❝I swear,
I'm only cryptic and Machiavellian
'cause I care❞
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Morgana watched the lone white ship rock back and forth in the distance on the Black Water Bay, the ship meant for her little sister. She couldn't even find it within her to be bitter, she had no gifts from her mother to compare the grandeur of it too. She pulled her eyes from the blatant display of her mothers preference in daughters to the foamy shores of the Bay below.
Morgana remembered the day she had attempted to teach Arya to swim, nearly drowning the both of them in the process. You're telling me you have nowhere to swim in the North? Morgana had exclaimed, mouth agape at her friends confession. We do too, you'll just freeze to death if you do, Arya had said making Morgana laugh as she pushed her towards the water. That was a happy memory. It seemed she had few of those and most included the choppy hard Northerner.
Her reverie was broken by the clinky and familiar sound armour shifting as one walked and she was met with the sight of her uncle, Jaime Lannister, leaning against the same stone barrier she herself found comfort in.
"Uncle." Morgana greeted in acknowledgement. They hadn't been particularly close as she was with Tyrion, something that also further pushed her away from her family, and she hadn't had the pleasure of speaking with him since he returned from capture with Brienne of Tarth, someone she would have rather been speaking to in that moment.
"Morgana." Jaime said, looking out into the bay to where she was looking. At the ship.
Jaime was well aware which of Cersei's children was his and it was obvious from the dark hair and doe eyes, that Morgana was not his daughter. However, in his time in the Riverlands cell, he had had time to think on the little Baratheon who seemed to wield a sword or string a bow with more precision than most of his own Kings Guard, something neither of his sons and definitely not his daughter were capable of.
"What errand did my mother send you on?" Morgana asked, her eyes still latched on the rushing water of the bay as it crashed against the high walls of the Red Keep. Perceptive, Jaime thought to himself but still winced at the thinly veiled accusation.
"Can I not spend time with my niece?"
Morgana did not a respond, a small laugh escaping her lips that sounded more like a scoff than anything of amusement. Against his better wishes, Jaime felt the blow to his pride. Like Cersei, it seemed Morgana had that sort of effect on people. Jaime sighed instead.
"I was sent to inform you of a betrothal between the crown and House Frey." Jaime said, his voice grave as he spoke but Morgana's expression did not shift as he spoke.
"And which of Frey's thousands of daughters is my poor brother marrying?" She asked, wondering what would become of Margery Tyrell once Tommen was married off.
"None of them."
Morgana's brow furrowed, her mind working at a million miles an hour with the new information. Then her heart dropped to the very soles of her feet. No, she thought, surely not. Her dark eyes finally looked to her uncle who was watching her with an expression she absolutely detested. Pity.
"Which one?" Morgana asked but when Jaime merely gave her a confused look, her jaw clenched and her necks words came in a hiss. "Which of his bastards am I being wed to?"
"None of them." Jaime said, watching as a fire flickered in her eyes. One he remembered well from his time as King Aerys' Kings Guard. A Targaryen madness.
"I'm getting sick of that answer, Ser Jaime." Morgana bit out, crossing her arms across her chest so as to hide the whiteness of her knuckles. Jaime sighed before speaking.
"You are to be wed to Lord Walder Frey himself."
Morgana thought her heart had fallen through the floor. She knew the time would come where her mother would finally rid herself of her and she had somehow dreaded it but to Wander Frey? Her own mother sending her to a man who was known to have no respect for his wives? When she didn't answer, Jaime broke the silence.
"I understand it is not ideal." He said, resting a hand on her shoulder as he had no idea how to comfort the girl. "But it is in the crowns best interest."
"No, it's in my mothers best interest." Morgana said, her voice burning with the rage of hundreds of stilted women. Her eyes met his and he had to stop himself from backing away at the look in her eyes. "Do you know, when you came over here I thought for sure my mother had sent you to toss me over this very edge into the Bay."
