EIGHT —— WE COULD HAVE HAD IT ALL

105 AC, KING'S LANDING.

The first time Morrigan Baratheon meets Ser Edmyn Tully, the newly-instated second in command of the City Watch— although, everyone in the city knows he's the replacement for Prince Daemon Targaryen as leader of the City Watch while the king doesn't wish to welcome his brother in King's Landing— it's only a two days after Rhaenyra retrieves Dreamfyre's egg from Dragonstone.

She's on her way back to her private chambers after a lengthy morning walk with Ser Rodrik in an attempt to keep herself from secretly attending the meeting of the small council she'd heard the king had called this morning when they leave the gardens, rounding a corner, and encounter a group of three gold cloaks, including their new second-in-command.

It's easy to recognize Ser Edmyn amongst them— as easy as it'd been recognising Prince Daemon Targaryen that morning all these months ago— with the golden cloak of the City Watch and the characteristic red hair of the Tully family.

She smiles and curtseys. "Ser Edmyn," she greets him, noticing what she'd heard from the whisperings on court. He's young for his position— he can't be much older than her, Morrigan thinks and he cannot be the same age as Daemon— and he's handsome in a way Morrigan can recognise— yet a part of her bristles at the fact.

She's a girl who watches storms from afar— falling in love with the wild winds and the lightning.

Ser Edmyn Tully is handsome in a way Morrigan isn't entirely sure she prefers for herself. If she'd had a choice, anyway.

There's a beat of silence as he musters her, taking her in, before he bows in response. "Lady Morrigan."

Morrigan's head tilts, a flash of surprise in her eyes at the recognition.

The knight smiles at her, motioning at the embellishments of her dress. "I suppose the house colors of House Baratheon are not just by accident." He explains. "And there is only one beautiful Lady of the House Baratheon at the Red Keep."

Morrigan's eyes narrow just a little as she takes him in, before she smiles in response. "You're lucky then that you're not at Storm's End. The distinction is not so easily made there."

His smile widens a little. "That I am." He bows again. "If you will forgive me, my lady, I am afraid I have rather urgent matters to discuss with the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard."

"Of course, Ser Edmyn," Morrigan takes a step to the side. "It was an honor meeting you."

"The honor was all mine, my lady."

She watches him go for a moment, before a soft frown appears between her eyebrows and she turns back to Ser Rodrik— watching her already in that way of his that does not miss a thing and, again, it makes Morrigan think of that morning when Rhaenyra was proclaimed heir. For a long time, she'd thought that he'd noticed— he'd given her that all-knowing, disapproving look of his that she'd gotten so familiar with growing up, but he had never once spoken of her disappearance that morning and she thinks if he'd know where she'd been— and with whom— that would not be the case.

After all, her grandfather and father had been here and she supposes that day had been too busy to pay attention to wayward daughters with no place in the politics of men and lords and kings.

"I suppose now I understand why all the ladies at court have been talking and gossiping about the new second-in-command of the City Watch," Morrigan tells him as she resumes her way to her chambers. "He is handsome enough, to certain eyes. Not to mention, he holds a high position in the city at such a young age, and he is his brother's heir. Any of those would be enough to get those old bats talking."

Ser Rodrik musters her from the corner of his eyes. "And most importantly— that Tully boy is unwed."

Morrigan looks at him, their eyes meeting for a moment and there's something about his comment that doesn't quite sit right, but she cannot put her finger on it. She's quiet the entire walk back to the chambers she'd been given.

Any thoughts of odd feelings and gold cloaks vanish when she enters her chambers and finds Rhaenyra on her bed, a look of devastation on her face.

Morrigan stops in her tracks, dread twisting in her stomach at the sight of her friend's expression, her posture— shoulders curled in, head low.

The last time she saw her like this, news of her mother's passing had reached the princess.

"Rhaenyra?" She asks quietly, cautiously as she approaches.

When Rhaenyra looks up at her, her eyes are red, tears simmering in them. She sniffs a little before she speaks. "My father is to be wed by spring's end."

And later, Morrigan will look back and think some part of her knew in that moment— knew even long before— and it will be the only explanation for the lack of shock and betrayal at the news.

She frowns softly at the announcement, making her way over to sit at Rhaenyra's side and wraps her arms around her friend pulling her against her in a hug. "Well, I understand why this would upset you greatly," she says slowly. "But we knew he would have to, sooner rather than later."

Only yesterday, Rhaenyra had confined in her that she had encouraged her father to look for a new wife for the sake of the stability in the realm and their family— even if she had twisted a knife in her heart with it that she, like any other daughter who was a firstborn child, had been born with— a wound already bleeding.

Rhaenyra's throat bobs and for a long moment, she stares at the window before she looks back at Morrigan, grief and loss ear as day in her eyes. "It's Alicent."

