TWENTY-TWO —— TELL THE WOLVES I'M HOME (II)

109 AC, BLACKWATER BAY

Morrigan has her eyes closed firmly, back of her hand pressed against her mouth and tries her best not to sway as the sound of footfalls approaching her reach her ears. At least they're too heavy to be Deran's— she's fairly sure the sight she makes at this moment would terrify her son to no end.

"Are you certain I should not get the Maester?" Rodrik's voice comes from her side, worry etched into his tone. "It would not be a bother."

Morrigan opens her eyes a little to glare at him, trying to ignore the nauseating sway of the ship. "Absolutely not."

Rodrik gives her a once-over. "You look like death warmed over, girl. Again."

"I don't need to talk to the Maester," Morrigan points out, hoping she does not need to heave over the railing she's leaning against for support merely from speaking. "It's pathetic for a Baratheon of Storm's End to get seasick like this."

Rodrik stares at her, unmoving.

Morrigan lets out a sigh through her teeth. "I already saw Maester Lyonel about it when we arrived at Storm's End a few days ago," she says. "I'll be fine. It's just godsdamned seasickness— I'm not dying, Rodrik. Leave it be."

Rodrik looks at her like the last thing he wants to do is leave it be, but before he can protest once more, Morrigan asks, "Where is Deran?"

Eyes narrowing, Rodrik stares at her for a moment before he relents. "Last I saw of the lad he was downstairs in the kitchens with a few of the crew, watching as they prepared tonight's stew."

Morrigan wishes he would stop talking of stew.

"It's likely a good thing the boy only got the idea now," Rodrik continues. "Or he'd likely not eat a thing on this ship anymore. Or he'd hang here, right next to his mother, looking just as out of it." He gives her a pointed look. Morrigan glares back up at him before a wave rocks the boat and her hands shoot out, gripping to the railing with a grip so tight, the blood leaves her fingers entirely.

Rodrik looks at her like this entire thing just proves his point and Morrigan bares her teeth a little at him.

"How are you feeling?" A third voice comes from behind them and Morrigan glances to her left to find Rhaenyra approaching slowly.

"Better," Morrigan replies, hoping it will finally hit them that she doesn't want to talk about how she is hanging over the railing, sick the entire way like some green boy who'd never been on water.

She pretends not to notice the look the Princess and her guard exchange at that, instead fixing her eyes on the ever-growing shape of the Red Keep in the distance like a lifeline.

"By the looks of it, we should make landfall inside the hour, my Lady," Rodrik says after a moment and Morrigan only nods in reply.

The sooner she gets off this ship, the better.

Rhaenyra lets out a sigh. "How do you think he will take it?" She asks after a long moment.

Morrigan hesitates, glancing at Rhaenyra for a moment. "The fact that you rejected every suitor that has shown up to make a bid for your hand in marriage, or that you added a second ship to the returning party that'd only been intended to consist of my ship and a handful of men returning from Storm's End two months before you're expected back in the city?"

Rhaenyra grimaces a little. "Neither. Both. I'm not certain."

Morrigan shrugs. "He will get over it. Eventually." They exchange a look. "I hope."

A small smile tugs at Rhaenyra's lips as she huffs, turning her attention back to the city they're approaching.

Still holding onto the railing, Morrigan turns to look at Rodrik. "Could you please let Deran know that we're soon reaching the city and that he please come and find me?" She asks with a sigh, half expecting another fight, but Rodrik only dips his head a little.

"I will, my—"

There's a soft roar in the distance and for a moment, Morrigan's body seizes up at the sound, sure she must've imagined it, but then, the crew around them comes to a sudden stop, Rodrik straightening, eyes going up to the clouds and something in Morrigan's stomach plummets. She knows that roar.

She knows that roar in her very bones— knows it like she knows the sound of Deran's voice.

"Take cover!"

Clutching to the railing like a lifeline, Morrigan's head tips up, eyes going skyward before she even knows what she's doing, before she even has the chance for a conscious try to stop herself and her breath catches in her throat, holding.

For a moment, the world seems to stand still and then— a shadow falls over the ship.

There's a flash of red, and then, the ship rocks violently, surprised screams sounding from all across the dreck and, somewhere, Morrigan can hear Ser Criston call for Rhaenyra, can hear Rodrik call for her— and all she can do is stare up— and watch.

She thinks it must be an apparition but— he's right there, making way straight for King's Landing.

She watches Caraxes, almost dazed with her eyes fixed on the dragon's form and her lips part a little as Rodrik's hand settles on her shoulder blade.

"Are you alright?" He says, voice almost panicked but she can barely hear it. Can barely register anything but the beast soaring through the sky.

"Morrigan." Rodrik's voice is a little sharper when she doesn't reply and then he twists at her side, cursing a little and then his presence fades away.

It feels almost like through a fog that she hears his voice again. "Are you alright, boy?"

