Chapter Text
Rhaenyra hates her life.
She hates the cold conference room; she hates the coffee she is drinking and how it is only making her headache worse; she hates the three men sitting in front of her and how their gazes are filled with disappointment; but above all, she hates how she brought this on herself.
Just three days ago, Saturday night started just like any other weekend night in Rhaenyra's life. In a nightclub, wasting the hours away with booze and a dance with some hot girl or another. At some point, in the haze of sweaty bodies and loud music, Sunday's game slipped through her mind. An important game. A game where everyone was counting on their captain to be in her best form. And she had failed them.
Missing the game entirely, she woke up in her living room hours after the game had ended without any idea of how she even got home. Her phone was a mess of hundreds of texts, missed calls, and social media notifications. She had screwed up, for real this time, and now she had to face the consequences. She just didn't expect the consequences to be babysitting a bunch of six-year-olds.
“Targaryen, for the third time today, it is not babysitting .” Coach Harwin’s voice booms over her. “You will coach the students from the Foundation in their mini-tournament this month. And yes, you will attend every practice, not just the games.”
She rolls her eyes and runs her hands through her short blonde-silver hair. She had been beating herself up over this situation for the past three days, losing sleep, and feeling a pit in her stomach that refused to go away. Football was in her blood; there was nothing she loved more than playing and grinding her way to victory in every single game. She knew the Club would punish her somehow, but she expected some suspension or warming up the bench for a few games, not this.
Laenor, her best friend and PR manager, speaks before Coach Harwin can get more aggravated with her, his voice soft but serious. “Your reputation is in the gutter right now, darling. No one expected you to ever miss a game, especially like this. They were worried at first, but when the photos from the nightclub hit the press, they felt betrayed. Being seen helping the kids will do wonders for your image… ” He points to the Club’s crest painted on the wall, a red three-headed dragon, and continues. “... and for the Club’s”
Rhaenyra couldn't care less about her reputation right now. She saw the photos he talked about as soon as she woke up that day. She was completely hammered, falling on her knees on the sidewalk and crawling to a taxi. It was rock bottom.
Dragonstone FC is the heart of the city, and she is their queen – or was. The fans had supported her since her start as the youngest player ever in the pro league; they stood with her through wins and losses, through injuries and comebacks. They trusted her with their passion, and she let them down because she wanted to party. She is pathetic, and they have every right to be mad.
But they all know she’d do anything to help her Club, they are basically her family. She feels a tear sliding down her face and tries to wipe it off on her sleeve before they can see it – too late.
Viserys, her dad, club legend, and ever the peacemaker, wraps her hand in both of his. “I'm sure, in time, you will realize this will be more beneficial to your soul than to your image.” He speaks softly, understanding erasing the disappointment in his eyes.
Rhaenyra scoffs, and her dad smiles at her antics, dropping her hand after a gentle squeeze.
Of course she could see the PR of it all; the kids loved her, she always made sure to give autographs and take selfies for hours after games, always giving her jersey away to some lucky little fan. But she couldn’t see how trying to get a bunch of kids to kick a ball could help her soul or whatever. Although her dad's words have the strange — and annoying— habit of becoming true.
“It’s not like I’ve been given much of a choice, but I’ll do it.” Rhaenyra says with a resigned sigh. Her legs ache from overworking herself at the gym earlier as she gets up from her chair and drops her coffee cup in the trash can near the door. “Send me the schedule.” She murmurs to no one in particular as she leaves.
Rhaenyra walks aimlessly, her hoodie up, so no one looks twice at her face. She feels the pit in her stomach growing as she walks by the beach, heading in the general direction of her home. She knows it’s the guilt eating her up inside, and she can't stop herself from wanting to go out and party until she forgets the past few days – until she forgets her own damn name.
She knows it will only make everything worse; the paparazzi will be swarming any nightclub she is seen in, waiting to snap a photo of her in the worst state possible. Everyone will hate her even more, she will hate herself more than all of them. The rational part of her brain wins this battle. It's going to be just her and a bottle of wine alone in her penthouse.
