#bisexualrepresentation

Everyone needed sunshine.

That was the problem.

James Kyle had somehow become everyone else's sunshine.

It started with Cass.

Which was probably his fault.

Cass would appear in his room at three in the morning after a nightmare.

James would wake up, make hot chocolate, and sit with her until she fell asleep again.

Then there was Helena.

Who regularly climbed through his window even though they lived in the same apartment.

Then Jason.

Who pretended he wasn't having a mental breakdown.

Then Alice.

Who was usually having a mental breakdown.

Then Damian.

Who absolutely refused to admit he liked James and yet somehow ended up spending half his free time around him.

Then Duke.

Especially Duke.

James didn't mean to become the person everyone went to.

It just happened.

Maybe because he listened.

Maybe because he cared.

Maybe because he understood what it felt like to be hurting and not know how to ask for help.

Whatever the reason, people kept showing up.

And James kept opening the door.

The problem with being sunshine was that eventually people forgot the sun could burn out too.

It wasn't anyone's fault.

Not really.

James just got tired.

School.

Patrols.

Family drama.

Medical appointments.

Nightmares.

Responsibilities.

The constant pressure of being okay.

The constant expectation that he would smile.

That he would fix things.

That he would make everyone else feel better.

By the time Duke found him, James was sitting on a rooftop staring at the Gotham skyline.

Not crying.

Not even close.

Just empty.

Exhausted.

Done.

Duke sat beside him.

Neither spoke for several minutes.

The city glittered below.

Cold and distant.

Eventually Duke nudged his shoulder.

"You okay?"

James laughed.

A short sound.

"No."

Duke nodded.

Like that answer made perfect sense.

Like he wasn't surprised.

Like he wasn't disappointed.

Somehow that made it worse.

"I don't know what's wrong with me."

Duke frowned.

"There isn't anything wrong with you."

James rolled his eyes.

"Sure."

"I'm serious."

"That's unfortunate."

Duke snorted.

James smiled despite himself.

The silence returned.

Comfortable.

Easy.

Then James finally admitted it.

The thing he'd been carrying for weeks.

Maybe months.

"I don't think I can keep doing this."

Duke turned toward him.

"What?"

"Being everyone's person."

The words escaped before he could stop them.

"Everyone needs something."

He stared out over Gotham.

"Cass."

A breath.

"Alice."

Another.

"Jason."

Another.

"Damian."

Another.

"Helena."

Another.

"Everyone."

Duke listened.

Quiet.

Patient.

James appreciated that.

"I love them."

The confession came softly.

"I really do."

Duke nodded.

"I know."

"But I'm tired."

The words cracked.

Just slightly.

Enough.

"I am so tired."

Duke's heart broke.

Because James said it like admitting defeat.

Like exhaustion was failure.

Like needing help was weakness.

"James."

The younger man looked over.

Duke smiled gently.

"You know the thing about sunshine?"

James groaned immediately.

"Oh no."

"No, hear me out."

"This is going to be awful."

"It is."

James sighed dramatically.

Duke continued anyway.

"Everyone needs sunshine."

James pointed.

"See?"

"I'm not done."

"Tragic."

Duke shoved his shoulder.

James laughed.

Small.

Real.

Good.

"Everyone needs sunshine," Duke repeated.

"But sunshine needs sunshine too."

James blinked.

The joke died.

Something softer replaced it.

Something vulnerable.

Something surprised.

"Oh."

Duke nodded.

"Yeah."

"Oh."

"Exactly."

For a moment James just stared.

Then laughed.

Actually laughed.

Because somehow Duke Thomas had taken one of the stupidest TikTok trends in existence and turned it into life advice.

"You rehearsed that."

"I absolutely did."

"Dork."

"Takes one to know one."

James shook his head.

The heaviness hadn't vanished.

The exhaustion was still there.

The grief.

The pressure.

The responsibility.

None of it magically disappeared.

But somehow it felt lighter.

Smaller.

Manageable.

Because Duke wasn't asking him to carry it alone.

"Hey, James?"

"Yeah?"

Duke looked almost nervous.

Which was unusual.

Duke Thomas wasn't nervous.

The universe would collapse first.

"You know you're my sunshine, right?"

James froze.

Immediately.

Completely.

Duke realized what he'd said.

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"Oh no."

James started laughing.

Hard.

Relentlessly.

Tears in his eyes.

Unable to stop.

"Did you just—"

"I hate everything."

"You absolutely did."

"I am leaving Gotham."

James laughed harder.

Duke covered his face.

"This is why I don't flirt."

"You were flirting?"

"I was trying."

"That makes it worse."

Duke groaned.

James continued laughing.

The sound echoed across the rooftop.

Bright.

Warm.

Alive.

When the laughter finally faded, Duke found James looking at him differently.

Softer.

Fonder.

Like maybe he'd been looking at Duke that way for a while.

"Hey Duke?"

"Please don't."

"You are kind of my sunshine too."

Duke froze.

Completely.

Utterly.

Catastrophically.

James grinned.

Payback.

Beautiful payback.

"Shut up."

"No."

"Shut up."

"Never."

For the first time in weeks, James felt warm.

Not because the world was better.

Not because the problems were gone.

Not because life was suddenly easy.

