The Time Curse (Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon Fanfic)

Chapter 14: Bow, Bend, and Break

The moment Morgana's feet touched the ground an overwhelming sense of agony tore through her soul. 

The tournament was not her own, she knew. 

She felt one of the three bonds snap and break, bringing her to her knees. She felt a part of her soul whither and die. The other two bonds felt enraged, on fire in their fury and grief. 

She stood on shaking legs, and without a single command, her magic transformed her clothes into her battle gear. The familiar Auror's cloak hugged her tightly in a comforting embrace. She buried her emotions deep, letting murderous intent take its place. 

With a crack like thunder she was no longer in that cursed northern forest, she stood in a hot tropical kingdom. 

Her heart stopped and cracked.

Images of the wizarding war flashed across her mind. Death greeted her once more like an old friend as she stared blankly at Rhaenys Targaryen's corpse. 

Aegon and Visenya raged beside their fallen sister-wife. 

They both seemed to feel it at once, turning their attention to their beloved dragon witch. The void filled, and their pain dulled. Morgana was back but it was too late. 

Never again would she feel Rhaenys' loving touch. Never again would she earn that bright smile when the witch pronounced something correctly in High Valyrian. Never again would the sky inhabit the three heads of the dragon.

Morgana was growing far too accustomed to true misery. 

Her magic roared beneath her skin, she didn't want to hurt them by letting it free. She restrained herself, muttering one single word, "Who."

It was more command than question.

"Dorne," Visenya growled, fierce as the dragon she rode. 

"Tell me what you want." Morgana looked to Aegon for an answer. If he wanted them dead, she'd slaughter them all. If he wanted them to bend the knee, she'd ensure they knelt. If he wanted them to burn, they would burn. 

"...Dorne must join the seven kingdoms if we are to battle the long night. I want you to bend and break them. I want them to bow..." Aegon said, the pain evident in his shaking voice as he clutched Rhaenys' dead body. 

She turned, slowly walking towards the walled city of Dorne. Elegantly gliding among the flames like the serpent she was.

The Fall of Dorne

13 AC

Written by Princess Meria Martell in 17 AC

The moment the Targaryen Queen fell there was a change in the war, a change in the world. The sound of thunder cracked through the earth and there she stood, the serpent Queen. She dressed in black, her hair a dark onyx similar to our own. If she hadn't been so sickly pale we might have thought her Dornish. 

She stood before the Conquerer and the warrior queen, still and assured as death itself. We do not know what words were spoken. We do not know what was said, what order was given, but the next moment the steel eyes of death had turned towards Dorne. 

I knew then, that Dorne would fall. 

She walked among the flames, as if not a member of this mortal plain. The arrows shot at her never met their mark, a spelled barrier protecting her as she grew closer to the walls. Soldiers charged. She drew a tree branch from her cloak, and in the blink of a putrid green flash, they fell dead at her feet. 

The dragons landed at her side, tall and docile, watching their mistress and awaiting orders. She never gave any. She didn't need them.

She roared two words, "BOMBARDA MAXIMA!" Even now, our scholars do not recognize the language she spoke. The moment the cursed words left her lips the front gates exploded as did the walls surrounding it. 

The screams of my men still echo in my ears as they beg the goddess to let them live. She did not hear their pleas. 

All we could see was a flashing light, that horrible green and red that carved through the army of Dorne. 

I could not recount all that occurred, for how could one put into words the righteous wrath of a god?  The next time my mind could comprehend what was happening. My son, Prince Nymor Martell was suspended in the air, grabbing at his throat as his eyes begged me to save him. 

There she stood, face still and lifeless as marble. Steel grey eyes cut through me as she spoke in the common tongue, "Dorne is mine. You will kneel. Or I shall eliminate your bloodline and replace it with a wiser one, one who knows their place in the food chain." Her words haunt me. 

Dorne never bent, bowed, or broke for a dragon, however, it did for a serpent. 

As my knees hit the hard ground, she released my son, still I couldn't help but weep. A Princess no more, I was Lady of house, Martell. We maintained our house words as we did not fall like the others. It took a goddess to bring Dorne to its knees.

Morgana Slytherin left an aching scar on the history of Dorne. 

The Serpent became our symbol of deadly power. Bronze Snakes were placed on doorways as a symbol of protection, warriors called themselves vipers. 

Dorne did not fall by fire and blood. 

The words of House Slytherin are still whispered throughout the kingdom. Fearful to draw the goddess' wrath, "Do what is necessary". 

A terrifying phrase. 

Like all the Kingdoms of Westeros before, Dorne became a noble house, royal no more. My descendants may one day curse my memory for the loss in status. But I firmly believe if I had not knelt, House Martell would be the memory, not I. 

She crowned Aegon Targaryen King of the seven Kingdoms, but all of Dorne knows that it is not the conqueror they serve, but the serpent.  

Morgana stood at Aegon's side, hand tightly clutching his own. The warmth from Rhaenys' funeral pyr heated the air as they watched their loved one burn. 

Tears fell down Aegon's handsome face as he pulled Morgana closer to his side. He placed a ginger kiss atop Morgana's braided hair. 

"I've missed you, my beloved Gana." He whispered pulling her further into his embrace. 

"I'm sorry," Morgana whispered into his sweat-soaked neck. 

"You did nothing wrong." He assured.

"I let her die." She sobbed.

"You are not responsible for our lives. We are equal. We protect each other and the duty we must fulfill. You are not a curse Morgana, you are our salvation. Our avenger... We love you. Rhaenys loves you. You are our Pride, our soul." He lifted her head, looking into those silver eyes that he so adored. 

His heart may be broken. But Morgana was there. 

For a moment he ignored the grief that weighed in his chest. He ignored the darkening grey of her marks.

For this single moment, Morgana was here and he wasn't alone.