In the blink of an eye, three weeks had passed. In the few moments Morgana found herself alone, she went through the time spell she cast in her head. She determined that perhaps wearing dragon leather gloves had somehow altered the delicate spell and sent her to the place dragon magic was the strongest.
It was a running theory but it was a start. Unfortunately, due to being sent to another universe, very few of the same ingredients existed so there was no way to return. It was endlessly frustrating to determine commonalities and differences between her world and this one.
One thing she had noticed was the runes from the spell were still attached to her skin. Only now the black symbols had turned white. But as time progressed, the runes grew darker and darker. Now they sat on her skin as a deep grey. She had no idea what the darkening symbols mean, but she had a feeling it was not good. The others had also noticed the markings, running their fingers along the runes trying to determine what they meant even after Morgana had shared her life story with them.
The Targaryens grew very attached to the girl very quickly.
Visenya had taken it upon herself to teach Morgana the histories and political climate of the seven kingdoms as well as their noble houses. She reminded Morgana of Narcissa Malfoy more often than not in these lessons, remembering the same type of schooling from her youth.
Rhaenys had a lot of fun teaching Morgana some High Valyrian. The Targaryen was shocked to find out how quickly she picked it up, the Slytherin told her it was because the language seemed based in Latin and Greek, two languages she already knew. Not to mention the witch was an exceptionally fast learner.
Rhaenys she found was a very affectionate woman. She would kiss Morgana's cheeks and hold her hand, smiling brightly when the little witch spoke in the Targaryen mother tongue. Visenya was a bit more reserved but she too showed her affection by playing with her hair or keeping a hand on her back. At eighteen, Morgana was the youngest of them and Visenya took that very seriously in her need to care for the youngest.
Aegon was often busy plotting his conquest but he found every available moment with his wives and Morgana. He had been referring to them all as his wives, earning a confused look from the grey-eyed girl herself. Aegon too had a habit of touching Morgana, kissing the top of her head or her knuckles any chance he got. Each of the Targaryens adored their other fourth, feeling complete in her presence.
They also marveled at her magic. Morgana had created runes and carved them in every corner of Dragonstone, similar to those at Hogwarts. With the use of the Targaryen's blood, she created blood wards to protect the stronghold from harm or invasion. She created rooms that could only be entered by those with Targaryen blood or hers.
If people thought the Targaryens were obsessive about the Slytherin witch, their dragons were infinitely worse. Vhagar, Meraxes, and Balerion all adored the young speaker, growing stronger in her mere presence. If she was gone too long, the dragons would start whining for all of Dragonstone to hear until their friend returned to them.
Morgana was currently reclined against Vhagar as she mindlessly rambled to the dragons who all crowded around her. Aegon, Visenya, and Rhaenys approached, smiling at the sight. The dragons lifted their heads to see their riders coming closer.
"We missed you at breakfast, Gana." Rhaenys smiled subtly testing Morgana's High Valyrion before taking her usual spot to Morgana's left. The first time Morgana had been called Gana, she was wildly confused. Evidently, nicknames are used to display affection, something she was growing more accustomed to as time went on.
The Targaryens picked up pretty quickly that their little witch wasn't used to much social interaction with people that liked her. She grew up isolated, her only real human interaction being the occasional visit from the Malfoys and even they were often stiff and formal with her. When she went to Hogwarts most regarded her with distrust until they needed something from her. People were always afraid to get too close to her and her stoic, unwelcoming demeanor didn't help much.
No matter how hard she tried to push out of her isolation, she was always known as the Last Slytherin. Even when she joined the golden trio, there was a clear line of division between her and the others.
She was still learning what was normal behavior when people enjoyed her presence so she didn't really pick up the flirty behavior from the silver-haired Valyrians.
"I apologize. The dragons were calling me." Morgana answered as she continued to braid the three blades of grass in her hands. Her High Valyrian still had an accent, but she was picking it up very quickly, much to the Targaryen's delight.
"Morgana, darling, we wanted to discuss something with you," Visenya said, once more fixing the black windblown curls. Morgana hummed to express she was listening while laying her head on Visenya's shoulder.
"The dream I told you about when we first met, do you remember what I said?" Aegon asked sitting in front of the girls, his hand resting on Morgana's outstretched leg.
"Yes. Promised prince. Super evil winter coming to wipe out mankind, I remember."
"Do you remember your role in the dream?" Aegon asked, lightly massaging her calf.
Morgana looked up confused, "Well I was there... That's all. I put my hand on the blurry prince's shoulder."
"I believe that that part of the dream symbolized that the promised prince was meant to descend from you and I... Which is why we wanted to talk to you about marrying us." Aegon clarified, waiting for her response.
