Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

STATEN ISLAND, UNITED STATES, 2025

It felt as though Rhaenyra had traveled to the end of the world. It might as well have been. She took a train, the ferry, and a bus to get here. Way out on Staten Island. Dismissing her driver that morning, Rhaenyra decided that if she was going to be summoned like any ordinary individual, she might as well play the part. Now she stood in a colossal Romanesque hall, with vault ceilings and limestone floors. Clearly, a Catholic church repurposed–for whatever reason–into a government facility. Where rows of pews ought to have been, the space was completely empty except for a comparatively tiny desk and a plump middle-aged woman sitting behind it. 

Daylight poured in from stained-glass windows on all sides in patterns resembling a kaleidoscope. Projections of red, blue, and green tinted silver-blonde hair as Rhaenyra cleared her throat. She fiddled with the letter in her hands. The piece of paper that led her to this place, still sheathed in its torn envelope. 

“Name,” the woman said, without looking up from her computer. 

“Rhaenyra Targaryen.” 

The secretary glanced up upon hearing her name, one eyebrow arched in curiosity. Rhaenyra stood uncomfortably as the woman’s eyes scanned her body. “I’ll take your letter,” she said. 

Rhaenyra handed it over, and the secretary slipped it out of the envelope, tossing the excess paper to the side with indifference. Rhaenyra took note of the way her computer sat diagonal to the rectangular shape of the desk. This positioning of the device made it so that Rhaenyra could very clearly see what appeared to be an episode of a soap opera playing silently on the screen. Fascinating to see her tax dollars at work in real-time. 

The secretary unfolded the letter and clicked around with her mouse, pausing the show and opening a separate tab. A government database of some sort by the dated look of the user interface. She took several long, silent minutes swiveling her head from the piece of paper on the table to the screen, fingers filling information into boxes. At one point, she caught Rhaenyra staring at the computer screen and gave her the type of glare typically reserved for perverted men caught trying to get a look down a woman’s shirt. Rhaenyra tilted her head up to look at the painting on the ceiling after receiving the nasty look, squinting her eyes at High Renaissance style images of fat babies.  

“Did you bring a form of identification with you today, Ms. Targaryen?” 

Rhaenyra returned her attention to the woman, slipping a hand into her pocket and fumbling with her wallet, ultimately handing over her driver’s license. The secretary opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of glasses, slipping them onto her face as she scrutinized the ID. Then she repeated the same process of typing information into the computer before handing it back. 

“Okay,” she said with a sigh, rolling back in the office chair she sat upon, holding her hand out to Rhaenyra’s left. “Down the hall. There’s only one door. Easy enough to find. Go inside, and stay there until further instructed.” 

“Thank you.” 

Her voice came out hoarse, almost squeaky as she turned away from the woman and headed in the stated direction. Indeed, the immense space dissolved into a tiny brick hallway with a wooden door at the end of it. Undoing the latch and pushing it open, the last thing she expected to walk into was a boardroom, complete with fluorescent lighting, a long wooden table with office chairs surrounding it, and a projector screen at the front. There were other people there too, scattered about, seated in every other chair as if they might be allergic to one another. All of them turned their heads to look at her. That’s when she caught a pair of familiar brown eyes, red curls, plump lips turned up into the onset of a smile. Alicent Hightower. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Rhaenyra asked as she walked over and took the empty seat next to Alicent, her voice a bit too loud. But seeing a familiar face–that of her best friend, no less–when reporting to Transtemporal Duty, and especially after her less than pleasant welcome from the secretary out front, seemed like the most delightful coincidence of her life. 

“I could ask you the same question,” Alicent replied, her eyes darting around the table at the others. Her voice dropped to a whisper, “I don’t know if we’re allowed to talk to each other.”  

“I don’t think they would put all of us in a room together if we weren’t,” Rhaenyra whispered back mockingly as she swung her chair around to face Alicent. “Wow, what are the odds? We get to time travel together.” 

Alicent shook her head, the silvery sound of her laughter ringing out as Rhaenyra excitedly tugged at the sleeve of the woman’s sweater. She placed a calming hand on Rhaenyra’s arm, gently caressing the corduroy fabric of her button-up. “If they don’t kick us out for knowing each other,” she murmured. “I like this shirt,” she added offhandedly, reaching up and tugging at Rhaenyra’s collar with platonic affection. 

Rhaenyra scrunched her nose. “Well, they can send you home, but I won’t be going without putting up a bit of a fight.” 

Alicent chuckled as she held onto Rhaenyra’s wrist, leaning in close as her hands moved to the Targaryen’s watch. The scent of her hair, vaguely floral, filled Rhaenyra’s nose. Comforting, familiar. “This will be us soon,” Alicent said, looking back at Rhaenyra with a grin as she messed with the woman’s watch, using the dial on the side to move the hands on the face of the clock forward, then backward. 

“Right,” she said. “They’ll shrink us down and put us on the hands of a clock, and we’ll have to scramble not to fall off–”

Alicent pulled away from her, and Rhaenyra went quiet as the door opened again, and a number of soldiers filed inside, stopping in a line at the back of the room. Chronies. Rhaenyra could tell from the midnight blue ascots tucked under their collars, the little silver clock badges adorning their service jackets. The most mysterious characters of the military these days. Rarely would one find a Timeline Defender roaming around in public the way other soldiers did, and it was illegal for civilians to approach them, lest they risk interfering with the space-time continuum. Or whatever. Nobody really knew. 

The man standing in the middle of the line–the one with the most decorated uniform–stepped forward, his brows furrowed together with all the severity of a true soldier. “As you’re aware, all thirteen of you have been summoned here today for Transtemporal Duty,” he said. “Thank you for reporting. Not that you have much of a choice.” He laughed, bearing all of his teeth at them. An attempt at a smile. 

