SIXTEEN —— POINT OF NO RETURN

106 AC, KING'S LANDING.

Alicent's fingers are woven together, restlessly twisting, picking at her cuticles, her gaze cast down as the women pick and pull at her— her hair, her clothes... Alicent Hightower— the Queen consort by the time the sun sets again tonight— is being formed into the epitome of beauty by them.

Or at least, Morrigan thinks as she stands in the open door, watching the scene, that's what they've set out to do today.

And Alicent does look stunning— her long off-white dress with dark red accents halfway done, her hair in curls and pinned up, with a breathtaking head-piece resembling a tiara with pearls... Alicent looks beautiful.

If only it were not for the look, hidden within her eyes like a treasured secret locked in a trunk, hidden beneath the bed.

The women tense up, stopping in their work, as they notice their arrival, eyes turning to them and as one, they bow their heads to Rhaenyra at her side. Alicent watches through the mirror in front of her, unmoving.

"Please leave us," Rhaenyra commands, still as the women exchange a quick look before curtseying silently and leaving the room. She waits until the door closes behind them before she turns back to Alicent.

A beat of silence stretches between them and Morrigan wonders if this was a horrible idea— if she should have just let it be, instead of coaxing Rhaenyra into joining her.

It's her father's wedding day, too— and Morrigan knows this is what makes it so much worse. For days now, there's been an air of excitement around the entire city, like a blanket has been tossed over them. At times, Morrigan feels like she might choke on it all, knowing that soon, she will stand where Alicent is standing now, feeling what she is feeling.

And maybe this is why she had been so determined in bringing Rhaenyra along. Morrigan knows that Alicent needs this moment of solidarity between them before they will all make their way to the Sept separately. She needs this, too. For no other's sake but her own.

Rhaenyra takes in a sharp breath as her eyes meet Alicent's before she looks away again, taking in the room.

Alicent's lips press together.

Morrigan takes in a shallow, fortifying breath, before she takes a step toward Alicent, smiling softly at her. "You look beautiful, Alicent," she says quietly as she slowly makes her way over to her friend— like approaching a scared animal.

Alicent's eyes flit over to the mirror, taking herself in for a moment. "Thank you, Morrigan," she says, her voice small.

"You really do," Morrigan says again, putting a little more force into her voice than before, forcing her smile to widen as she looks at her friend— it feels like a grimace— and when she reaches Alicent's side, she begins to inspect the boxes of jewelry that had been laid out on the table next to the mirror. Tilting her head a little, Morrigan reaches out, pulling out a few matching pairs and holding them up to eye-level, trying to pick one until she spots matching pearls on a golden string— matching Alicent's headpiece— and she holds them up to her ears.

She hands them to Alicent, "Put these on."

Alicent glances down at the jewelry and for a brief moment Morrigan wonders it they'd already picked out another pair before they arrived— considering it was the king's wedding day, everything down to the smallest detail had been planned much in advance and there'd likely been a clear plan for the bride's appearance— but Alicent reaches up and does as Morrigan told her without argument.

"Thank you," she says again and there's just the hint of a smile as she lowers her hands again— but this time, it's a sincere one and Morrigan thinks it might be the biggest victory she can dream to achieve today.

Morrigan returns the smile, if only for the sake of calming Alicent's nerves, before she turns to another table— filled with foods and drinks, although Morrigan imagines they've all gone untouched from Alicent.

She glances up at the two as she pours herself a goblet full of the spiced honey wine which she thinks might be from Lannisport— silently thanking whomever had the foresight to put the bottle here— and raises an eyebrow. "Shall I pour one for one of you?" She asks, knowing that with the nature of the day, nobody will much care if they choose to start celebrations early as long as neither princess nor bride show up drunk.

Both decline with a shake of their head and Morrigan shrugs before she raises the glass to her lips and takes a sip.

In her time in the city, Morrigan has found for one, that the wine in King's Landing is a note sweeter than the wine she knows from home, although she supposes it does not much make a difference, and second that, while Morrigan doesn't overly crave the taste of alcohol like some do, she also doesn't have a clear aversion to the taste. To her it just tastes... fine.

Looking between the two over the rim of the goblet for a moment, Morrigan lowers her wine and asks, eyes turning to Rhaenyra, "Will your uncle be present for the celebrations?"

