TWENTY-FOUR —— NOT MADE TO PLEASE PRINCES

109 AC, KING'S LANDING.

Morrigan stands at Edmyn's side, holding a goblet of wine that's gone untouched thus far and watching the King's family halfway to the food displayed at the edge of this garden. She'd always loved the gardens— here, and at home— and she'd initially feared being wed to Edmyn, leaving her old chambers near the gardens and Maegor's Holdfast would cut down her time at the gardens of the Red Keep, but Morrigan finds that Deran enjoys spending time in them just as much as she does and often, they take walks here together.

Even now, her son is running around with a few of the other children— although he mostly orients himself on the King's young son, trying to keep up with Aegon's slightly longer legs as they all run through the adults and the grass together.

It's one of the main things that tethers Morrigan to Alicent over Rhaenyra these days— the mere coincidence that their sons are nearly the same age, with Aegon only being a few handful months older than Deran. Every milestone they reach, they reach nearly together.

But, still, as she watches Deran running after Aegon with an expression of glee written all over his face, Morrigan knows that as long as they're boys, as long as they live, Aegon will always just be a little further than Deran. In growing up, in standing— Deran will always be second.

Morrigan lets out a soft breath, reaching up with her hand clutching her goblet and taking a small sip of the wine, forcing herself to look away from her son the same way she'd had to force herself to look away from the small cluster of Targaryens— by blood and by marriage— standing just a few feet away. Instead, she turns her attention back to the conversation at hand— between her husband and one of his men at the City Watch, Ser Harwin Strong.

The knight was one of Morrigan's most favored men under her husband. As the son of Lord Lyonel, the Master of Laws on the small council, Ser Harwin often visited the Red Keep since his arrival at the city and, over time, he'd taken up visiting Morrigan and Edmyn and dining with them.

He'd been one of the first acquaintances she'd met— and liked— in her marriage entirely through her husband.

"Derann seems to enjoy being back in the city," Harwin points out with a slight smile on his face as he watches her son for a moment before he turns back to them, glancing at Morrigan. "I do hope the lad enjoyed himself visiting your family."

Morrigan tilts her head a little in acknowledgement. "He did. He had a lot of fun— my sisters are rather fond of him, Floris especially."

"That's good to hear. Floris and Ellyn are only— what, four and five years older than him?"

"Five and six." Morrigan corrects him and Harwin nods.

"Those three must've been up to all kinds of evils, then."

Morrigan laughs softly. "The lot of them were rather fond of hiding from the knights and playing catch when they went looking for them."

Harwin laughs under his breath, sending another glance into the direction where her son had run with the other children. "Now, why am I not surprised by that?"

For a moment, Morrigan's eyes drift back to the group, finding it now having split apart— Rhaenyra having vanished and Alicent leaving the King and his brother to converse alone and for a moment, Morrigan could swear Prince Daemon's gaze shifted to meet her's— but that must be her imagination— and she quickly smoothes out the little frown her eyebrows had pulled into, turning her attention back to the conversation between Edmyn and Ser Harwin, which had now turned onto the topic of Deran's progress.

"—And his septa tells us he's very bright and diligent in his lessons— much more so than the young Prince, but by the Seven, don't let His Grace hear that—," Edmyn leans forward a little, giving Harwin a conspiratorial look. "But it's not much of a secret that the young Prince has more... entertaining interests during his lessons. It's an honor to have our son learn together with the Prince, of course, but I find that he often distracts Deran from the root of the entire thing—"

Morrigan's vision blurs, unfocuses. She's told him that, she thinks. Complained about it, in fact. She's happy that Aegon and Deran are spending so much time together, even if she's half-convinced that it's mostly just from the fact they're the only boys close to each other at the same age, but at the end of the day— Aegon is a prince.

He will always be able to afford things that Deran cannot in his behavior. People will always be more lenient with him than with a Knight's son— even if that son is set to inherit the Riverlands and Stormlands one day the way things are going currently— and while Aegon will always be able to afford not paying attention or making jokes or playing during his lessons— Deran will not.

She knows her son well enough to know that it's this, more than anything, that keeps him from forming a friendship with Aegon the way he so easily could with Floris and Ellyn.