"Your mother loves you-"
"If you have any dignity left, Ser Jaime, you won't lie to me." Morgana said, her voice suddenly going frighteningly still as she knocked his hand from her shoulder. "She didn't even come to tell me herself. Someone who loved me wouldn't do this."
He watched her dark head of curls as she strode away from him, a determination dead set in her features that promised chaos for the whole of the Red Keep. Jaime wondered at her last words. Morgana Baratheon was a child but she was not clueless, she was fully aware of how isolated she was from her own family. Of her mothers hatred for her. He couldn't help the pity that set in as he remembered Tyrion's childhood. The reason for Cersei's hatred of Morgana was not purely physical such as her hatred for his brother, but perhaps it was not different.
In both cases, the only thing they shared was one last name.
As Morgana hurried back to the Red Keep, she stared up at the looming towers that had shadowed her entire life and she knew one day they would burn, if she had to light the match herself. But first, she had to find Varys.
The Lannisters were fools if they thought Morgana Baratheon was just going to sit and take it.
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"I though it would make me happy." Arya said as she attempted to meet the Hound's long strides as they walked. "But it doesn't, not really."
"Nothing makes you happy." Came his gruff reply and Arya immediately felt affronted.
"Lot's of things make me happy." She exclaimed and she could practically feel him roll his eyes at her outburst.
"Like what?"
"Killing Polliver, killing Rorge." Arya listed off, although somewhere in her head she could hear a single name cry out in the dark recesses of her mind. And Morgana.
"So you're sad because you didn't get to kill Joffrey yourself? Is that it?" The Hound stated, his dirtied armour clinking with every step he took.
"At least I could've been there to watch." Arya grumbled. "I wanted to see the look in his eyes when he knew it was all over, and of course to the shake the hand of whoever finally did him in."
"Aye, nothing in the world beats that look." The Hound said in agreement as he undid his flask to take a drink.
It was quiet for a moment, a question on the tip of Arya's tongue which she had wanted to ask from the moment she had been captured by the man.
"You protected him for most of his life." She said, staring straight ahead so as not to trip on the rocky valley they walked across. "Do you think you could've saved him?"
"I wasn't the damn wine taster." He said, taking a swig of his water as he did so. "Little shit deserved to die but poison? Poison is a woman's weapon. Men kill with steel."
"That's your stupid pride talking, it's why you'll never be a great killer." Arya stated firmly and the hound couldn't help but laugh mockingly at her words.
"And whoever killed Joffrey is?"
"Whoever killed Joffrey has my eternal admiration." Arya said immediately, watching as Clegane fiddled with the armour that pressed down on his wound.
"Something well sought after, I'm sure." He muttered, groaning lightly at the pain. She couldn't help but roll her eyes.
"You should've let me burn it." Arya said, returning her gaze forward as they passed though what looked to be a Farmers Market of some sort.
"It's fleabite." The Hound protested when all of a sudden the bloody gate, the first gate leading up to the Eyrie, came into view.
"That fleabite has you walking a lot slower than you used to." Arya mocked him in return, the gate looming above them as they inched closer.
"Well." Clegane sad, something like relief bleeding into his voice as he spoke. "We won't need to be walking for much longer."
The moon gate was loosely guarded, knights stationed every few paces and yet they made no move to even check the bedraggled pair as they passed by. Arya couldn't help but think how easy it would be to simply slip in and murder her own aunt should she wish to.
"Do you really think my Aunt will pay for me?" Arya asked, glancing away as she met one of the knights, she had just been criticising, eyes.
"Aye." The Hound replied, paying the guards no mind. "She'll pay."
"I've never even met her."
"Doesn't matter." The Hound said sounding board of all the talk. "You're her blood. Family honour, all that horseshit. It's all you Lords and Ladies ever talk about."
