🌺 Tides and Thrones — The Morning After The castle was loud. The garden was not.
Among wild lavender and hibiscus, Bridget rocked baby Heather beneath a flowering archway—barefoot, calm, humming.
Morrigan stood at the edge, frozen. Watching.
Morrigan: “You gave me midwifery.” Bridget: “Because you didn’t ask for it. And because I’ve seen how you hold her.”
She didn’t mean politics. Or posture. She meant Heather. The baby. The softness Morrigan tried so hard to hide. Morrigan (quietly): “I’ve always wanted children. But I can’t. Not with who my father is. He’ll take them. Use them. Break them.” Bridget: “He won’t. Not while I’m breathing.” A long silence. Then—Bridget offered her Heather. And Morrigan took her. Held her. Let herself feel something real. Morrigan (whispered): “I won’t let him touch her.” Bridget: “I know.” And for the first time in a long time, beneath sun-dappled leaves and the hush of bees, Morrigan allowed herself to hope. Just a little.
🍼 Next on Tides and Thrones — We start the month together...