And it's only then that she notices Deran's appearance on deck, running to her side, eyes huge, mouth agape in wonder as he climbs on one of the crates nearby to watch. "Dragon," he whispers, mesmerized as he reaches out to clutch at Morrigan's hand for support, eyes fixed on Caraxes.

The sight of him, staring at Caraxes with huge eyes, tethers her back to this very moment, to the ship again and Morrigan reaches out to place an arm around his small shoulders, steadying him.

Deran had seen a dragon before— knew Syrax, had even once or twice ridden a tiny distance on her back— but Caraxes was so much larger than Syrax, who, by all accounts, was still a young dragon.

Besides— she doesn't think she can blame him for the wonder never going away at the sight.

Her's certainly never did.

Watching Caraxes she feels like she did that day so long ago— another lifetime, really— in the Dragonpit.

When he roars again, it feels like it vibrates in her bones, in her soul.

There's an expression of worry in Rodrik's eyes as he draws his eyebrows together in a slight frown. "What is the Prince doing back here?" He says after a long moment— so long that the crew has fallen back into its usual rhythm, albeit shaken.

Morrigan swallows a little, watching as Caraxes— now only a small speck in the distance— makes a slow circle over King's Landing. "The matter of the Stepstones is done," She says softly. It's the only thing she can think of.

Rodrik gives her a look. "The matter of the Stepstones has been done for months now," he replies. "Besides, His Grace has made it clear the day he sent the Prince away from the city he was not welcome here. He has not yet rescinded this sentiment."

Morrigan knows— gods, she knows. She's well aware that Prince Daemon just put himself over the King's command— again.

"I don't know," she says softly. Then, again, as if to solidify the statement, "I don't know."

Rodrik lets out a long sigh under his breath before he glances to Rhaenyra, rooted to Morrigan's side. "I think, Princess, that you will find that His Grace has more urgent worries than the unannounced ending of your tour today." He says after a moment.

Rhaenyra turns to Rodrik, an almost dazed expression on her face. "It seems so," she says quietly, eyes finding Caraxes over the city again— beginning to make its way toward the Dragonpit.

Morrigan takes in a long breath, steading herself, grip around the railing tightening before she moves and wraps her arms entirely around Deran from her spot behind him. Almost immediately, her son leans into her and Morrigan finds this, more so than any desperate gripping at the railing, has soothed her upset stomach.

She takes in another breath, letting the wind of the sea graze her face, enjoying the way the cold sprays of water hit her cheek in tiny specks— soothing in a way it'd failed to be before— before turns her head, catching Rodrik's gaze. "I'm assuming that there will be a public audience in the Great Hall to receive the Prince's arrival." She runs her fingers through Deran's hair, tangled from the wind. "If you could look after Deran while we're there, I would appreciate it, Rodrik."

Deran's head tips back as far as he can, looking up to her. "But—" He pauses for a moment, looking suddenly uncertain. "I'd like to see the dragon again." He whispers it almost.

Morrigan's expression softens a little as she glances down at him, repeating the movement of her fingers. "Caraxes won't be in the throne room during the audience, my love. He's too big."

Deran's eyebrows draw together and for a moment she thinks it's because she want to dispute her explanation but then she notices the syllables his lips form and hears a faint Car-ax-ees from his lips.

"Caraxes." Morrigan says quietly, slowly pronouncing the word and Deran's lips move with her own, mimicking her. She nods. "Just like that."

She glances back up at Rodrik, finding him watching her already. "Please," she says again, hoping her eyes communicate the things she does not want to get into detail with in front of her son— yes, Deran is an heir, yes Deran's father is the Commander of the City Watch— one day, violence and politics will be inevitable for him. But she would like to do whatever she can for that day to be as far in the future as possible.

She's certainly not willed to have him watch any way the reunion between the two brothers could go wrong— and, knowing Daemon, it could go wrong in a plethora of ways.

She'd rather attend alone and have Rodrik watch over Deran and keep him company.

After a long moment, Rodrik dips his head. "It would be my honor."

Morrigan gives him a soft smile in thanks— and wonders just what the fuck Daemon Targaryen is thinking right now, showing up despite exiled from the city, despite the war he'd stared— and ended— all in spite of his brother. Despite the way he'd left things before his departure.

She does not think anything good can come from this.

AUTHOR'S NOTE,
omg!!! happy 1 month to this fic of being published/existing <3 somehow this impulse fic i did not think would be up longer than 3 days became my hyperfixation for four weeks and also somehow got almost 100k in that time?? wtf?? thank you all SO MUCH for supporting this fic 💗💜 it means so much to me 😭❤

also, since i mentioned i wasn't feeling well: my little sister's officially caught a cold (we both have negative covid test results so far) but since i'm feeling off too; it usually takes me 2-5 business days to funcion again when i really catch a cold 💀 so if i disappear that's why.