Out of the corner of her eye, Arya spotted more guards high upon the rocky crevices of the valley. All pointing arrows down at the passers by. Where she should've perhaps bene afraid, she felt a subtle pang in her heart. The bow and arrow was Morgana's weapon of choice.
"I'm not a lady." Arya said, tearing her eyes from the weapon.
"Who would pass the bloody gate?" A guard demanded from in front of the appropriately named, gothic structure.
"The bloody Hound, Sandor Clegane. And his..." Her captor announced before looking down at Arya with a calculating look. "Travelling companion, Arya Stark. Niece of your Lady Arryn"
Apparently Kidnapee was not the word to use in this situation, Arya thought to herself.
There was a brief silence and the Guard lowered his neck in bow before speaking once more.
"Then I offer my condolences." He said, glancing to Arya whose heart had dropped. "Lady Arryn died. Three days ago."
Of course, Arya thought to herself, of fucking course. This was how her story seemed to continuously unravel, tragedy after tragedy. Blood and death left in her wake where she went. She wanted to scream, she wanted to cry, she wanted to kill something.
But instead, she laughed. A full belly laugh that could only be described as a cackle. You laugh like a forrest witch, Morgana would say as the two would fall to the floor from whatever had amused them. Morgana had found it endearing, but it seemed her captor and the Bloody Gate guards did not.
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Merely a day later, Morgana found herself not sitting on the raised dais with the Royal Family and it was clear she was not missed. She had hidden herself in a shadowy corner, as she so often did, near where Oberyn and his paramour seemed to be saying quite passionate goodbyes. Her eyes found Tyrion as he was escorted to his champion, a look of doubt creeping in on his face. Morgana felt that very same doubt begin bleed through her as she watched the relaxed look on Oberyn's face. Perhaps this had been a mistake.
But it was too late now.
"Looks like very light armour." Tyrion said, his uneasiness clear in his voice.
"I like to move around." Oberyn said, finally breaking from his lover and procuring his famous spear.
"You could at leats wear a helmet." Tyrion grumbled but the Red Viper merely laughed as he knocked back his drink much to her uncles distaste. Morgana had to bite back an incredulous look, Tyrion shouldn't be one to comment on peoples drinking habits. "You shouldn't drink before a fight.
"You learned this during your years in the fighting pits?" Oberyn said, raising an eyebrow at the neurotic Dwarf. Morgana couldn't help but roll her eyes at that, men and their egos. It would be the death of them. "I always drink before a fight."
"It could get you killed." Tyrion hissed, a look of fear on his face Morgana and never seen before. "It could get me killed."
Oberyn's face went serious as he set down his goblet, looking to his paramour as he spoke.
"Today is not the day I die."
"You sound like my niece." Tyrion muttered and Oberyn couldn't help the amused smile that crossed his face.
"Thank you." The prince of Dorne said and Morgana smirked at that, though her expression fell when she saw the hulking form of the Mountain enter the ring. Oberyn was a good fighter, he had a chance but the sheer size of the man was something even Morgana feared. And she didn't have much to lose now.
Ellaria seemed to be thinking along the same lines as she was.
"You're going to fight that?" She exclaimed, fear flashing in her eyes as she took in her lovers opponent.
"I'm going to kill that." Oberyn corrected but it did not seem to quell Ellaria's anxieties. Nor Morgana and Tyrion's.
"He's the biggest man I have ever seen!"
"Size does not matter when you are flat on your back." Oberyn counted, a small smirk on his face at the innuendo.
"Thank the Gods." Tyrion muttered dryly, unable to look away from his sister's champion and her pleased expression.
A horn sounded, silencing the crowd who had been previously cheering at the entrance of the crown's champion and an older Maestor, one Morgana had never bothered to learn the name of, took centre stage and began to speak.