"We love you, Morgana. Even without the prophecy, we would want you by our side." Rhaenys added, placing a light kiss on Morgana's shoulder.
"You are meant to be with us, little one." Visenya agreed lifting Morgana's chin to look up at her. Purple met grey and Visenya could see the doubt and confusion swirling in the young witch's mind. Her heart ached at the vulnerability in that grey gaze.
Morgana was spiraling.
Someone wanted her. Not needed, wanted. Someone loved her and wanted her by their side. Not only one person, three people! She could have that family she always longed for. She wouldn't be feared or hated, she'd be adored and understood.
To them, Parseltongue was coveted, in her world the mere mention of her family's gift sent people into a rampage. They looked at her and they didn't see a dark witch in the making. They saw only her.
"We could... be family?" She asked, the quiet vulnerability shaking their souls as they pulled her closer.
"Yes, sweetling. What do you say?" Aegon asked once more.
Their hearts stalled in their chest when they saw it, a real beaming smile gracing Morgana's lovely face. It was the most beautiful sight they had ever seen. In all their time with Morgana, they had only ever received a slight upwards twitch of her lips or at most a small demure smile. But there she was, grinning brightly as the sun, happy to accept their proposal.
And with that preparations began.
In two nights they got a Septon, ready to perform their Valyrian-style wedding. They had explained the ceremony to Morgana in preparation.
Visenya, Aegon, and Rhaenys all stood at the front of the hall awaiting their new bride. They were dressed in their traditional red and black Wedding garments that they had worn only twice before. The first time was for Aegon and Visenya's wedding, and the second was for Rhaenys to join.
When the doors opened in walked Morgana. She wore a dark green and black Valyrian robe ensemble, and on her head rested a Silver Diadem in the form of a snake, symbols of her own noble house.
"Something is wrong," Morgana announced as she entered the room. The happy daze left the Targaryens immediately as they saw the worried look on their bride's face.
Aegon was the first to act, approaching Morgana and taking her hands in his, "What is wrong?"
She lifted her sleeves to show the marks had faded completely to black. The veins in her arms turned black as well, quickly spreading through her body. "The spell. It's still active. I can feel it. I'm going away again."
A shot of terror shot through the Targaryens as they surrounded their heartbroken bride.
"What do you mean?" Visenya asked, the fear evident in her tone.
"The magic I used to come here, the spell is still active somehow. I don't understand it but I can feel it." Morgana was clearly worried.
She knew it was too good to be true. Having a family was never meant for someone like her. Tears filled her eyes causing Aegon to panic slightly. "No, no, no. Don't cry, my love. It will all be alright. We'll figure it out." The man rushed to comfort his newest little bride, whipping the tears as they spilled down her face.
"Call the Maesters... Or I don't know, someone with experience with magic," Visenya ordered the guards.
"I don't think we have time, Senya. It's spreading," Rhaenys informed them, showing that the tendrils of black magic were crawling up Morgana's tear-stained cheeks.
"Well, we can't do nothing!" Visenya spat, her fear quickly turning to rage.
"I don't want to go," Morgana whispered, breaking all of their hearts. They heard the dragons roar from outside as if they too sensed the impending magic.
Morgana took off her silver diadem closing her eyes as she focused her magic and it shifted into a golden crown in her hand. The crown was lovely, and on the front housed the Targaryen symbol, a three-headed dragon. Morgana whispered a few charms, putting some magic into its metal.
She placed the crown caringly on Aegon's head, "I don't know if I'll be here for your conquest. But I can still protect you as I promised... Every king needs a crown. This should protect you, and bring you luck and wisdom in battle."
Aegon accepted the gift before pulling Morgana into his arms. As if her strength faded, Morgana collapsed, the dark magic spreading even faster. Rhaenys gasped in horror as she too sunk to Morgana's side. Visenya was screaming orders, trying desperately to get someone who could help.
They could all feel the magic in the air as the dark tattoo-like ink began to glow gold.
"We love you. We will find you." Aegon swore. He cupped the side of her face once more, his thumb wiping the fallen tears from her face. Then as if possessed he found himself smashing his lips against hers in a desperate display of love. It was the first time he had done anything so blatantly romantic. The simple action set every nerve of his body on fire as if a missing part of his soul was finally complete. He should have kissed her ages ago, he decided, and for a moment he was so lost in ecstasy he forgot what was happening around him.
But that pure joy disappeared as did the weight in his arms. He opened his eyes to find no remnant of her at all, none except the weight of the crown resting upon his brow.
Morgana was gone.