Rhaenyra glanced at Alicent, who was already looking at her out of the corner of her eye. Her lips twitched slightly, and she leaned back in her chair, covering her mouth with her hand to hide her smile. 

“If you’re feeling burdened by the weight of this duty, I encourage you to relax. Consider yourself lucky. Most people go their entire lives without receiving a letter from the Time Commission,” the military man continued, as if reciting from a script. “We understand that you may be coming into this with apprehension since the nature of our work is heavily classified. Rest assured, we will be here to support you to the best of our abilities. No harm will come to you in this process as long as you follow our instructions.”

He paused, looking at each of them for a few lingering seconds. When his eyes fell upon Rhaenyra, she thought she could identify a glimmer of recognition in them. She cast her gaze down to the table. Her family had friends in high places. Evidently, some of them must have known she was here. 

“Now, you may be asking yourself–what the hell am I doing here?” The man continued, his tone lighter than before. He flashed his teeth at them and let out a gargled laugh, each chuckle sounding as though it caught on his Adam’s apple before bursting forth from his mouth. Steeling himself again, he brought his hands together in a triangle, the tips of his fingers touching. 

Dear God, Rhaenyra thought. 

“Everything you experience from this point on cannot be shared with anyone outside of this room.” He paused for a long moment, looking at them all severely. “That said, we have a mission to carry out. Each one of you is a vital component to its success.”

The lights went off then, and the projector turned on, pulling their attention to the screen on the opposite side of the room. A white background. 

“There’s no way to explain this simply, but I’ll give it the old college try,” the man said, letting out another obnoxious chuckle. “All of you are about to travel into the past of a timeline parallel to our own.”

When Rhaenyra turned to look at the man again, he held a tablet and a pen in his hand. She watched as he moved the pen across the tablet in two long strokes. When she looked back at the screen, there were two horizontal lines drawn across the white background. “The parallel timeline has recently gone off the rails.” 

On the screen, half of the bottom line was quickly erased, replaced with a zig-zag pattern. To illustrate his point. Rhaenyra glanced around at the others sitting at the table, trying to gauge whether any of them thought this presentation to be a bit silly. She found herself alone in the feeling as she registered all of their expressions (even Alicent’s) as stony, concentrated. Overly serious. 

“The parallel timeline needs to be corrected to keep the timeline that we live in stable. The balance between the two is key. This is where you come in. Your mission is to live as yourself in this parallel timeline from age ten to the present day. Certain details of your life may be different, but the core themes stay the same.”

“Themes?” Rhaenyra whispered to Alicent, furrowing her eyebrows. Alicent shushed her. 

The man looked their way, disapproving. “Don’t worry about identifying them,” he said, directing his attention back to the tablet in his hands. “They’ll be given to you before you begin.” The screen went blank again. “The basic instruction here is to simply live your life out as you normally would in this timeline. Trust your instincts. Since you’re from here, and not from there, your choices will naturally align with the narrative of our timeline. That’s not to say that you will repeat your life over again. Even if you begin in identical circumstances, your decisions will likely lead you down a different path. This is perfectly fine. Try not to overthink it. As I said, balance is paramount here. Don’t strive for symmetry.”

Rhaenyra found this whole spiel to be almost entirely incomprehensible, and she was starting to entertain some skeptical thoughts about the whole enterprise of Transtemporal Duty. This experience sort of felt like walking into a pizza joint and ordering a slice only for the guy behind the register to look at her as if she’d sprouted another head. 

A large red circle with an X through the middle of it appeared on the screen. 

“I’m assuming we won’t have to worry about this group,” the man continued. “But it must be said that this is not playtime. This is not a personal experiment. You should treat your trip to the parallel timeline as if it is your life here. If you go into this thinking it’s an opportunity to fuck around in a way completely out of character to how you behave in your normal life, there are dire consequences. Not only for our timeline but for you as an individual. Of course, we can find ways to correct the timeline in these sorts of circumstances. But your life here will be ruined. We’ll make sure of that.”

Alicent’s hand wandered to Rhaenyra’s on the table upon hearing these words, gently squeezing it. As if warning the Targaryen not to do something stupid. 

With that, the projector shut off and the lights came up again. Rhaenyra blinked, her eyes adjusting to the fluorescence. The man set the tablet on the end of the table. “So, with all of this introductory information out of the way, the mission will take a total of thirteen days. Then, barring any hiccups, you will be free to move on with your lives. Any initial questions?” 

There were many:

-How are we supposed to travel to the parallel timeline?

-You’ll find out soon enough.

-Why were we chosen for this mission?

-Sorry, that’s classified information.

-How are we supposed to live our entire lives from age ten to now in thirteen days?

-Our technology is advanced enough that it allows a person to travel and live through many years over a period of a few hours in our base timeline.

Alicent raised her hand after another slew of questions from their fellow travelers. “Is it a conflict of interest that we know each other?” she asked, pointing first to herself and then at Rhaenyra. 

The man looked at them, tilting his head. “No,” he said. “It’s part of the mission.”

Alicent furrowed her eyebrows, glancing over at Rhaenyra, who was similarly puzzled. 

“Any further questions you have specific to your own part of the mission can be directed to your Timeline Defender once they’re assigned to you. That said, do we have any other general questions begging to be answered here?” 

After a long moment of silence, the military man nodded and took in a deep breath. “Alright,” he said, picking up his tablet again as he stepped to the side of the room. “When I call out your name, come stand with your back facing your assigned Defender.” 

Upon closer inspection, the Chronies standing at the back of the room looked like sorry excuses for soldiers to Rhaenyra. Many of them were quite old. Some of them looked too skinny, almost malnourished. Every single one of them looked tired. Sunken eyes. Rhaenyra was the last person to be called and hoped that it was purposeful on the man’s part. She clearly saw the young woman left at the end of the line who would accompany her for the next thirteen days. All she had to do was get up and go to her. He wouldn’t have to utter her name. But he called it out anyway. 

“Targaryen. You’ll be with Massey on the end there.”

