight to seven to six. Rhaenyra sets a fastest lap—Alicent could cry. The gap between first and second sits pretty at six seconds and Alicent watches the numbers carefully, as if they’ll change the moment she looks away.
Five laps to go. The gap is now seven seconds and only getting larger. Alicent can hardly believe it. She feels like she’s watching Rhaenyra race for the first time again—watching Rhaenyra cross the finish line first in Monaco three years ago, giddy with the flutters of a new crush and a night well spent. She can feel Rhaenyra’s passion bleeding from the racetrack for the first time in months. Alicent feels as if new life has been breathed into her. Five laps becomes two. Alicent doesn’t breathe.
Red crosses the finish line first. Alicent doesn’t realize she’s crying until she feels the first tear hit the collar of her shirt. She listens to the sound of Rhaenyra cheering over the radio, pulling the mic down to speak, but she’s so overwhelmed she can hardly think of a single thing to say. She watches as Rhaenyra takes the winning lap with a fist raised in the air, tugging the headphones off of her head as she all but runs over to the placemarkers for the podium drivers. She watches as Rhaenyra finishes her lap, sliding into first place.
Alicent expects Rhaenyra to run over to the team—they’re waiting for her all dressed up in red, the energy of the crowd abuzz, but instead, Rhaenyra tosses off her helmet—her short blonde locks sweat soaked and all over the place—and runs straight for Alicent.
She barely has time to wrap her arms around Rhaenyra’s neck before she’s hoisted up into the air by Rhaenyra’s strong arms around her waist. She yelps and giggles, burying her face in the crook of Rhaenyra’s shoulder before the woman drops her back down on the ground.
Alicent takes a moment to hold her face, eyes searching Rhaenyra’s for any sign of last night’s anger, but it’s just pure adoration. Rhaenyra leans forward and kisses her deeply, the crowd bursting into cheers behind them. Relief floods through Alicent as she tastes the salt of the sweat on Rhaenyra’s lips, basking in the feel of her. Eventually, Rhaenyra breaks away and runs over to her team for the celebration, jumping up into the crowd of people amidst the cheering and applause. Eventually, she goes to shake the hands of the two drivers who ended up behind her—Piastri and Sainz before they’re led over to the podium for interviews and further celebration.
She follows with the team, unable to wipe the smile off her face as the post-race interviews begin. Rhaenyra is still out of breath as she waits for her cue, eyes meeting Alicent’s as she raises her eyebrows slightly, eliciting a giggle from the other woman.
Finally, it’s time for Rhaenyra’s interview.
“Rhaenyra, now, I can’t remember the last time I saw racing like that from Ferrari. You struggled for the first half of the race, you had some damage, but after that pit, you were unlike anything I’ve seen this season. Where did that come from?” Nico asks, a hand on his hip as he holds the microphone out to Rhaenyra.
“Well, to be totally honest, my girlfriend kind of kicked my ass last night after she had a bit too much of my whining. I didn’t know she was here today until that second pit stop and I caught a glimpse of her and I just—I knew I had to win. Not just because I love her, but I really just hate to lose an argument. I do love her, though, more than anything.”
Alicent scoffs, a flush of pink crawling up her cheeks as she watches the camera find her. Laughter and applause ripples through the crowd as Alicent waves shyly before the camera flips back to the interview. “Brilliant race today, then, Rhaenyra, it’s great to have you back.”
Rhaenyra thanks him before heading off to the cooldown room. Alicent watches her discuss the race with Oscar and Carlos, anxious for the celebrations to be over so she can properly have Rhaenyra all to herself. Selfish—absolutely, but Alicent can’t bring herself to care that much. She feels alive again, new life breathed into her from watching this race. She wants to share that with Rhaenyra more than anything.
After what feels like ages, the podium passes and the British national anthem plays. Alicent watches as Rhaenyra gets absolutely doused in champagne alongside her trophy before she’s finally free from her obligations. She runs over to Alicent as soon as she can, pressing a wet kiss to her cheek, rubbing champagne all over her skin as she does so, as the two of them head back to the paddock.
Rhaenyra’s arm slides around her waist as they walk, Alicent opening the conversation first, “I cannot believe you win and the first thing you do is tell everyone we got into a fight.”
