NINE —— ARE WE TOO YOUNG FOR THIS?

105 AC, KING'S LANDING.

Morrigan Baratheon is fairly certain that Ser Gwayne Hightower, the eldest son of the Hand of the King, intends to marry her— or at least propose the possibility of a betrothal to her grandfather as head of her House. Alicent's brother had always been taken with her— as his sister liked to tease her about— and despite only being back in King's Landing for just over a week, he had successfully managed to invite her to two walks along the gardens.

Morrigan isn't a fool. She's known from girlhood what a man looks like when he looks at her and sees something he wants to own; sees a bride to further his own standing in life. She's been a piece on the board of chess of the politics in this continent since the day she was born. The notion is nothing new to her.

It's that knowledge that tells her that the way Gwayne Hightower has looked at her the past year, is not that.

It's that knowledge that scares her more.

Being a chess piece, nothing more than a title and a body to bear children— she had spend her entire life preparing herself for that fate. Most days, she can lie and pretend she has come to peace with it.

She cannot handle another's genuine affection when she knows she cannot return it.

To be miserable for being nothing but a nameless, voiceless wife, or to be miserable because you are drowning in another's love— Morrigan doesn't know which is worse.

She thinks, with the first one, at least maybe there might be some sort of understanding one day.

With the latter— she isn't sure she was made for the kind of love men like Gwayne Hightower wish for.

She thinks at least the hate might keep her very soul alive. The love would numb and choke her one day.

They're just on the way back to her chambers from the second walk— Morrigan pondering the two splitting paths in front of her in silence— when a figure with red, curly hair and a golden cloak over his back rounds the corner, coming to a stop in front of them.

Gwayne's eyebrows raise at the sight of Ser Edmyn Tully, watching as the second-in-command of the City Watch bows in front of Morrigan.

"Lady Morrigan."

Morrigan gives him a small smile. "Good day, Ser Edmyn."

He straightens again. "That it is." He replies before turning to Gwayne. "Forgive me, but I overheard the Hand looking for his son to seek him out at once and so I thought I might accompany the Lady back to her chambers while you visit your father."

Gwayne looks at him for a long moment— and the Tully knight stares back as Morrigan watches in silence— before he nods. "Thank you," Gwayne says eventually before turning to Morrigan.

She isn't quite sure how to feel about it when he reaches out and takes her hand in his as he bows to her, pressing a warm, chaste kiss on the back of her hand. "Thank you for the honor of attending such a lovely walk, my lady."

She smiles. "The honor was all mine." Morrigan replies as Gwayne lowers their hands again, letting go of hers.

"I wish you a pleasant visit to your family," Gwayne adds as he straightens again.

"Thank you, Gwayne." Morrigan smiles— in earnest this time at the thought of seeing her sisters again.

"I shall see you when you return."

"I would very much like that," Morrigan replies, feeling a little foolish to do so— when she knows there are only so many things a Head of his House might have to talk about with an unwed, unpromised daughter about to turn eighteen in only a short months' time.

Gwayne nods at Ser Edmyn as he leaves. "Tully."

Edmyn gives him the same sort of politician's smile in return. "Hightower."

Morrigan watches Gwayne go for a moment, standing in silence with Ser Edmyn and wonders if she could ever stand to spend her life with a man like Gwayne Hightower— kind and patient and already half in love with her.

Ready to drown her in it until she sinks beneath the waves and is swallowed whole, never to be seen again.

Just like any ships sinking in the storms of Shipbreaker Bay.

Ser Edmyn points into the direction of her chambers. "Shall we, my lady?"

"Of course," she smiles quickly, resuming her walk back, Ser Edmyn at her side.

For a long while, the two make their way in silence, Morrigan pretending to watch the gardens when, really, she is painfully aware of Ser Edmyn's presence at her side— and all she can think is that Ser Rodrik will have a fit when he hears about this. He'd only agreed to let her go on today's walk because he'd known the Hightower boy and the lad knew what was coming for him if he'd disrespected his lady, as he'd so liked to point out when Gwayne had come to pick her up. It had probably helped that they'd been in plain sight of many servants and ladies the entire time.

Unlike Gwayne Hightower, Edmyn Tully was not someone familiar to Ser Rodrik Fell.

And Morrigan cannot help but remember another boy, in another garden.

