Disclaimer: The characters, setting, and world involved in the Deryni universe completely belong to Katherine Kurtz. I'm only borrowing the characters for a little workout, but I'll certainly put them back just the way I found them. Thanks!
Author's Notes: This took some time to be written, in part. I mean, it was about an hour or so to write the ficlet itself. But part of it has been brewing in my brain for over a month, ever since beccadg had requested a teenaged Morgan angsty romance piece over here. So when she once again requested a Morgan piece, I found a way to prod the old boy into writing for me. So hopefully this will suffice for a nice little Morgan piece….
by A. Magiluna Stormwriter
He never expected to come to a point where he would pity the woman he'd first fallen in love with. Perhaps love wasn't the correct term. He'd certainly felt something for the lovely queen all those years ago. It was with an odd mix of fondness and pity that Morgan found himself once again watching Jehana from afar.
She was instructing Kelson's young bride in the fine arts of running the women's quarters. His own lovely wife had been asked to join Araxie's ladies in waiting. And judging by the dark looks being sent in Richenda's direction, he surmised that Jehana had already learned of that particular development.
He wondered at the folly of Jehana's overwhelming vehemence and hatred toward a part of her own heritage. And, not for the first time, he sent a silent prayer to God that she go off to the convent now that her only son was finally married. But he knew she wouldn't do any such thing until she knew a grandchild was imminent. Which would then predicate the fights over how that child would be raised.
He didn't envy his young king in the slightest.
A small part of him wondered what would have happened if Jehana had embraced her Deryni heritage. It didn't matter if it happened when she was yet a child or after the duel arcane at Kelson's coronation. She didn't realize what kind of chasm was being created between herself and her son. Particularly as he grew older and more into his manhood.
Perhaps a few years in the convent, away from the machinations of the court, would do Jehana some good. With Brion dead, her piety was all she had left. That and saving her son's immortal soul. Brion could have talked sense into her. Of course, if Brion were still alive, things would be quite different.
"Morgan, I certainly hope that look on your face doesn't portend badly for our young queen's domestic skills."
The silken brush of Richenda's voice in his head pushed away all thoughts of what might have been for Jehana, Queen Mother of Gwynnedd.
"Nothing more than old memories dredged up that would be better left buried."
And it was true. There was nothing worthwhile spent in wondering what might have been. He'd do better dealing in the present. His wife and children were his first concern, followed so closely by his king.