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I. Succession (2018-2023), Jesse Armstrong / II. Abject Permanence, Larissa Pham / III. ???, Jorge Mascarenhas / IV.I'm Broke and Mostly Friendless, and I've Wasted My Whole Life, Heather Havrilesky / V.Swallowtail, Brenna Twohy
𓃴𓃴𓃴
Morrigan Blonos comes from a long line of violence.
Categorical data of The House of Blonos states: A long line of violence, a long line of pain, a dynasty of dragons.
Blonos is a last name belonging to an old pureblood family hailing from an island of magic that ceased to exist a century ago. Blonos is a noose, a shackle, a karmic lineage of doom from a lost empire. They are the last of the blood of the dragon. Everyone always said that the Blonoses were closer to gods than men. Morrigan knows better. They only say that because of their dragons.
Morrigan has never remembered the exact theory in her remedial healing lessons, but through hazy cigarette smoke she can picture Poppy Pomfrey waving her hands around and moving her pursed lips: the eldest sibling leaves traces of their magical signature in the womb for the next sibling to absorb. If this is true, Morrigan, not the eldest daughter nor the youngest, carries a piece of Mare- set to succeed The House of Blonos- while Margaret-set to inherit nothing, carries her. There is a sick sort of irony there. She hates them.
She hates Mare for being everything to her father simply by coming first in the birth order. She hates Margaret for being a perpetual haunted house of a person with her whispered dragon dreams and glassy-eyed looks. She hates herself for being the spare. Logically, she is aware that hating them is wrong. As far as she knows, even The Black brothers have some semblance of love for each other, but this emotion is just an unfortunate condition that comes with their last names. Morrigan knows nothing about love. She'd kill anyone she ever gave her love to. And isn't love just that? Violence?
Her father hated his siblings too, and now one was six feet under, the other a bitter shell, while he helmed the house and whispered poison into The Minister of Magic's ear. All to funnel gold into the wrong vaults and create a society filled with blood-stained halls and wailing portraits-a society with room for a select few. Morrigan cannot understand why he cannot love his children the way he loves such power, why he'll never value her the way he does her idiot bumbling male cousins. Every part of her: his voice crooning in her ear and coming out of her mouth, the way she grasps her wand-is him. She holds more of him in her body than Mare or Margaret do. And she's proud of it, choosing not to bury it deep down the way that they, atleast Margaret, are desperate to. In the end, none of it truly means anything. These days, Volo Blonos is merely an extension of The Dark Lord.
