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THIRTY-SIX —— TELL THE WOLVES I'M HOME (III)
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116 AC, Storm's End.
There is something restless, something unnatural beneath her skin, in her heart. Something that twists her insides together in an iron fist and the closer they get to the castle she has spend her girlhood in— the harder it gets to breathe for Morrigan. The first sight of the drum in the distance is like taking a war hammer to her gut, chest cleaving in for a moment and she needs to force herself to breathe around the agony of seeing a relic of her past with her own eyes again.
Morrigan had not been back home in years. Not since she'd visited all that time ago with Rhaenyra.
They'd been supposed to attend Cassandra's wedding, but Mya had come early, had come before they could depart and Morrigan had been ordered by the Maester to remain to her bed in Riverrun for days with the labors and the aftermath and by the time he had been confident that she could travel the distance once more, it'd been too late, and they'd never made the journey at all.
It was supposed to be different. The first time her children came home. It was supposed to be something else.
But now it's to bury a man they had never known or could scarcely remember. To meet people, they'd been told stories of but had never seen for themselves.
The question of whether or not Deran remembers any of it— of their visit to Storm's End for her grandfather's funeral, for Rhaenyra's procession to find a suitor, of Alden's visit to King's Landing for the Princess's wedding— has ghosted in her head ever since they'd set off on this journey.
Morrigan supposes it is a testament to her cowardice that she does not have it in herself to ask her son whether any memories of these moments remained or had been written over entirely by time itself.
Not that any of it matters anymore, anyway. It's too late to change any of it.
Morrigan feels numb as an eerie kind of silence falls over them— somewhere between anxious anticipation and dread— the closer they get to Durran's Point until, at last, their journey comes to an end and Morrigan finds herself standing at the edge of a place she still knows blind, could paint any and every corner from memory even after over half a decade apart.