Rhaenyra was already halfway out of her seat. It wasn’t necessary in the slightest. And she felt the weight of every set of eyes in the room on her as she walked up, turning her back to her Defender. The woman standing to her right did nothing to conceal her gawking, turning her head and looking her up and down. Just as the secretary out front did. 

“Alright,” the man said. “You’ll each be taken to an undisclosed location for the mission, and we’ll reconvene here in thirteen days.” 

With that, Rhaenyra felt the woman behind her move forward, and in less than a second, she saw black, felt fabric over her eyes and a pair of hands tying it into a tight knot at the back of her head. There were a number of verbal reactions from the thirteen travelers, mostly gasps. Clear as day, she heard Alicent’s nervous giggle. The way she laughed when she was uncertain. 

Rhaenyra’s immediate response to being blindfolded by a government worker was a simple, “Oh.” 

She wasn’t aware that the government was now deploying Guantanamo-type tactics on regular civilians. Which was concerning, albeit not completely surprising. 

“The blindfolds are just to ensure that you’re completely unaware of where we’re transporting you,” the military man said. “Sorry for not giving you a warning, but…it’s more fun for us this way.” 

*****

Not being able to see anything actually provided a bit of reprieve from the situation for Rhaenyra. In fact, she sort of enjoyed having an excuse to be clueless. Everything was simply black, and all she could hear was the rumble of the wheels on the road, the Chrony’s soft breathing in the seat next to her. 

“He said your name was Massey?” Rhaenyra asked, mostly out of boredom. She reckoned they’d been on the road for about ten minutes by this point. 

“You can call me Elinda,” she replied quietly. 

“Elinda,” Rhaenyra repeated, nodding. She supposed she must’ve looked ridiculous doing it. It would have been more comical if they’d also bound her by her wrists and ankles, but clearly she wasn’t the creative director of Transtemporal Duty transportation procedures. “What kind of car is this?” 

“That’s–” she paused for a moment. “That’s classified.” 

“Okay, I’ll guess.” 

Rhaenyra brushed her palms across the dry, bumpy plastic of the dashboard, reaffirming her belief that it was indeed the grossest feeling in the world. Her hands moved lower, finding the glove compartment and opening it. All she came across there was what felt like a small booklet, and she nearly gave herself a paper cut flipping through it. Probably an owner’s manual. Would’ve been useful if she wasn’t temporarily blind. She tossed it back inside and used her knee to slam the compartment shut again. Her hands moved to the center console, opening a compartment there and finding nothing inside. After some more fondling of the area, her palm settled on the leather handle of the gear shift. She thought for a moment of popping it into Park. Just to see what would happen. Far too intrusive a thought for the situation she currently found herself in. 

“That’s quite distracting,” Elinda said, all but asking her to stop.

Rhaenyra released the gear shift and sat back in her seat obediently. “Is it some sort of SUV?” she guessed. “I’m picturing an Escalade.” 

Elinda snorted. “It’s not an Escalade.” 

“Telling me what it’s not just gets me closer to guessing what it is,” Rhaenyra replied. “Which you’ve just told me is classified information.” 

Elinda didn’t respond. Rhaenyra thought about saying something else but decided against it. Elinda was on the job after all. Rhaenyra knew what it was like to have a pest bugging her at work. Her thoughts turned to her younger brother, Aegon, poking his head into her office to ask when they were going to restock the chips in the staff room. As if she would know. 

“I’ve read some things about you in the news recently,” Elinda said, breaking the silence. 

Rhaenyra sighed, leaning her head against the window. Each time her skull bumped against the glass, she felt more at peace. Closer to death than to this conversation. “Did you?” she asked, her tone going artificially perky.

“I’m sorry to hear your father’s unwell.” 

“Daemon’s my uncle,” Rhaenyra replied. “But thanks.” 

It wasn’t the first time someone mistook her uncle for her father. Daemon was the founder and CEO of the largest telecommunications company in the country. More than that, he was something of a guru in the broader tech community, constantly making headlines–usually for the wrong reasons. Her father was the CFO. Without any children of his own, Daemon had chosen Rhaenyra as his successor despite her resistance to taking on the role. You’re young blood, he’d told her when she asked why he wouldn’t choose her father (his brother) instead. No one wants to see a boring old man run the company. She hadn’t had the heart (or maybe the guts) to tell him that he was an old man and not nearly as interesting as he regarded himself. 

The Board of Directors only voted in her favor out of loyalty to Daemon and her father, and even then, it had been a tough sell. Though she performed well in her current position, she was rather notorious with the senior leadership for her unconventional disposition. In all honesty, Rhaenyra could sometimes come off as weird and off putting in a professional environment. Mostly because she was often afraid of saying the wrong thing. Though the choice had been between her and Aegon, and she figured they decided that she was older and easier to mold into a respectable spokesperson for the company. And she would let them. The news was released a week ago, around the time she’d gotten the letter summoning her to…whatever this Transtemporal Duty business was becoming. 

“I suppose it’s an honor to be trusted with your safety,” Elinda said, and Rhaenyra felt like she might vomit at the statement. “I bet your family’s combined net worth is more than the Kardashian’s.”

“My safety,” Rhaenyra repeated. “Your boss said no harm would come to any of us in all of this.”

She ignored the Kardashian comment, not wanting to make this girl feel stupid. But the comparison was foolish. The Targaryens ran a company valued at around 350 billion dollars. Kris Jenner had been vying to be in Rhaenyra’s mother’s book club since the 90s. This would be what her uncle would characterize as the inability of the American mind to fathom a “truly elite” class. Nevermind the fact that her grandparents brought him and her father to New York at ten and fifteen years old respectively, and Daemon never made an effort to return to the motherland in any permanent capacity.  

“Well, I could go rogue and hold you for ransom,” Elinda said, candidly. “It’s nice that they trust me not to do that, at least.” 

