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THIRTEEN —— TELL ME WHY THIS HAS TO END
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106 AC, STORM'S END.
There's a restlessness to Morrigan's chest— an unsteady rhythm that will not steady out no matter her efforts the closer the date of her departure draws. Now, so shortly before her return to King's Landing, she is plagued by the knowledge day and night— even her dreams warp into nightmares. If she can sleep, that is.
Her grandfather greets her with a smile as she enters the chamber he is using for private audiences, but it feels strained to her. "There you are, dear," he greets her as she steps inside, door closing behind her and she finds her father and Maester Lyonel standing around his desk, looking up at her.
She pauses, taking them in for a moment before she glances at her grandfather. He'd send a servant boy to fetch her, but perhaps urgent word had come or a discussion had run long. "Should I return later?" She asks, glancing at the Lord of Storm's End.
Her grandfather shakes his head. "No, no. Stay." He waves his left hand in the air. "It won't take long anyways."
Morrigan nods slowly, advancing into the room until she is at their side.
"Lord Brandon Tully's reply came late last night," her grandfather informs her. "He writes that they are overjoyed with such news."
Morrigan frowns a little. "So they accept?"
Her grandfather nods. "They accept."
She'd known— she had known that this would be the answer, and still, something heavy settles in her stomach. Like she's a rock, sinking in the sea down, down, down—
"When will the official announcement be?" Morrigan asks because she knows they must've already discussed this. Everyone involved in the decisions of these matters is already here.