But, Edmyn had maintained that it was an honor to have their son be taught by the royal tudors, alongside the King's son and they could hardly insult the royal family by sending Deran to learn with someone else— and Morrigan agrees, she does— but sometimes, she wonders if maybe they shouldn't have agreed to the honor in the first place. Shouldn't have just found another to teach Deran before the King could even have the idea to invite him to Aegon's lessons.

Not that it matters now— what's done is done and all that is left to do is move forward. Looking back would serve no one.

She's so caught up in her thoughts, she almost misses the footsteps— muffled by the grass— approaching until the two men fall silent and straighten.

Ser Harwin is the first to dip his head at the approaching figure and Morrigan blinks once, twice when she catches sight of who is approaching their group. Last she saw him, he'd been deep in conversation, laughing with his brother. "Prince Daemon."

She feels like she's choking on the title as she drops into a light curtsey, hears her own words, Edmyn's words, blurring together as if underwater, her blood roaring in her ears over all else.

Daemon gives Harwin a smile, motioning to them. "Do you mind if I take over, Ser— Harwin, is it not?"

"It is, Prince." Harwin says, dipping his head a little in acknowledgement— Morrigan barely notices. She's too busy watching Daemon from the corner of her eyes, noticing the way his small smile does not move an inch, sending a cold chill down her back. It's almost like the one she wears so often.

"And I do not." Harwin turns to them. "I'll find my father and see what the chances of convincing the Master of Laws to bring some of these pastries along without anyone noticing are."

Morrigan smiles at him. "It was nice to see you again, Ser Harwin."

Harwin returns her smile, eyes crinkling a little at the corner. "The same to you, Lady Morrigan." He nods at Edmyn and Daemon. "Lord Commander. Prince Daemon."

Morrigan watches him leave, the ghost of her polite smile feels carved onto her face, almost like a grimace. She wants to scream at him to stay until her voice gives out.

"I'd like to extend my condolences for your loss, Lady Morrigan."

Morrgian blinks, almost dazed, before she turns back to the conversation at hand and finds Daemon looking at her. The smile feels like the last lifeline she clings to— with her claws and all. "Thank you, my Prince."

She could swear there's the ghost of a smile dancing across his lips as Daemon folds his hands together at his hip. He turns his attention to Edmyn. "And I was rather curious, when I heard who was going to honor the welcoming of my return," his smile widens. "I am rather curious to at last meet my replacement, I must say."

Something cold and oily spills over in Morrigan's stomach, chilling her inside out and she stiffens at his words— and all she can think of is sneaking away with Daemon Targaryen years ago to go flying on dragonback. She thinks of making threats about spies. She thinks of secret smiles that should have never happened in the first place.

At her side, she can feel Edmyn's body tensing— can feel her own heartbeat racing to the fact. An unsteady rhythm that trips a little, unsure, before picking up speed. She can almost see the look on Edmyn's face— knows in her very bones which one will be there without even looking up. It's the same one as when two years ago, his brother had announced his wife was with child.

The child had died only hours after her birth— but she will never forget the way Edmyn's whole body tensed up.

She'd once thought her husband easygoing.

She's never made the mistake since.

Edmyn Tully was just as well-versed in hiding it as she was herself. She knows that— without knowing the signs, without looking for them— one would be likely to miss them entirely.

But Morrigan knows them and Morrigan knows when to look for them— and so, while Edmyn's expression will still be the same, welcoming smile, she can feel from ehr place next to her husband— so close their bodies are almost touching— how his entire body tenses up at the Prince's words. His replacement.

"My prince?" There's just the hint of an edge to Edmyn's voice.

Daemon is still smiling, looking at her for a moment. "Well— you have usurped my place with the gold cloaks, have you not, Ser— What was it? Edmure? Edmund?"

"Edmyn."

Morrigan wants to scream. She wants to draw herself into her body. She doesn't dare to take a sip of her wine to try and distract herself from the tension Edmyn radiates— and wonders if Daemon even knows it— and instead, she just stares at the Prince. Wondering what the fuck he is trying to do other than piss her husband off.

Daemon makes a motion with his fingers like he almost snaps them together. "Ah— right. Ser Edmyn Tully. The new Commander of the City Watch. My replacement. Have you found the gold cloaks subservient to your will?"