The Targaryen chuckled at the thought of this clearly timid woman taking her hostage. Little did she know, Rhaenyra thought that being held against her will may not be the worst of circumstances. It might even buy her some sympathy with the Board. Give her a few months to recover from such a traumatic experience before taking over the company. “Well, I find myself quite interested in all of this time travel stuff. So it’d be a bit disappointing not to be able to go through with it.” 

“It’s not as exciting as it seems.” 

“No?” Rhaenyra said, turning toward the sound of Elinda’s voice. “Is it mostly just reliving your life in parallel timelines, then?” 

“I can’t say,” Elinda responds.

“Classified?” 

“Yes.”

“Right,” Rhaenyra said. “Is there anything you can tell me about it that isn’t?” 

“Probably not,” Elinda said. “Not yet, at least.”

“Okay.” 

They rode on in silence for a long time. Rhaenyra started counting the seconds. She stopped when she got to thirty minutes. Then, after a while–she couldn’t be sure, but she felt it was at least an hour or two, if not longer–she could very clearly sense that they were moving in circles. Right, straight, right, straight, right, straight–more accurately, a square? Depending on the configuration of the roads. She couldn’t tell, but she didn’t say anything to Elinda about it. Rain started to patter on the roof of the car, and Rhaenyra tried to listen very closely. She thought perhaps the acoustic properties of the car pointed toward the vehicle being some sort of sedan. After a while of circling about, they went straight for a very long time before turning left. Then straight for a long time again. And then they stopped completely. It was still raining when Elinda guided Rhaenyra into stepping out of that car. 

*****

When Elinda finally removed the blindfold, it took Rhaenyra a moment to adjust to her new surroundings. She stood in the kitchen of a house. Her eyes scanned the room. It was night now. That much was clear as she examined the floor-to-ceiling windows in front of her, nothing but a dark black abyss staring back at her from beyond the porchlights. She checked her watch for the time, but it was wrong–stuck at 1:13–after Alicent’s meddling with it earlier. Turning away from Elinda, she took in the rough stone behind and above the stove, the dark circular pattern of the wood that made up the walls, the cabinets, and the exposed beams in the ceiling. She placed her hands on the countertop of the island in front of her. Also stone, but smooth under her palms. Polished. 

“Where are we?” she asked, and making note of Elinda’s reluctant expression, she knew the answer. “Nevermind. I’m sure you’re not allowed to tell me.”

Elinda nodded, giving Rhaenyra an uneasy smile, as if it was an apology. “The house is yours for the entirety of the mission,” she said. “It’s best to make yourself comfortable in it.” 

“The letter didn’t tell me to pack anything.” 

“We have all of your basic necessities here already,” Elinda responded. “Clothes, food. Things like that.” 

“I’m particular about clothes,” Rhaenyra replied.

“There’s no one here to impress, Ms. Targaryen.” 

Rhaenyra opened her mouth, taken aback by Elinda’s formality. “You can just call me Rhaenyra,” she said, a small frown pulling at the corners of her mouth. 

“Sorry. Rhaenyra.” 

“You’re taking my phone too, I assume?” Rhaenyra asked, sliding the device out of her pocket and holding it out to Elinda.

“That’s not necessary,” Elinda said. “We trust that you won’t contact anyone about anything regarding the mission since the punishment is quite severe.”

“And remind me what the punishment for such a trespass is again?” Rhaenyra asked, unsure. From the way the man in the boardroom spoke of these things, she somehow felt like she should know already. 

“It’s not something you want to find out about,” Elinda said. 

“Death?” Rhaenyra asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Similar,” Elinda replied. “But not always. It mostly depends on the circumstances. Punishments for accidental leaks of information are less severe.”

Rhaenyra didn’t feel reassured, despite Elinda’s attempt at giving her a warm half-smile. She seemed to suffer from the same affliction as Rhaenyra–being almost completely unable to offer sincere compassion when called upon to do so. “I suppose I should go over the rules now,” Elinda said, as if it just occurred to her that she had a job to do. 

“Okay.” 

“No leaving the property,” Elinda said. “You can go outside, but you’re not to travel further than a hundred feet from the house unless I am with you.” 

“Alright.” 

“I have to be where you are at all times,” Elinda said, momentarily casting her eyes away from Rhaenyra’s. “Though you’ll be afforded privacy if you need to change or use the bathroom.” 

Rhaenyra scratched the back of her head and sighed. She didn’t necessarily consider herself self-conscious in that way, but thirteen days with this strange uniformed woman following her around still put her slightly on edge. Elinda would have to unlearn her shyness quickly and hope that her personality suited Rhaenyra’s. Otherwise, it would be a long slog ahead of them. “Anything else?” she asked. 

“Not right now.” 

Rhaenyra turned away from her, off to take a quick look around the rest of the house. She figured she’d be here for nearly two weeks, so she might as well get to know the place. Predictably, Elinda followed two steps behind her. They went around the ground level, Rhaenyra examining the details of each room. The living room was quite dark compared to the kitchen, with wall-to-ceiling bookshelves instead of windows. The couch was a large sectional. Italian leather from the feel of it. An aficionado of quality goods, Rhaenyra briefly ran a hand over most of the furniture in the house by the time she was done. The brass body of a swing arm lamp in the hall. The solid wood of the knobs on the drawers of a dresser in the bedroom. The long fibered cotton of the duvets laid across the beds. This place would be quite nice for someone not used to a high quality of living. Rhaenyra still thought it was nice too. 

When she came to the foot of the stairs, Elinda stopped her. “We’ll get to that tomorrow,” she said, placing a hand on her shoulder and ushering her away. 

*****

Elinda got right into cooking after their brief tour of the house, and Rhaenyra watched her from the comfort of a seat at the kitchen table. It was comical, seeing this petite woman in a pristine service uniform (sans the jacket she’d taken off in preparation for the endeavor) run around the space, preparing beef tips and homemade mashed potatoes for two people. Though she held a certain affinity for quality regarding items such as furniture and clothes, Rhaenyra would’ve honestly been fine with instant ramen or mac and cheese from the box. 