“They have to know my girl keeps me honest,” Rhaenyra says, pressing a kiss to Alicent’s temple as Rhaenyra enters her small room where she has dry clothes waiting for her. Alicent sits patiently as the woman changes. She’ll be able to shower properly once they get back to the hotel, but right now all she can do is get out of her uniform. Alicent watches the way the scarring on her shoulder contorts with her movements, eyes following the expanses of skin now available to her as Rhaenyra changes. “I do want to apologize, though, you were right.”
“I could’ve been nicer about it, though,” Alicent sighs, running a hand through her hair. “You’ve already been dealing with so much, you don’t need me making it harder on you.”
She watches as Rhaenyra tugs a black tank top over her chest along with loose black slacks. Rhaenyra leans down to kiss Alicent’s forehead softly. “I wouldn’t have won if you weren’t hard on me. I just… you don’t only like me when I’m winning, do you?”
Rhaenyra squats down in front of her, eyes wide as she grabs where Alicent’s hands rest on her lap. She brings her hand to caress the back of Rhaenyra’s head, the woman’s face falling into her lap as she looks up at Alicent. “You fell in love with a champion, I’d understand if you got bored once I started losing. I mean, we don’t even—”
“Rhaenyra,” Alicent begins softly, fingers threading through Rhaenyra’s hair as the woman rests on her knees in front of her. She can see the exhaustion in her bones—after a race like that, Alicent can’t imagine how it must be affecting her physically. “It’s not that I don’t love you because you’re not winning. I love you so much, all I want is to see you happy. It’s been miserable watching you stress yourself out over this. It’s one rough season. You’ve broken records, Rhaenyra, you break records just by existing in this sport, I feel like you forgot who you are a bit. It’s not that I’m going to fall out of love with you because you aren’t a champion, it’s that I know you’re always going to be a champion. You’ve forgotten that.”
“I’m sorry,” Rhaenyra mutters, pressing a kiss to the bare skin of Alicent’s thigh peeking out beneath her skirt. Alicent shivers at the touch, her breath hitching. “You’re right. I’ve been in my head. I’ve been neglecting you.”
“It’s race season, I get it. Besides, I’ve been slammed with work and—”
“That never used to stop us before,” Rhaenyra hums, her cheek grazing the skin of Alicent’s thigh as she looks up at her. Her thumb teases beneath the fabric of Alicent’s skirt and a chill runs down her spine at the featherlight touch. “Let me make up for lost time.”
Alicent chuckles, nerves lacing the sound. “You have to be out celebrating your win, darling.”
“I can be quick,” Rhaenyra shrugs. Alicent lets her hand fall to Rhaenyra’s shoulder, fingers brushing over the scars in an act that has become so familiar to her over the years. She lets herself lean back against the wall, her legs spreading ever so slightly. Her heart thrums with nervous excitement, desire pooling within her. It’s been months since they were last together like this in any sense of the word and needless to say, Alicent has been a little pent up.
Rhaenyra kisses up the soft flesh of her thighs, pushing Alicent’s loose skirt up her thighs further and further. Careful hands tug her underwear down over her boots until the soaked fabric sits between her legs and Alicent breathes a deep breath, back arching as she tries to push her hips closer and closer to Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra’s teeth sink into the skin of her thigh and Alicent shudders, one hand gripping Rhaenyra’s shoulder as she gets closer to the wetness of her aching cunt.
Alicent clasps a hand over her mouth when Rhaenyra’s tongue first dips into her folds—exploring her gently and seemingly determined to hit every single one of her nerves. Rhaenyra’s tongue dances around her clit, circling the erect bundle of nerves with expert precision, applying pressure just where Alicent wants it. She moans against the flesh of her own hand, hips bucking out against Rhaenyra’s face as her other hand tangles in her sweat and champagne soaked hair.
She wishes they didn’t have to be quiet because when Rhaenyra brings her hand up and presses two fingers into her entrance, Alicent wants to scream. Instead, she settles for biting the flesh of her palm and relishing in the grip Rhaenyra has on her thigh along with the feeling of being filled by her. She throws her head back, letting it thunk against the wall in a way that sends a pleasurable ripple of pain down her spine. It’s been so long and she’s been so stressed that she already knows she isn’t going to last long, not with the pace Rhaenyra is setting.
Still, she tries to hold on, not wanting this to end. She grips Rhaenyra’s scalp tightly enough to pull her mouth away from her cunt, forcing Rhaenyra to focus on fucking into her with her two fingers as her lips find Alicent’s thigh, sucking soft red marks into her skin that she knows will bruise later. Alicent groans as she drops her hand, biting her lip so tightly she thinks she may draw blood, her eyes flitting down to meet Rhaenyra’s.