A ball of fluffy golden fur hits her as soon as she opens her door. The dog is always happy to see her, but today it seems she senses Rhaenyra needs a little more cheering up.
“Hey, Syrax girl, calm down.” Rhaenyra giggles a bit when the small golden retriever tries to lick her face.
She had spent many weeks, maybe even months, putting the penthouse decor together; her only goal was to make it as cozy as the house she grew up in, and she absolutely achieved it. The floor-to-ceiling windows had been the reason she got this place, and she loved seeing the sunlight coming through the windows during sunny mornings and watching the city lights before going to sleep. The living room, probably her favorite space in the apartment, had hardwood bookshelves filled with a variety of championship trophies and History books from ancient times where, supposedly, dragons roamed the skies above her. Dozens of picture frames were hung in the walls, photos of her family, her friends and herself during important games.
She races the dog to the kitchen and gives her a treat while she looks for a bottle of wine, not bothering to get a glass.
Opening the wine, Rhaenyra stares at the big, flat screen of her TV. She knows she has to watch the game, she needs to see how she made her team lose it. And still, she can’t bring herself to press play on the remote.
Out of all the people she let down, her teammates were the ones who took the worst of the fall. She apologized to them earlier, but the air in the locker room was still heavy, her betrayal weighting the mood down. She can’t afford another mistake in the next game and can't live with herself if she fails them again. They will win the second semifinal game and advance to the final to win it all. There’s simply no other option for her.
With deep breaths and chugs of wine, she watches the game and sees all the moments where she could’ve made a difference. She knows her team can win without her; they’ve done it countless times when she was out because of an injury. But maybe… just maybe, if she was on that pitch, she could’ve rounded up the defenders on herself so Laena would be free to score. Rhaenyra is their tallest player, so, again, maybe she would've had the perfect chance for a header after one of Mysaria’s precise corners.
She cries, sobs wrecking her body. A part of her thinks she’s just being overdramatic, it was just one game, she just overslept. She should be allowed to fuck up sometimes, right? She had given so much to this sport, football has been her life since she remembers. Both her dad and her uncle played for the men’s team during their entire careers; she grew up watching practices and running around the pitch after every game. No one would give a second thought about this situation if it were her uncle. He’d just joke about it to the press, and all would be forgotten by the end of the week.
Syrax cuts her pity party short by finally managing to lick her face — and tears. "Okay, girl, let's play for a bit.” She reaches for the nearest toy and throws it across the living room. “At least someone in this place deserves to be happy.” She murmurs to herself.
The alarm pierces through Rhaenyra’s ears, and there’s nothing in the world she wants more than to stay in this bed, ignoring her life, but she needs to lock in for the semis.
She checks her schedule while eating breakfast. Gym session, team meeting, practice, and OH FUCK — the kids practice. She still can’t believe they’re making her do this. She curses under her breath.
Practice goes as well as Rhaenyra can hope. She puts in the work, going even for lost balls, and the tension seems to melt away as the team comes up with new set pieces. She has a good feeling they will be better than ever on Sunday.
“Hurry up, Nyra! No one likes when the babysitter is late!” She hears Leana yelling after her as she leaves the parking lot. There it is. Back to teasing each other again. She feels actually good for the first time today.
She turns around and gives her the finger before they both start laughing. Oh yes, they're so, so back.
The Foundation building is a massive construction from centuries ago. A couple years ago, it was completely restored to preserve the original features and renovated to get the best technology to accommodate the administration, one of the best schools in the country, and a modern sports complex to raise the next generation of athletes.
The football pitch is on the outside grounds, surrounded by well-maintained gardens. And right now it is pure and total chaos; about fifteen kids are running around, kicking balls in all directions, toppling over each other, and yelling without a care for who hears it. Rhaenyra would rather be anywhere else in the world; running laps all day long around the stadium would be better than this. Literally anything else. Although she has to admit they look adorable in a miniature version of her own uniform, complete with a cute version of the three-headed dragon crest and their names on their backs.