While Elinda worked, she wondered how Alicent was faring in all of this. Not for the first time either. Her phone sat heavy in her pocket, untouched for fear of a punishment similar to death. Rhaenyra hadn’t asked Elinda if she could contact her. Surely, if their connection was part of the purpose of the mission, Elinda knew the details, and anyone could deduce that Rhaenyra would want to talk to her friend. 

As such, Rhaenyra was a bit fidgety, looking for the opportune time to bring it up. When Elinda finally set a plate in front of her, she ate quickly. And she felt awkward, sitting there with a clean plate, just watching Elinda shovel tiny forkfuls of mashed potatoes into her mouth. She cleared her throat after a moment. 

“Is babysitting people like me one of your primary responsibilities?” she asked. She didn’t know why that was the question that came to her first. Surely it wasn’t her primary responsibility as a literal Timeline Defender. The name of the occupation itself very clearly stated Elinda’s purpose. To defend the timeline. Whatever that meant. Besides, if watching people for days at a time was even a hefty part of her job, she would probably be more personable. 

Elinda shook her head. “No,” she said. “I only do this about twice a year.” 

Rhaenyra hummed to herself, nodding as she picked up her fork, turning it over in her hand and examining it. “I’ve heard that Chronies have to cut all ties with the people they know when they enlist. Is that true?” 

“Yes,” Elinda said, pushing her food around her plate. “To preserve the integrity of those who defend the timeline. Outside relationships can give a person more incentive to meddle.” 

“It must’ve been hard to do,” Rhaenyra said. 

Elinda shrugged, looking down at her plate. “People have only ever caused me problems in life,” she said. 

“Are you allowed to be friends with your co-workers at least?” Rhaenyra asked. 

Another shrug. “I suppose. Though it’s frowned upon to get too close,” she replied. “If higher ranks see deeper relationships developing, the parties are separated.” 

Rhaenyra couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming amount of pity for Elinda. No wonder most who enlist do so in their older age. Perhaps jaded by their previous life. She’d once read somewhere that the average age of a Time Service recruit was forty-five, whereas for soldiers of other military branches, it was twenty-two. Enlisting to become a Timeline Defender was perhaps an alternative to taking one’s own life upon further inspection. A life lived without anyone to share it with. Elinda would have no one to remember her after she passed except for a handful of people like Rhaenyra called in for Transtemporal Duty and a few of her co-workers. A lonely existence indeed, Rhaenyra thought. 

“I was wondering,” Rhaenyra began, drumming her fingers nervously on the table. “If I’m able to contact other people, would it be okay–”

“If you talked to your friend?” Elinda interrupted, seeming to have anticipated the question. “Alicent?” 

Rhaenyra nodded. “Yeah.” 

“You can,” Elinda said. “But once you start the mission, it’s best if you limit what you say about the other timeline to her. This is the world you’re coming back to, after all. In some ways, it can be beneficial to pretend that what you do during the mission isn’t real. As if it’s a dream.” 

Rhaenyra didn’t know what to make of Elinda’s words, but her fingers were itching to pull her phone out of her pocket to call Alicent. And that’s exactly what she did, tapping the video icon next to her contact. Within a few seconds, her best friend’s pretty face overtook her screen. 

“Rhaenyra,” Alicent said, her lips turning up into a smile, the dimple on her cheek making a shy appearance. “They’ve put me up in a house by the beach.” 

Alicent flipped her camera then, as if to show Rhaenyra the view out of her window. But all she could see was the dark and, vaguely, Alicent’s reflection in the glass–her head slightly tilted, grinning from ear to ear. 

“Gorgeous.” 

“Listen to the waves,” Alicent said, leaning down and placing her phone on the sill where the window was slightly cracked. It sounded like white noise–the waves crashing forward onto the beach somewhere in the near distance. 

“Well, my girl–Elinda–has put me up in the mountains,” Rhaenyra said, flipping her camera to show Alicent the woman she’d be staying with for the next thirteen days. “And she’s made quite the dinner to welcome me.” 

She caught Elinda mid-bite, and the woman quickly put her fork down, smoothing her shirt as she stared at the phone. Rhaenyra registered the discomfort in her demeanor and flipped the camera again. 

“Aw, that’s nice,” Alicent said, her camera now turned back to show her face. “Funny how this is a woman you’ve just met, and yet I can’t recall a time your boyfriend of fifteen years–give or take a few break ups–has done the same for you.” 

Rhaenyra ignored the comment. It was no secret that Alicent didn’t like Harwin. In fact, she always made digs at him (even when he was around to hear them) and was constantly encouraging Rhaenyra to break up with him over even the mildest offenses. 

“Did you eat yet?” Rhaenyra asked. 

“Talya over here ordered us pizza. Apparently she’s no cook. We’re getting on splendidly, by the way, and I’m not just saying that because she’s sitting in the corner pretending not to listen in.” 

“It would take something as drastic as being sent off to Transtemporal Duty for you to make a new friend,” Rhaenyra joked.

“I do have friends–”

“Crust doesn’t count.” 

“As I’ve said a million times before, Rhaenyra–just because you don’t love Criston doesn’t mean he doesn’t count.” 

It was gracious to say that Rhaenyra didn’t love Criston. Though she didn’t necessarily characterize what she felt for him as hate either. Even if she referred to him as Crust, sometimes to his face. Certainly, his devotion to being Alicent’s friend, even after a miserable attempt at courting her almost a decade earlier, was noble. According to the Hightower, she’d never felt so much dread than she did when faced with the prospect of having sex with him. She took one look at Criston’s naked form and was forever changed. To this very day, she would describe it as the exact moment she realized that she was a lesbian. Any man with an ounce of pride would shrivel away entirely from a woman who humiliated him in such a way. Instead, Criston inexplicably stuck around. He had the reputation of being a miserable cunt, even before that. Rhaenyra came to understand years ago that it was this misery that drew Alicent to him. It was something they had in common. Foils to each other. Though Alicent wore pessimism far better than Criston did. Rhaenyra always considered it attractive for a woman to be a bit hateful in certain ways. For a man, it was actually quite repulsive. 