She knows it's not what this is about— Seven Hells, she doesn't even know what this is about really— but all she can hear is the end of it. And, like a dead thing come back to haunt her— It doesn't suit you.

Morrigan wonders just how severe the punishment would be if she threw her goblet with the wine right into Daemon's face and watched the red drip all over his pretty hair and his pretty face and his pretty clothes until it's all ruined. Maybe she'd even get to see a good blue splotch taking root— maybe she'd even cut him with the goblet— before the kingsguard hauled her away into the cells, never to be seen again.

"I could never replace you, Prince Daemon." Edmyn says and Morrigan can hear in the tone of his voice just how much it costs him to know that he will never be able to tell Daemon Targayen the truth he wants to— to go fuck himself. Edmyn had led the City Watch for years while Daemon was away at war. Even when they weren't loyal to anyone but Daemon. He'd earned their respect and he'd earned his place as Commander.

Edmyn had replaced Daemon wholly within the City Watch.

But, Edmyn could never challenge Daemon in rank and title and win. Certainly not in plain view of King Viserys.

Daemon's smile fades as he stares at Edmyn. "Good. Remember that."

From the corner of her eyes, Morrigan can see Edmyn's jaw tense as he stares back at the Prince, unmoving before she catches sight of a short figure with dark hair.

Catching her eyes, Deran comes to a stop, watching with rapt attention as Morrigan makes a subtle motion with her chin.

Deran turns to Aegon, and whatever he says to the prince is lost to Morrigan— both by distance and the fact that she cannot see her son's face— but she assumes it's some sort of goodbye because the next moment, Deran is making way for them, running through the little clusters of adults all over the gardens.

Daemon leans back a little, almost as though he has not a care in the world, as Deran's quick, light footsteps approach and he nearly runs into Morrigan's legs, coming to a stumbling stop next to her, clutching to her skirt for balance. "Yes, mama?"

Morrigan's expression softens a little— the way it always does when she is around her son— and she reaches out to brush one of the dark strands out of his eyes. "Your father's duties in the city will start soon. We should make our way home."

Deran nods, not even seeming to be bothered by Daemon's presence— too young to really understand the concept of titles and rank other than knowing to listen to when his parents told him to bow and say words.

One of her hands coming up to rest against her husband's upper arm, Morrigan turns to him. "Edmyn," she says softly, and for a moment, he doesn't move, but then— almost like defeat and declaration of war all at once— he lets out a low breath.

Steeling herself, Morrigan turns her attention back to Daemon, only to find him watching them— watching her already. She dips her chin at him. "Pardon us, my Prince, but we should make home now. My husband's duties as the Lord Commander start soon and the rest of us have had a rather taxing day behind us— most extraordinarily when a dragon near sank our ship right outside the harbor in Blackwater Bay."

She gives him a look she hopes makes it clear that she has not forgotten the fact that Caraxes nearly collided with the vessel not only she herself and Rodrik had been traveling on— but also Deran.

Morrigan's never been particularly forgiving when it came to her family and Deran is no exception.

She could swear there's a glint of delight in Daemon's eyes at the sight of her glare. "Of course. That does sound rather exciting."

"Congratulations on your victory in the Stepstones, my Prince." She knows she should tamp down the look she gives Daemon— knows it would be seen as an insult and insolence by anyone who caught sight of it— but, by the gods, he really makes her want to toss her wine in his face right about now.

A soft smirk tugs at the edges of Daemon's lips. "Thank you, Lady Morrigan."

One hand still on Edmyn's arm, Morrigan lays her other arm around Deran's shoulders, and gives her son a soft squeeze. "Let's go," she says to him, more than to anyone else, before she begins to lead her son away from Daemon and towards the exit of the gardens, taking her husband and son with her.

She feels the weight of eyes on her the entire way out.

AUTHOR'S NOTE,
surprisingly don't have much to say for this one 😅 except for sorry for the gif i tried my best but this was the first time i attempted such an "adding a person" edit before so i think it went ok! also u might notice that i'm stretching the timeline of ep. 4 ~a little~ (not much tho!) to give us a bit more plot/time before the wedding stuff 🤭🤭

random question but since that one stormbreaker vid i make is my 2nd most watched video on the app: did anyone come here from tiktok? if so let me know lmao! i'm v curious if that was the "cause" for anyone to give this fic a try!