Her soft moment is over when a boy almost rams into her knees. There’s no way she can get them all under control to get a productive practice, but she tries anyway. She knows she has to start with one kid and the others will follow. Her gaze follows the wild boy, chubby face and chin-length hair almost as white as hers. She reads his name on his jersey.
“HIGHTOWER!! Pass the ball to me.” She forces herself to sound cheerful.
The boy halts in place and quickly kicks the ball in her direction. It’s a strong kick for a 6-year-old. She isn’t quite ready for it and, almost as a reflex, kicks the ball back to him a little bit too high.
“Try for a header!!” She encourages him before realizing her mistake: he’s too little for a header.
What was she thinking ?
Frozen in her spot, she sees it happening in slow motion. He jumps, and for a second it seems he got the timing right, but the ball hits him right in the face, making him fall to the ground.
As if this week couldn't get any worse.
She starts running in his direction, but before she can get two steps in, the Hightower boy is back on his feet, squealing. “THAT WAS SO COOL!! DO IT AGAIN!!”
What? No cries, no painful screams? She almost had a heart attack just seconds ago, thinking she had killed this kid. And now he is running even faster than before towards her, as if he had actually scored and wants to celebrate.
A chorus of “ME NEXT” and “PLEASE COACH” hits her as all the kids follow him. There is no way she will let any of these kids’ heads anywhere near a ball again, but she fears they will probably bite her ankles if she says no.
"Alright, little dragons, everyone sit down.” Rhaenyra takes the opportunity to finally gather the kids and try to talk to them. She can’t believe her eyes when they all plop down on the ground around her. They finally calmed down and were willing to listen. She has to think fast.
“Let’s make a deal!” She starts, not really knowing where she is going with this. The little group nod seriously, big eyes staring at her. By the Seven, they are adorable. “Headers take a lot of time and work. So we will need to get very good at a lot of skills until we can try the headers again without anyone getting hurt, okay?”
“YEAH, COACH” The Hightower boy is the first to scream his agreement, and soon they’re all jumping up and down, echoing his words.
Well, it’s going to be a long month. And she still has no idea if children can even do that. But she is willing to do anything to keep them calm.
In the next hour, Rhaenyra has them running a few simple drills to get an idea of their skill level, and she is surprised to find out they’re a good group. She tries to make it as fun as possible for them, and soon their laughter and her encouraging shouts fill the pitch.
When it’s time for the kids to go home, they all seem a little bit sad that practice is over, but wave excited goodbyes to her as they leave one by one, well, except for the Hightower boy. He sits by the bleachers wearing a backpack almost as big as him, dozing off and hugging a stuffed golden dragon.
Rhaenyra doesn't know what to do; his sleeping position doesn't seem comfortable, but he must be exhausted from all the running, and she doesn't want to wake him up. She decides to just keep an eye on him while she replies to a few emails.
Forty minutes later, and there’s still no sign of the Hightower mom. All the jokes about babysitting turned out to be true. Rhaenyra starts getting angry; how can this woman just forget her son like this? She understands being late, but this is too much. And he is so little to get left behind.
Twenty more minutes pass, and Rhaenyra decides she will give his mom a piece of her mind when she shows up. If that ever happens. Like what this woman could even be doing to be so late?
Rhaenyra startles when a soft and nervous voice starts talking a mile a minute from somewhere behind her. “I'm so sorry. I know I’m super late, but my boss kept giving me more tasks, and I couldn't say no because I really need this job. He is… well.. he was still mad when I left anyway, so tomorrow is gonna be hell. And on top of that, my dad — nevermind, you don’t care. Again, I’m so sorry. I hope Aegon behaved, he has too much energy some —
Hearing his name, Aegon wakes up and cuts his mom’s monologue short. “MOMMY!!! You’re not gonna believe it!! Coach Targaryen kicked a ball at my head!” He tells her as if he just won the lottery.