But because someone had noticed he was struggling.

Someone had stayed.

Someone had reminded him that even sunshine deserves sunlight sometimes.

And maybe that was enough.

Everyone thought dragons collected gold.

The historians wrote about treasure.

The singers wrote about crowns.

The maesters wrote about power.

All of them were wrong.

Rhaenyra Targaryen collected people.

"She's doing it again."

Naerys looked up from her book.

Across the hall, Rhaenyra was speaking with a nervous young lady-in-waiting who had arrived from Driftmark three days ago.

The poor girl looked completely overwhelmed.

Rhaenyra smiled.

The girl smiled back.

Daemon groaned.

"Oh no."

Harwin followed his gaze.

"What?"

"Watch."

"What am I watching?"

"Your princess finding a new stray."

Harwin opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Opened it again.

"...that is absolutely not what she's doing."

Across the hall, Rhaenyra draped an arm around the young woman's shoulders.

The girl immediately looked calmer.

"Gods damn it," Harwin muttered.

Naerys snorted into her wine.

"Another one?"

"Another one."

"How many are we at now?"

Daemon considered.

"Depends."

"Depends on what?"

"Whether we're counting dragons."

Harwin rubbed his face.

"We are not counting dragons."

"We should."

"No."

"We literally have Syrax living outside our window because Rhaenyra says she likes being close."

"That's her dragon."

"Exactly."

Naerys laughed.

Harwin pointed accusingly.

"You are encouraging him."

"I find this amusing."

"It is not amusing."

"It absolutely is."

Across the room, Rhaenyra spotted them.

She immediately abandoned her newest acquisition.

"Oh good. You're all here."

Daemon pointed.

"There she is."

"There who is?"

"The Dragon of Dragonstone."

Rhaenyra blinked.

"I fail to see the issue."

"You've adopted another person."

"I have not."

The young lady-in-waiting hurried over.

"Princess, thank you again."

Rhaenyra smiled warmly.

"Of course."

The girl practically beamed.

Then she left.

The four of them watched her go.

Silence.

Rhaenyra looked innocent.

Nobody believed it.

"That woman would die for you."

"She's very nice."

"Rhaenyra."

"She's very nice."

Daemon leaned back in his chair.

"You collect people."

"I do not."

"You absolutely do."

"I don't."

Harwin pointed toward the door.

"The kitchen staff."

"They're lovely."

"The Gold Cloaks."

"They work hard."

"The dragonkeepers."

"They take care of the dragons."

"The servants."

"They deserve appreciation."

"The maids."

"They deserve appreciation too."

"The stable boys."

"They work very hard."

Naerys was openly laughing now.

Rhaenyra looked offended.

"You all make me sound unreasonable."

"You once adopted an entire household because one maid cried."

"She was having a difficult day."

Daemon nearly choked on his wine.

"A difficult day."

"Yes."

"Rhaenyra."

"Yes?"

"She broke a plate."

"She was very upset about it."

Harwin dropped his head onto the table.

Naerys patted his shoulder.

"You knew what she was like."

"I thought it would stop."

"It gets worse every year."

"It really does."

Rhaenyra crossed her arms.

"I am sitting right here."

Daemon reached over and grabbed her hand.

Immediately.

Without thinking.

The movement was automatic.

Natural.

Rhaenyra's expression softened instantly.

Harwin noticed.

So did Naerys.

Neither commented.

Because they had all learned something years ago.

Rhaenyra collected people because she loved people.

Fiercely.

Completely.

Without hesitation.

Once someone became hers, she never stopped caring.

Not servants.

Not friends.

Not family.

Not lovers.

No distinction.

No conditions.

No limits.

The same heart that worried over kitchen maids worried over queens.

The same hands that comforted frightened children held dragon eggs.

The same woman who commanded armies remembered the favorite desserts of half the castle.

She loved with the same intensity dragons flew.

And once she loved you—

That was it.

You were hers.

Not owned.

Not possessed.

Protected.

Treasured.

Kept.

Harwin looked at the woman beside him.

At Daemon holding her hand.

At Naerys smiling softly.

At Rhaenyra pretending not to notice any of it.

And suddenly understood something.

The reason their family worked.

The reason people followed her.

The reason dragons trusted her.

The reason half the realm would willingly set itself on fire if she asked.

Rhaenyra Targaryen was a dragon.

Not because she rode one.

Not because she had dragon blood.

Because dragons gathered treasure.

And Rhaenyra's treasure had always been people.

"Oh."

Rhaenyra frowned.

"Oh what?"

Harwin smiled.

Nothing.

Just realizing something.

"What?"

"You are a dragon hoarding gold."

Rhaenyra looked confused.

Daemon immediately started laughing.

Naerys nearly spit out her wine.

Harwin pointed at the three of them.

"See?"

"See what?"

"Your treasure."

Rhaenyra stared.

Then looked at Daemon.

At Naerys.

At Harwin.

And for one rare moment, she had absolutely nothing to say.

Daemon squeezed her hand.

Naerys leaned against her shoulder.

Harwin wrapped an arm around her waist.

And Rhaenyra finally smiled.

Small.

Soft.

Home.

Perhaps Harwin was right.

Perhaps she was a dragon.

And perhaps she had found something far more valuable than gold.

After all—