“Staying in someone’s life because you’re afraid he might kill himself if you don’t–”

“I’m not afraid that he’d kill himself if I wasn’t his friend,” Alicent interjected sternly. “I just know that he probably would. And so what? If that’s how he feels when I suddenly don’t need him around anymore, that’s upsetting but…ultimately not my fault? He’s felt that way pretty much since the day he was born.” 

“When you suddenly don’t need him around anymore?” Rhaenyra repeated, a smirk playing on her lips. “Planning on dropping him soon?” 

“Rhaenyra, I’ll drop Criston when you drop Harwin, and I’m being dead serious.” 

Rhaenyra sighed, shaking her head. “You’re so funny sometimes,” she said. 

“The offer stands,” Alicent replied, her tone unamused. She set her phone up on the windowsill again then, pushing herself up onto her feet and shuffling backwards so that almost her entire body fit into the frame. “Did they give you the drab ensemble I’m wearing currently or do you get non-prisoner privileges because you’re a Targaryen?” 

Rhaenyra laughed. Alicent sported a fitted grey t-shirt and a baggy pair of grey sweatpants. “No privileges for me sadly,” she answered. “Though it looks good on you. You fill it out quite nicely, actually.” 

Alicent gasped, falling to her knees and crawling back toward her phone. “Rhaenyra, this shirt is a women’s cut,” she said, raising her eyebrows with a devious grin on her face. “Actually, you know what I think?”

Rhaenyra tilted her head, a blush creeping up to her cheeks. Alicent joked a bit too much with her about her aversion for women’s clothes. More than she was comfortable with sometimes, anyway. “What?” she asked. 

“While it may be too tight for your taste, I think it’ll objectively look quite good,” Alicent said, and Rhaenyra could tell that she really meant it sincerely, which she felt grateful for. “God, you’ll probably look like The Hulk with your arms, like, bursting out of it. Mr. Musclehead. You can send me a picture in confidence. I won’t show anyone else. Not even Talya.” 

“Right,” Rhaenyra said, dismissing the request with a roll of her eyes. “Okay, thanks Alicent. I should go. Elinda and I have some more bonding to do.” 

“Okay,” Alicent said, smiling at her as she moved closer to the camera. “Love you dearly, miss you already. I’ll be thinking about you all night. Make sure to send me that picture.” 

“Yeah, love you too–whatever,” Rhaenyra replied, though she couldn’t help the smile on her face as she hung up. 

*****

Alicent had been right, ultimately. The realization came to Rhaenyra as soon as her eyes met her own form in the bathroom mirror after pulling the t-shirt over her head. She did bear a sort of resemblance to The Hulk. Her shoulders were too broad, her arms too big for the shirt. The fabric just sort of stretched around her body, clinging to it. And the shirt wasn’t even long enough either, barely covering her navel. Luckily, she found it more comical than uncomfortable. So she did end up sending Alicent a picture. She held one arm up, flexing to exaggerate how ridiculous she looked as she snapped the photo, sending it off in their messages. Alicent responded immediately:

Alicent: You look like a twinkier version of Aemond 

Alicent: With peace and love, of course–he’s a handsome young man 

Elinda didn’t say anything about it when Rhaenyra finally came out into the living room and took a seat on the couch adjacent to where she sat in an armchair. The woman was actually wearing the exact same attire, though she looked quite normal in it. 

“So what do we do now?” Rhaenyra asked. 

Elinda shrugged. “Whatever you feel like doing,” she said. 

“Do you have to do whatever I do?” 

“No,” Elinda replied. “But I probably will.” 

Rhaenyra glanced at the coffee table where the television remote sat next to a stack of coasters. She leaned over and picked it up, tossing it to Elinda. “Put something you want to watch on,” she said, running her hands through her hair. 

Elinda opened a streaming app–one of the free ones that Rhaenyra could never pin down the name of (PooPoo or PeePee? Himbo or Doula? Fupa? Genuinely, she had no clue). Apparently the government couldn’t shell out any extra money for an HBO subscription. Elinda put on the first show that came up, which happened to be a trashy reality series, and proceeded to sit and watch Rhaenyra braid her hair for the duration of the episode. 

“Not to be weird, but…you’re quite androgynous,” Elinda said after a while, as Rhaenyra twisted a hair tie around the end of her braid, smoothing it over her shoulder. 

“You are being weird, Elinda,” Rhaenyra replied, her tone teasing as her eyes met the woman’s. “You shouldn’t take shame in it.” 

“I don’t mean to offend you or anything,” Elinda said quickly, her eyes darting around the room. And Rhaenyra understood immediately what she was trying to do here. Elinda was looking for any topic of conversation that might keep Rhaenyra talking. She understood already that the girl felt most at ease when being spoken to–that she felt uneasy in silence, even if the silence was subdued by the sound of middle-aged women snarking up to each other on the television. 

“I’m not offended,” Rhaenyra assured her, pulling her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs. “I used to look like a boy,” she added proudly, a grin on her face. “When I was very little. And for a time when I was in uni.” 

“You had short hair?” 

Rhaenyra nodded. “Short for a girl, sort of shaggy,” she replied, pressing her cheek to her knee, reminiscing. “Harwin–my current partner–and I broke up for several months after I realized I was bisexual. And I wanted to date women, so I cut my hair thinking that was the best way to draw them in.” She smirked at Elinda then, smugness lathering her expression. “I’m obligated to say that it worked quite well.” 