"In the sight of Gods and men, we gather to ascertain the guilt or innocence of this..." He spoke, gaze flickering to Tyrion to his left, before speaking uncertainly. "...Man, Tyrion Lannister. May the mother grant you mercy. May the father give them such justice as they deserve. And may the warrior guide the hand of our champion-"
Morgana watched as Tywin, clearly bored by the Maestor's ramblings, gestured for the horn to blow once more. Signifying the start of the trial by combat.
Before Oberyn could take his place, Ellaria pulled him close to her and pressed her lips upon his in a hungry, desperate kiss. There were worlds in that kiss and it almost made Morgana ache.
"Don't leave me alone in this world." Ellaria said, holding her lover back from the arena. Oberyn smiled at her, a soft smile so different from his usual teasing grins.
"Never." He promised and the uneasy feeling returned to Morgana as she watched him walk away.
He caught the spear, twirling it intricately through the air as he spun around the arena with all the usual showmanship of a Dornish warrior. Morgana had to suppress a roll of her eyes as the crowd burst into applause while he shot them that devil-may-care smile which had charmed many a man and woman into his bed.
"Have they told you who I am?" The Prince asked, facing the Mountain as he prepared his stance.
"Some dead man." Clegane responded gruffly, swinging his great sword swiftly while Oberyn dodged it artfully.
"I am the brother of Elia Martell. Do you know why I have come all the way to this stinking shit-pile of a city?" Oberyn grinned. "For you. I am going to hear you confess before you die. You raped my sister. You murdered her. You killed her children. Say it now and we can make this quick."
The Mountain lunged at him again with a roar, the Red Viper fending off the strike with his spear blade and knocking Clegane's helmet off in one fell swoop. Oberyn circled the man, an anger bleeding into his eyes that made Morgana uneasy.
"You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children." He repeated, still dodging the Mountain's furious attacks. "You raped her! You murdered her! You killed her children!" He said again, making a series of elegant attacks as Clegane's charges become slower and clumsier. Morgana felt a rush of hope which was quickly dashed as Oberyn raised his voice.
"YOU RAPED HER! YOU MURDERED HER!" Oberyn slashed the Mountain's right hamstring with the spearblade, bringing him to his knees. "YOU KILLED HER CHILDREN!" He leapt and stabed Ser Gregor through the chestplate, knocking him onto his back.
"Wait. Are you dying? No, no, no, you can't die yet, you haven't confessed!" Wrenching his spear free, he stalked around his prone opponent like the very Viper he was named for. "Say it. Say her name. Elia Martell. You raped her. You killed her children. Elia Martell."
He spun suddenly to Tywin on the raised dais beside Morgana's mother. His rage is blinding him, Morgana thought as she furiously bit her lip. The Dornish prince pointed her grandfather out of his ire.
"Who gave you the order? WHO GAVE YOU THE ORDER?! SAY HER NAME! YOU RAPED HER! YOU MURDERED HER! YOU KILLED HER CHILDREN! Say it. Say her name. SAY IT!"
All of Morgana's breath was knocked out of her when suddenly, the Mountain triped Oberyn to the ground, knocking his teeth out with one blow, and rolling over to pin him to ground. And then he began to gouge out his eyes. Morgana watched as Ellaria cried out, holding her hands to her face as furious tears streamed from her eyes.
"Elia Martell. I killed her children. Then I raped her. Then I smashed her head in LIKE THIS!" The Mountain cried and Morgana was unable to tear her eyes away as the once handsome Prince's skull caved in, blood spurting to the floor of the arena. He didn't even have to time scream, Morgana realised as she swallowed the dread that built up within her.
She watched as Oberyn fell limp, the mountain falling to the side as he was still wounded. Morgana's eyes flicked to her uncle whose small body seemed to shake with something. Rage, fear, sadness?
Her attention was drawn to the dais, where her mother sat grinning like a cat as Tywin stood to his feet and drawing the attention of the horrified crowd back to him.
"The gods have made their will known. Tyrion Lannister, in the name of King Tommen of the House Baratheon, First of His Name, you are hereby sentenced to death."
Fuck.
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