TWENTY-SEVEN -- FOR YOU, I WOULD CROSS THE LINE

109 AC, KING'S LANDING.

Morrigan is standing in a spot of sunshine, watching as Deran is chasing a butterfly through the small maze of hedges in gardens, Rodrik a few feet away, watching her in silence in return and she's trying to figure out when in her childhood had been the last time she'd ever chased a butterfly- can't even really remember any of it in the first place but she remembers watching her little sisters doing so and having a sort of warm, fond feeling at the sight as if eliciting an old memory buried deep within her chest she cannot access anymore.

She's given up trying to dig up the memory she may or may not have made once minutes ago, instead focusing on her son as he jumps a little, a grin on his face. She doesn't want to think about how long it might still be there. She doesn't want to think about the dark storm growing and growing in her heart for days now, the knowledge she's trying so hard to ignore like something about to break and wreak havoc.

And most of all- it's better than having the conversation she knows Rodrik is itching to have. The one she isn't ready for. And so- she watches her son chase a small group of butterflies for fun.

She'd come home so late in the night, she'd known it had long passed into the next day, only a few hours off dawn- still, she'd been back long before Edmyn- giving her only a handful of hours of sleep at best and today, Morrigan feels like she's been run over by a procession of carriages. She feels like she's drunken herself into oblivion the previous day. There's an incessant headache at her temple and at times, the world around her is just a little too bright and the nausea from the ship and from flying is back with a vengeance.

She's tried her best, but she knows she doesn't look her best- not by a long shot.

Which is why Rodrik keeps looking at her like that. The same way he'd been looking at her the entire journey to and from Storm's End on the ship and she knows that today, her time for evading him and keeping answers from her guard is over.

Morrigan lets out a soft breath, trying to ignore the feeling of dizziness creeping into the edges of her consciousness at the growing, underlying heat of the sun beating down on her. She'll have to sit down soon, but- she just wants to watch Deran a moment longer. And despite her best efforts she remembers him with her sister and imagines a different scene. Of Deran and another child playing together. Maybe a girl. Maybe one with red her, or the same black curls as her son, or maybe, one with the blonde locks of her mother's family. And she wonders if it will make anything better or worse as she imagines Deran being less lonely. Having someone in his corner. Not growing up alone but the way she did- with siblings all around her.

Except, of course, he would not have to mourn siblings the way she had to- buried in a grave before they could even leave their cradle.

If the gods decided to take pity on her for once, that is.

Or maybe, a small part of her says, burying them straight from cradle to grave is the gods taking pity on her.

She looks away from Deran, trying to ignore her own thoughts. Instead, she gives Rodrik a look. "I'm sitting down for a moment," she announces. "Please keep a watch on Deran while I do."

Rodrik presses his lips together for a moment, looking ready to argue before he bows his head a little, relenting and Morrigan decides to seize the victory before he gets the chance to change his mind and gives Deran a wave, forcing herself to smile at him, although the motion is almost unnecessary- he's far too preoccupied to notice her departure. He'll likely look up in a few minutes to realize she's left to sit down- at which point he'll ask Rodrik to take him to her.

But, until then, Morrigan is resumed to try and rest her fucking head in the shade for just a moment of silence as she make her way through the hedges towards one of the little balconies where she'd one frequently eaten cake and had tea with Rhaenyra and Alicennt.

She's not even out of the maze of hedges when she hears the echo of footsteps following her, closing the distance and Morrigan stops dead in her tracks, body tensing up on instinct at the approach of an unknown person- of a possible threat. At home, she would not have minded. But she is not at home anymore. She has not been in a long time. And so, her instincts grip her heart in an iron grip and she can feel her spine straightening, locking up, her blood rushing faster.

Her head turns just a little as the person approaching rounds the corner of the hedge she'd only just walked past herself and she can feel her body ready for a fight, her fingertips twitching with the itch to form a fist, to ready herself to an assault.

She pauses at the person coming to a stop in front of her. Blinks. Blinks again.

She feels a little like someone's just hit her over the head with a warhammer as she watches Daemon approach her, a soft frown on his face. "You look like shit."

Before she even knows what she's doing, a scowl appears on her face. "Thank you, Your Grace." Morrigan grits out, glaring at him as he closes the distance between them.

Daemon gives her a look she thinks reminds her entirely too much of the one Rodrik likes to give her at times as he reaches up to take her face into his hands and the only reason Morrigan lets herself relax a little into the touch is the knowledge that not only are they shielded from view in the hedges, tucked into the shadows, but that the gardens had been rather deserted today to begin with.