What…
The woman is in front of Rhaenyra before she can fully process what Aegon (is that what she just called him) said.
“WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY SON?” She is yelling, her face inches away from Rhaenyra.
…the fuck.
Big brown eyes stare into hers; auburn curls flow with the wind and brush both of their faces. Her hands reach for her hoodie’s collar. She’s the most beautiful woman Rhaenyra has ever seen. Her brain becomes a wasteland and can't form a single thought, and she’s pretty sure her mouth is just hanging open in the most ridiculous expression.
“I…I… it… the ball… ” She stutters, and she knows it doesn't make sense, but she just CAN’T . Rhaenyra never believed in gay panic. Since she can remember, she was always able to talk to any girl, anywhere; charisma and confidence dripped on her every word. Oh, but now she feels like a deer caught in headlights.
The woman shakes her a bit, as if she is a broken radio she is trying to fix by giving it a few taps. Suddenly, their faces get even closer, and Rhaenyra can’t breathe.
“WHAT?” Her anger sounds more like confusion now. Her eyes darting all over Rhaenyra’s face, looking for any sign she might answer – or that she was having a stroke, both are equally possible right now.
The taps seem to snap Rhaenyra out of it.
“I… I’ve begun badly.” She manages to croak out, and the woman hits her with a no-shit-sherlock look.
“Yes, the ball hit your son’s head when I was trying to help him score a header, and he fell.” The woman’s eyes wide, her hands tightening on her collar — out of all things she could be thinking, all her brain comes up with is that she could be a Renaissance painting — “NO, NOT LIKE THAT. He was okay! Got up really quickly, I swear!”
And at this moment, Aegon decides to get his mom's attention back so he can keep telling his story. “MOMMY! You’re not listening! It was so cool, everyone wanted to try for a header after me!”
Rhaenyra feels the woman’s hands leaving her hoodie as she realizes Aegon was watching them all along. It feels like she can finally breathe again. She fixes her hoodie and tries to stop her hands from shaking.
“That’s really cool! Are you okay, my sweet boy? Were you hurt?” She asks him in a soft voice as she kneels before him and checks his head.
“Yeah.” He replies, sounding confused about why on earth he would be hurt, and continues his retelling of the day. “And then Coach Targaryen said we can learn headers, and it’s so cool. But we have to practice our skills first, and that's also so cool, and she said it’s really important we work hard but have fun too.” He stops for a second, looking like he’s making sure he remembers everything. “Right, Coach?”
“Yeah, buddy! You got it all right! Can I talk to your mom for a second, please?” Her voice sounds a little more confident than she feels.
The woman gets up and walks slowly in her direction, mistrust still written in her eyes. Rhaenyra swallows the lump in her throat. Seven above, she was less nervous before the last penalty in the World Cup final than she is now.
“Ms. Hightower, I just wanted to apologize." She clears her throat. “Aegon is such a good kid, and I promise he had fun for the rest of the practice.” She says sheepish now, willing to do anything to make this woman forgive her.
The woman sighs, her shoulders dropping forward.
“He seems to be okay, and I haven’t seen him this excited about something in a good while, so huh… thanks for that.” She looks over at the boy, her eyes looking misty. Rhaenyra can only nod; she will be even more out of her depth if she starts crying for whatever reason. “Well, huh…Coach…? We have to go now, and, once again, I’m sorry for being late.”
“It’s Rhaenyra! You can call me…that.” She doesn't remember the last time she had to introduce herself; people always know who she is; her own name scares her when people yell it randomly when they see her somewhere. Oh fuck, she probably should’ve said only her last name, right? They’re not friends. She’s only her son’s coach, nothing else. Gods, she just made this even more weird. This day couldn't have gone worse, she curses Coach Harwin entire lineage for making her do this.
By the time she snaps out of it, Ms. Hightower is already walking away. Aegon is jumping up and down by her side. Rhaenyra waves goodbye, hoping she can get a last look at the woman, but neither of them look back.
Oh, she is so fucking screwed.