“But you grew it back.” 

Rhaenyra sucked in a long breath and shrugged. “My uncle hated it. He wouldn’t let me make a public appearance for the company until it grew back out to my shoulders. This despite the fact that my brothers have long hair that gets them mistaken for women more often than not. I eventually got back with Harwin, and I could tell he wasn’t very keen on it either even though he never told me. But–I do like it long as well.” 

“It’s nice hair,” Elinda responded, nodding, and Rhaenyra could tell she was being sincere. Not that anyone had ever told her otherwise. Targaryens were well-known for their trademark nearly-silver locks. Almost always, if someone commented on her looks, they would use the word ethereal to describe her. Her brothers and sister as well. “Sort of ethereal,” Elinda added, and Rhaenyra smiled at her.

“Thanks.” 

Elinda went quiet after that, averting her attention to the program on the television. As if not wanting to hog the airspace with her words, Rhaenyra watched too, though she eventually couldn’t hold back from commenting her opinions on the show. Elinda clearly found her to be very funny–which, Rhaenyra always prided herself on her humor, though she was quite sure this particular woman was easy to amuse. She figured that having virtually no meaningful contact with human beings would do that to a person. 

“What’s it like?” Elinda asked after a long period of silence between them during an ad break. “Having a best friend?” 

Rhaenyra was lying flat on her back, limbs spread easily across the couch, but the question caught her off guard. Sensing this, Elinda added, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen friends interact that way–when you called Alicent earlier.” 

Rhaenyra chuckled, running her hand over her stomach and shrugging. “Yeah,” she said. “We’re sort of different from a lot of best friends, I suppose. But I’ve known her longer than I’ve known anyone else, my parents aside. Her father’s in charge of everything PR related at the company, and he’s good friends with my dad. We grew up around each other.” 

“That makes sense.” 

Rhaenyra could tell that despite her words, it still didn’t compute with Elinda. And she felt sorry for her. For anyone who didn’t have their own Alicent. A person who would always love them, even at their worst. At their ugliest, at their most pathetic, at their lowest. “I suppose having a best friend like that is sort of like being in a relationship or being in love,” she said. “Sometimes she frustrates me to no end. Like, she’s always harping on me about ending things with Harwin. She understands me better than myself a lot of the time, and that can be really annoying. But she’s always there. Through thick and thin. Sickness and health and all that.” 

“She said you’ve been with Harwin for fifteen years,” Elinda commented. 

“Since we were fifteen, yeah.” 

“That’s a long time.” 

“Exactly,” Rhaenyra replied, sitting up. “You don’t toss a fifteen year long relationship away over simply not wanting to live with someone–”

“You don’t live with him?” Elinda interjected, clearly surprised. And Rhaenyra groaned. Very few people understood this notion. Not Harwin. Not Alicent. Not her siblings. Not her parents. Not Elinda now, apparently. Funnily enough, Daemon was virtually the only person who did. 

“No, we don’t live together,” Rhaenyra said, agitated. “And you’re wondering why, obviously. It’s because I’m an independent person. I need my own space. It’s honestly a really heteronormative idea that a person needs to live with their partner. We’re separate people. I’ve seen how Harwin lives, and I love him dearly, but I couldn’t stand to have his messes in my space.”

“I suppose…that makes sense too.” 

Again, Rhaenyra could tell that Elinda did not get it. This woman who gave up all of her relationships for a job couldn’t even understand why she might want to live separately from Harwin. “There are things that are mine and mine alone,” Rhaenyra continued. “Things that I don’t want to share with him. Boundaries.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like a bed,” Rhaenyra stated. “I want my bed to myself most days. I don’t like wrestling for space or for blankets.”

“Oh–he doesn’t even sleep over?” 

“When I’m in the mood for it, he does,” Rhaenyra said. “And there are other things too.” 

“Like?” 

“If I won’t tell him, I don’t think I’ll tell you, Elinda. No offense.” 

Elinda laughed at this. “What’s the harm in telling me? I’m nobody,” she replied. 

“You’re not nobody.” 

“I might as well be,” Elinda said. “To you, at least.” 

“Well, I just…need a lot of time to myself,” Rhaenyra replied. “That’s the gist of it. More than other people do.” 

“This sort of thing probably grates your nerves, then,” Elinda said. “That I’m supervising you for thirteen days straight?” 

“Not really,” Rhaenyra replied. “Because I know it will end.” 

“Everything ends eventually.” 

Rhaenyra snorted. “How deep.” 

“It’s true.” 

“There are some things I wouldn’t want anyone to know about me,” Rhaenyra said. “It’s not anything personal against Harwin. And telling someone like you–someone who claims to be nobody, is sort of a liability for a person like me. I could trust you with all of my secrets, and you could sell them to the press tomorrow.” 

“I couldn’t do that,” Elinda said. “Without you knowing, at least.” 

“Okay, so you’d have to wait thirteen days.” 

“I’d lose my job.” 

“And that’s very important to you?” Rhaenyra asked. 

“Quite.” 

“And why is that?” 

“I’d be giving up my entire life,” Elinda said. “And I’d have to start over again.” 

“Just from making a phone call,” Rhaenyra said, laughing at the sheer simplicity of it. “I dream of something so small uprooting my entire life sometimes.” 

“Well–if you told me,” Elinda started. “And I made the phone call…” she trailed off, rounding out the half-spoken sentence with a shrug. The implication of her words being that something as small as a phone call could potentially uproot Rhaenyra’s entire life. If only she allowed it. 

“I’d rather not.” 

“Then you’ve made your bed,” Elinda stated, raising her eyebrows pointedly. “And you’ll have to lie in it the way you like–alone, without anyone wrestling you for the blankets.” 

*****

“I’m not sure how I feel about Elinda,” Rhaenyra whispered into her phone as she sat on the bathroom floor, her back pressed into the tub. And she was exaggerating slightly. Because she wanted a reason to call Alicent again before she went to sleep. And a part of her was starting to feel deeply uncomfortable here. Perhaps not even with Elinda herself, though the woman didn’t do much to ease her mind about the whole thing. 