"So, you're to visit Storm's End?" Ser Edmyn asks at her side and Morrigan turns her head a little to watch him as they walk.

"We're to depart tomorrow at sunrise," she replies.

The Tully knight nods slowly. "I imagine you must be excited. I know I miss my brother and sister dearly, and it has only been a few weeks since I left Riverrun— nothing close to how long you've been away from Storm's End."

Morrigan smiles a sad, soft ghost of a smile. "I do miss them terribly," she says quietly. "Last I saw my youngest sister, Floris, she'd only just learned to walk her first steps. According to the letters my eldest sister sends me, she's running now."

Her smile fades a little, an old, familiar aching pain in her chest at the thought. She'd only seen her sisters grow up so much— and only with Cassandra. But even her eldest sister had been just nine when Morrigan had left. Floris wouldn't remember her at all— she would be lucky if Ellyn did.

Her sisters were growing up, and she was missing it all to be here, in the Red Keep, away from the land she felt in her bones she belonged.

"Then I hope you will be able to make some new memories with them they can cherish when you see them soon." Edmyn replies.

Morrigan looks up at him again. "As do I."

———————

Rhaenyra is perched on Morrigan's bed, back resting against the wall as she watches the brunette fold her clothes in silence, before she lets out a sigh. "I wish I could come with you."

Mortigan glances up at her.

Rhaenyra shrugs. "I know I can't right now, I just wish I could."

"I know," Morrigan replies, eyebrows drawing together softly.

They sit in the silence again, Morrigan picking out her belongings for the trip and begining to sort them into their designated trunks. As she does, she thinks over the situation with Alicent and Rhaenyra. A sort of stalemate ha established itself between Rhaenyra, her father and Alicent. She isn't talking to either— despite the efforts from the other side— and Morrigan can see the misery in them all whenever she sees them.

She just doesn't know what in the Seven Hells she can do about it.

So, she does the only thing she can think of in that moment— she imagines what she would say if it were Cassandra and Ellyn— or any of her other sisters in conflict with each other.

She glances at Rhaenyra for a moment. "Maybe you could talk to her, you know."

Rhaenyra stills, her shoulders stiffening. "I would know what to say."

"I think saying anything is better than saying nothing."

Rhaenyra looks at her. "Saying nothing would be better than aything I would have to say."

"I would want you to talk to me, even if it's not nice, if it were me," Morrigan tries.

Rhaenyra gives her a sharp look. "You wouldn't have done what she did."

Morrigan lowers the dress she'd been folding back to her bed and looks at Rhaenyra, dark eyes heavy. "Of course I would have done it," she says and Rhaenyra jolts a little. "I know he is your father, Rhaenyra, but he is still the king— and you don't just deny the king when he asks for your hand in marrige. He's the most powerful man on this continent." She does her best not to grimace when Rhaenyra stares at the bedding, not meeting her eyes. "Besides— I'm the oldest sister of five. The better I marry, the less pressure will be on them and the more freedom they will have to choose."

She lets out a sigh, expression softening. "I'm not trying to be cruel, Rhaenyra. I'm really not. But I need you to understand where someone like me, or like Alicent is coming from, too." She feels helpless in telling the truth— but it would be a disservice to her friendship to both of them if she lies. "Of course, Alicent agreed. Of course, I would have agreed. It's not about slighting you but about her family."

Morrigan would always choose what was best for her sisters, no matter what, no matter the consequences— to others or herself.

Rhaenyra shakes her head— more to herself than Morrigan— before she looks up at her again with a helpless expression, tears in her eyes. "I'm just not ready for that." She whispers.

Morrigan crosses the distance to her friend, reaching out to wipe the tears away. "I know. And I'm not goint to force you to do anything, I promise," she mutters before reaching around Rhaenyra, pulling her into a hug.

And she wonders how long she will still be able to do this— how long they will still remain this close, before the world tears them apart just as it did Rhaenyra and Alicent.

AUTHOR'S NOTE,
this is a v short chapter (i'm so sorry you guys!!!) but i am very excited about the lil arc in storm's end starting in the next chapter <3 we'll get to meet some other ocs and mor's family!! and also some political plotting and developments as well as a v tiny daemon crumb 🤭

as always, please consider leaving a comment or two as interacting with you guys always makes my day and it's what keeps me motivated to write <3