Rhaenyra is just watching her, eyes catching every change in Alicent’s expression as she fucks into her with a third finger, her mouth open in a silent gasp as she watches Alicent fall apart beneath her touch as if she’s discovering her all over again. Alicent stifles a broken moan as she comes, clenching and pulsing around Rhaenyra’s fingers as her eyes slip closed, her vision whiting out as her orgasm wrecks her. Alicent breathes a shuddering breath as her grip on Rhaenyra loosens, carding through her loose locks instead of tugging.
“Told you,” Rhaenyra mumbles with a shit-eating grin on her face, pressing her cheek against the inside of Alicent’s thigh. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful. I love you so much.”
“Good, I was starting to think you forgot,” Alicent comments, feeling completely and utterly breathless. “I love you, too.”
Rhaenyra helps Alicent tug her underwear back up and Alicent grabs her by her chin, using her thumb to rub off any remnants of herself on Rhaenyra’s face. She concludes the act by tugging the woman into a kiss. Rhaenyra rises from her knees if only to collapse more so into her lap, the two of them practically falling over on the small bench in a vain attempt to become completely entangled with one another.
“I don’t only like you when you’re winning,” Alicent whispers against her lips, “but if this is going to be what happens when you do win, I’m going to need you to get back to it.”
Rhaenyra laughs, kissing Alicent softly as her hands run through Alicent’s curls. “Anything you say, darling. I’m sorry for leaving last night, I never should’ve left. It’s miserable sleeping without you, please let us never sleep in separate beds ever again.”
“Does that mean I never have to miss another race?” Alicent teases, kissing the line of Rhaenyra’s jaw.
“Please never do, never leave my side,” Rhaenyra mutters, peppering kisses all along Alicent’s cheeks and jaw and neck.
Alicent sighs, taking Rhaenyra into her arms and reveling in her nearness. She can still smell her cologne mixed in with the sweat and champagne and she always manages to smell like home. Alicent can’t wait to return to their apartment in London and have Rhaenyra all to herself for another couple of weeks. They’ve got a weekend off before Azerbaijan and Alicent plans on making the most of their free time.
“Okay, okay, you have to get out there,” Alicent laughs, reaching over for her handbag so she can pull out a hairbrush and put herself back together a bit. Rhaenyra just hums and kisses her while she brushes her hair. “Surely everyone will want a photo with you, we have plenty of time for more later.”
“God, I missed you so much,” Rhaenyra mutters against the skin of her neck. Alicent doesn’t mention that she’s technically been here the whole time because she knows exactly what Rhaenyra means. Even though they’ve hardly left each other’s side, Alicent feels truly awake for the first time in months. She doesn’t care about anything that happened before, just that they’re here now.
Rhaenyra finally stands and separates herself from Alicent—though not for long as she tugs the other woman up alongside her, giving Alicent a moment to fix her skirt before they get ready to go. The evening dissolves into a flurry of photos and celebrations and small talk with anyone and everyone while everyone dotes on Rhaenyra.
Alicent notices, as they’re on their way out, one of the mechanics Rhaenyra is friends with nudging her slightly and motioning over to Alicent. Rhaenyra shushes him, shooting a look over to Alicent before batting him away with a teasing grin and going to join her girlfriend so they can get the car back to their hotel room.
“What was that about?” Alicent can’t help but ask, ever curious.
“Oh, nothing,” Rhaenyra brushes her off with a wave of her hand as she opens the car door for Alicent and helping her in. “He was just asking when I’m finally gonna man up and propose to you.”
The car door slams with a resounding thud and Alicent feels her heart go with it. She pauses, turning to Rhaenyra, “I’m sorry, are you planning on proposing to me?”
“Well, the ring is back in London because I was going to wait for the championships but someone had to go and be obvious about it, so now my plans are spoiled,” Rhaenyra shrugs as she leans against the car door. She’s feigning nonchalance, but Alicent can tell how nervous she is. Slowly, Rhaenyra turns to look at her. “But if I did have a ring and maybe a cute little moment planned, what would you say?”
Alicent scoffs, leaning over and grabbing Rhaenyra in a kiss laced with fierce sweetness. She pulls away, pausing to place one more chaste kiss on her lips. “It’d be a yes. Always a yes.”
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