———————

A week after the announcement of the King's betrothal to the Hand's daughter, the Lady Alicent Hightower, Alicent finds Morrigan in the godswood of the Red Keep, where the Baratheon girl had been lying in the grass, pretending to enjoy the sun while trying to wrangle her thoughts into order— first of them all the wedge that had been pushed between Rhaenyra and Alicent with the betrothal.

As far as Morrigan is aware, they have not spoken a single word to each other since, with Rhaenyra mostly spending time with her, holing up in their private chambers.

Morrigan hasn't said a thing because she doesn't know what to say— knows that saying one syllable out loud will mean making a choice, choosing a position, a side, an opinion... and she is not quite ready for it. So, like a lonely ship in the sea at Durran's Point, she is standing in a storm, silent. Knowing she will sink sooner, rather than later. Praying she will not drown.

And maybe she should have been surprised at Alicent's appearance, knowing she sudden influx of attention and things to do and people to talk to with the news, not to mention only a few days prior, Ser Rodrik had told Morrigan about how Ser Gwayne Hightower had begun the trip to King's Landing for the months until the wedding after the news had reached the Hightower's family seat in Oldtown.

But she knows Alicent— or she liked to think she does, now she is not quite certain about anything anymore— and she really is not.

In truth, she had expected this to happen much sooner.

"Morrigan," Alicent says softly, stopping a few feet away and the Baratheon girl sits up from her position on the ground. "May I speak with you for a moment?"

There's a look of desperation on Alicent's face and it breaks Morrigan's heart.

She knows the same is on Rhaenyra's face, too, nowadays.

She tries not to sigh, instead sending Alicent a smile before she rises and brushes off any dirt there may be on her dress. "Of course. We have not talked in a while."

"That is what I was hoping we could talk about," Alicent admits as Morrigan makes her way over to her. "I was hoping you might talk to Rhaenyra about this. I have tried and tried, but she won't listen to me."

Morrigan looks at her for a long moment, a carefully blank expression on her face before she looks away, watching the plants in the godswood for a moment. "Can you blame her? Truly?"

Alicent stares at her, shaking her head a little. "It doesn't need to be this way." She points out, voice wavering a little and Morrigan looked back at her.

"Did you know?" She asks. "That morning in the Sept, did you know he would marry you?"

She can recognise it in her eyes she knows what day Morrigan is talking about— that day only a handful of days ago they'd prayed with Rhaenyra and Alicent had advised her to seek out her father for conversation and closeness to him herself. The morning Morrigan had held her back and Alicent had told her nothing was amiss.

Morrigan had not wanted to believe her instincts— had been painfully aware she cannot always trust them to tell her what is best and wisest— but now, she cannot help but wonder if she should have.

Alicent's shoulders stiffen. "I didn't know for certain," she says slowly.

"But you suspected, then?" Morrigan replies, voice colder than before.

Alicent looks her in the eyes again. "My father is plotting and planning so many things for the sake of our family and the realm, I have learned to suspect nearly any possibility."

It's fair enough, Morrigan supposes— it is Otto Hightower they are talking about after all— but, by the Seven, she cannot shake her feelings— instincts she had ignored before and fast determined by guilt and heartache to not do so again anytime soon.

"You could have talked to her," Morrigan replies. "You should have talked to her about it."

Alicent's eyes flash for a moment. "And tell her— what? That my father is marrying me to her father? That I am to be her stepmother whether she likes to or not? That they'll make me choose between our friendship and my family?" She takes a step towards Morrigan. "What would you have chosen in my stead?"

Morrigan flinches a little.

"I wouldn't have let myself get into a position of having to choose between them at all." She replies, and something in her chest sinks, twisting.

What would you have chosen— family or friendship?

The thought makes her sick to her stomach.

Alicent shakes her head, scoffing softly. "Sometimes, you don't have a say in whether or not you get to put yourself in such a position. Maybe you'll understand this when you're betrothed." There's a moment of silence. "Although, I pray you will not."

Morrigan stares at her— at a friend who meant so much more to her than just friendship. She is the first true friend she's made since Eric Knighton left for his apprenticeship when twelve was twelve. The only friend she has had since him. Alicent had been her first friend here, in her life other than Eric— before Rhaenyra and Morrigan had ever exchanged more than a few words, Alicent had been her friend.

Maybe you'll understand this when you're betrothed.

Not some day— when she will be betrothed. Because that's where her story ends, isn't it? That's exactly where it would have always ended in this life. A betrothal, a marriage. A lord husband.

That is where her's and Alicent's and Rhaenyra's stories all end lest death take them first.

And they might not even have a single say in the matter.

Morrigan takes a step away from her. "Good day, Alicent," she says before she turns and leaves the godswood.

To her, the retreat feels like running away.

AUTHOR'S NOTE,
yeah we're gonna head into a few chapters set in the time jump from ep 2 to 3 now and,,,, i have so much of this fic planned out already (e.g. i know exactly what's gonna happen overall and have the key-points of next few chapters planned out) and am not ready i just want my girls to be happy

also!! introducing one of my minor(ish) ocs in this: ruairi o'connor as edmyn tully 🤭🤭