𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑 | arya stark

𝐢𝐢𝐢. family jewels

❝I swear,

I'm only cryptic and Machiavellian

'cause I care❞

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

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.