Alicent’s eyebrows pinched together in the middle, her mouth pulling down into a frown. “What do you mean?” she asked. “Is she being a freak?” 

Rhaenyra shushed her, turning the volume down on her phone. “I don’t know,” she said. “Yeah, I suppose. She’s sort of weird.” 

“Talya,” Alicent said, looking away from her phone. Presumably at Talya. “Is there some sort of system to report one of your kind acting inappropriately?” 

“We have a hotline for emergencies,” Talya piped up, off-camera. 

“Okay, type the number in here,” Alicent said, handing her phone over to the woman. Rhaenyra got an up close look at Talya’s forehead then, and a second later, a 1-800 number came up in the form of a message from Alicent. 

“I do have to say that I’m required to escalate any situation that’s brought to my attention regarding another–”

“No, it’s not like that,” Rhaenyra said. “Like, I’m safe. It’s just, our personalities don’t seem to agree.” 

Alicent took the phone back from Talya. “Don’t seem to agree how, Rhaenyra?” she asked, her nose scrunching slightly in a way that had always reminded Rhaenyra of an angry kitten. 

“Like, just sort of invasive, I suppose,” Rhaenyra whispered, sliding down so that her entire body came into contact with the floor. She liked the immaculate porcelain tiles underneath her. The powder blue color of them. How they felt against her body. Cold on her arms and even against her ribs, through the fabric of her shirt. Hard against the side of her skull. 

“Invasive,” Alicent repeated, her mouth falling open at the word. Rhaenyra thought perhaps she had inadvertently triggered her friend by describing Elinda this way. Rhaenyra was one of those cursed few that inspired adamant devotion in the hearts of others–occasionally to the point of insanity. She’d found herself in a handful of borderline stalker situations over the years. At times, it had bothered Alicent more than it bothered her. 

“Talya, she has to sleep in the same room as this person. Can you escalate this?” 

“Stop,” Rhaenyra whispered. “Stop, Alicent.” 

“Well, I’ll be damned if I let this woman molest you in your sleep.” 

“First of all,” Rhaenyra whispered. “No one said anything about molestation–”

“You said she’s invasive–”

“With her questions.” 

“Lock the bathroom door, please, Rhaenyra,” Alicent said. “Sleep in the tub.” 

“Okay–can we take a step back and not catastrophize? I’m not in any danger here.”

Alicent sighed, a lifetime of worry still very clearly written into her expression. She was always worrying over Rhaenyra. And with the amount of times Alicent had saved her from bad situations over the years, Rhaenyra couldn’t quite blame her for it. There had been countless nights in her late teens when it was Alicent who saved her from teetering over the edge. She had a habit back then of getting so drunk on nights out that she could barely walk straight. Always, Alicent came to her rescue. All it would take was a phone call, and she’d be dragging Rhaenyra home, pushing her onto her side, monitoring her breathing as she slept. 

“Stay on the phone with me tonight,” Rhaenyra offered. “You’ll sleep better.” 

Alicent frowned as she looked over at Talya. “Can I do that?” she asked.

“I don’t see why not.” 

“Okay,” Alicent said with a smile, looking back at her phone. “Sleepover,” she whispered, moving her face too close to the camera. Her eyes were so wide that Rhaenyra could identify every slight difference in the shades of brown that made up her irises. 

“Sleepover,” Rhaenyra repeated, pushing herself up from the floor. “I’m about to go out again–don’t say anything.”

When she opened the door, Elinda was standing in the hall, looking slightly bored. “Alicent needs me to stay on the line with her for the night,” she explained as she passed the woman, moving into the bedroom. Predictably, Elinda followed her. “Anxiety. Diagnosed. Medicated, but it doesn’t seem to help much. Bless her.” 

“Alright,” Elinda said, nodding as she pulled the duvet back from her bed, sliding under the covers. 

“We’ll try not to disturb you.” 

“It’s fine even if you do,” Elinda replied, turning away from her, pressing her head against the pillows. 

On her phone, Alicent pulled a face. And Rhaenyra wondered if perhaps she’d made a mistake. She wasn’t trying to assassinate Elinda’s character, but something about the woman and their conversation earlier did make her uneasy, even if she clearly wasn’t a threat. 

“What do you think it’ll be like to time travel?” Rhaenyra whispered to her phone once she settled into bed. Her phone sat flat on the pillow, positioned just in front of her face. If Alicent was looking at the screen, all she’d see was the ceiling fan spinning above Rhaenyra’s head. 

“Don’t know,” Alicent murmured. “Talya won’t tell me anything. Probably weird. Maybe a bit fun.” 

Rhaenyra laughed, pressing her cheek into the pillow. As if it was Alicent’s hair. As if she were actually sleeping over. The ebb and flow of her breath on the other line almost made it real. But she couldn’t touch her, couldn’t feel the warmth of her skin. Alicent was the softest person she knew–physically and otherwise. Like a human pillow. Whenever she slept over, Rhaenyra clung to her like a monkey. 

“At least I’m not there to kick you in my sleep,” Alicent said, and Rhaenyra’s gaze rose slightly, to the back of Elinda’s head in the bed opposite hers, just a few feet away. The woman’s shoulders were taut, and Rhaenyra couldn’t imagine that someone would be able to sleep looking so wound up. Elinda heard the comment, loud and clear, Rhaenyra knew. 

“Thank God,” Rhaenyra replied, a bit too enthusiastic in her delivery of the response to be believable. She heard Alicent snort on the other end of the line. It was still raining lightly–she could hear the patter of it on the roof above their heads. She heard rumbles of thunder coming up from somewhere in the distance. “We should get some rest.” 

“Big day tomorrow,” Alicent said.

“Yeah, big day.”