He turns her head a little to each side as if to examine her before he gives her a grin. "Long night?"

Morrigan glowers at him, twisting herself out of his grip. "I couldn't say. It was rather unremarkable."

Daemon lets out a quiet sound somewhere between a laugh and a snort. "Of course it was," he mutters as he closes the distance between them again and some of the mirth bleeds away from his face. He reaches out one hand for her, fingertips ghosting over her cheek and the slight crease between his eyebrows returns again. "I do think you should see a Maester, regardless."

Morrigan sighs, wondering how she somehow managed to run straight into the conversation she'd fled from having with Rodrik. "That isn't necessary."

Daemon doesn't look convinced in the least.

Her jaw clenches for a moment and she glances away, forcing her expression to smooth out again and searches her mind for another explanation that is close enough to the truth to throw him off and make him believe it. "I don't trust the Grand Maester." She turns her head back to look at Daemon. "I don't want to see him."

There's a heartbeat of silence as Daemon looks back at her, almost as if considering her words. "I'm the King's brother. I think I should have reach to find another Maester."

Morrigan wants to scream. "I don't need to see a Maester. I just- need to sleep off the sea."

Daemon looks at her like she just made no sense at all.

She tries not to scowl again. "I'll be fine." She hesitates for a moment, pressing her lips together as something inside her chest recoils at the two words lodged in her throat. She glances away from him, saying quieter, "I promise."

She can feel his eyes on her as he considers her words and, after a moment, she forces herself to look back at him, just in time to see something in his expression shift. Not a surrender but a draw, maybe. A stalemate. A for now at least.

"Why are you here?" Morrigan asks in an attempt to move past the topic.

She knows he knows what she's trying to do- and ignores the way her throat closes up, burning a little when he decides not to fight her on it. Instead Daemon reaches into one of his pockets for something as he begins to explain. "I'm obliged elsewhere tonight, but tomorrow- join me for a walk? At night?" He asks.

Morrigan frowns a little, looking away. "I'm not sure that's possible." She doesn't add that Edmyn doesn't have any duties tomorrow night. She's sure he already knows.

"Try, at least," Daemon replies as he pulls out whatever he'd been looking for and as he holds it up for her, Morrigan recognises it's a folded piece of parchment. "It's a map out of the Keep so you won't have trouble getting out through the halls. I've marked where I'll be waiting."

Something in Morrigan feels like this- right here- is the crossroads she'd been dancing around with him for years now. To go with him, willingly, to plan it all- or to stay away. To send him out of her sight. Or to take the parchment, knowing fully well all the single motion entails and agrees to.

But that's not quite true, is it? She'd already done it all- she was already on the way down the road. The crossroads had been last night, with Prince Daemon Targaryen in her room and she'd chosen which road to travel on when she had follows him outside.

Maybe it's far too late for her already.

Still- she thinks this very moment is where she makes her own ruin. She is digging her own grave now, knowing one day, she will lie in it.

She thinks of Deran and chasing butterflies with another child and wonders if that day will come sooner, rather than later.

She doesn't dare look away from his eyes as she reaches out and takes the parchment. "I'll be there." She says and it feels like a promise, like an oath- and a sentencing all at once.

For a moment, she can see a smile tugging at the corners of his lips before he leans forward, resting his forehead against the crown of her head. "I'll see you tomorrow night," he says softly and Morrigan swears she can feel the lightest of kisses pressed against her hair just before he draws back again.

He leaves without another word, without looking back.

As he does, Morrigan raises one hand, resting it flat against her abdomen. She can feel just the slightest of swellings beneath her touch, not visible to the eye yet but she knows that soon, it will be unmistakable.

Something in her chest closes up as she watches Daemon disappear through the hedges just as easily as he had appeared only minutes before. Something in her feels like she is coming alive again. Something in her feels like she is dying- digging her own grave.

AUTHOR'S NOTE,
i really made about 15 edits for tiktok and like 7 new memes for my hotd fics simply to avoid writing this chapter for a week straight and then wrote this in about two hours bcs now we're getting into the final stretch(ish) of the first book, huh? haha. fun times ahead.

anyways!!! finally welcoming my bby jeyne to this story (unofficially anyways bcs she's not gonna be here for a few chapter but i have been waiting for her for so long skdjsk)!! she might not be daemon's kid by blood but when i tell you this little menace is a really bad combination of daemon and mor at times-

EDIT: Since people continue asking, despite how many times I have answered this: No, this is NOT Daemon's child. They had slept together only a few hours ago. "Not be Daemon's kid by blood" means she is not Daemon's kid by blood. Thanks!