The moment the words leave her mouth, she knows she has chosen the wrong ones to try and break the tension between them. Alicent's shoulders stiffen and Rhaneyra's lips press together into a flat line for a moment before she shakes her head. "Not that I am aware," is all the Princess says. It's the first thing she'd said since it's just been the three of them.

Morrigan isn't surprised by the news, not really, but she'd thought... she's not sure what she'd thought— that Daemon Targaryen had a habit of making unannounced appearances? That he liked the surprise, liked to keep the court holding it's breath? That, maybe like with the tournament a year ago, he might appear out of nowhere, standing in the sept without warning?

All stupid, foolish thoughts. Dangerous thoughts.

And why had she thought bringing up Daemon was a good idea anyways? Just because the gossips fell into excitement whenever the king's brother had been mentioned?

Of course, he would not come. Of course, he would not be a welcome topic in the king's family— or his inner circle.

Much as her grandfather had predicted weeks ago, the war at the Stepstones had drawn itself out into a stalemate between the Velaryon forces and those of the Triarchy. Neither side had managed to get the upper hand— even with Caraxes and Seasmoke, Laenor Velaryon's dragon, as Morrigan had since learned, at the site of the conflict.

She wonders what it says about the Triarchy and the Crabfeeder that they've managed to evade defeat for so long. Something ugly and foreboding twists in her stomach, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

Forcefully, Morrigan turns her thoughts back to the present day— to King's Landing and to Alicent in her wedding gown. Some Prince's adventures halfway across the sea aren't of any concern to her right now. Not today, of all days.

Instead, she thinks of how Edmyn Tully will be along soon to escort her to the Sept and takes another sip.

Alicent's attention turns back to the mirror in front of her, beginning to pull a little at it, the back not quite threaded up all the way, before Rhaenyra takes a slow step towards her. Almost immediately, Alicent goes still, watching as Rhaenyra closes the distance between them.

"Let me," the princess says quietly before she reaches up and behind to close the back of the dress.

"Thank you," Alicent says after a moment, still watching her in the mirror.

Rhaenyra's throat bobs. She nods.

Morrigan closes her eyes for a moment— that feeling of something slipping out of her grasp that she cannot place that had been haunting her for days upon days now, still in the back of her mind, claws sunk deep into her thoughts. She takes another sip from her goblet— a larger one this time, emptying the wine— before she sets it down and approaches her friends.

Something in the sight of them cracks a part in her chest open, pain oozing from the wound in a dull throb, and she swallows a little.

Alicent is standing in front of the mirror, in her wedding gown, about to face her sentencing like a woman about to face the executioner's sword and soon, it will be her turn. She will stand in Alicent's place, looking at her own mirror, in her own gown, about to go to her own sentencing.

Morrigan is silent as she joins them just as Rhaenyra finishes with Alicent's gown, hands hovering in the air for a moment. The princess's nostrils flare, blinking rapidly before she finally meets Alicent's gaze.

There's a long pause as the two look at each other, silent.

Rhaenyra's hands shake as she lowers them to her side again.

Morrigan closes her eyes for a moment and she tries to wrangle down the grief and agony and heart-clenching pain that threatens to strangle her. This should be a day for celebrations and joy.

She knows that neither of them will find it today.

When her eyes open again— red and burning with unshed tears— they meet Alicent's and there's something in her eyes when Morrigan looks at her and she cannot help but think of the shared looks of solidarity that had passed between them every now and then.

Morrigan's throat bobs as she looks at her, forcing the tears to stay put. I'm sorry. She chokes on the words— lodging in her throat, unwilled to make it past her tongue.

Alicent's lips press together as she reaches out and takes her hand. She squeezes it. As am I.

The three of them stand together in the silence until Edmyn arrives to escort Morrigan to the sept for the ceremony.

AUTHOR'S NOTE,
(let's ignore that they're sitting in the gif akdjsk 😭✋)

brought to you by my impulsive decision to dye my hair pink again and having to wait for the color to set is a new update (yay!) which is also the shortest chapter yet (yikes!) but i hope u enjoyed it anyway <3

guess whose turn it is to get hitched next.... haha ..... 🥲