Hers Is The Fury

Broken Lord

[Winterfell]

In Winterfell, Princess Morgana Baratheon, daughter of King Robert and Queen Cersei, was known for her beauty and grace. But despite her privileged life, she struggled with night terrors that left her feeling lost and scared. Her mother, desperate for answers, sent her to Maester Luwin, hoping he could provide some explanation and solace.

When she arrived at Maester Luwin's chamber, she found him sitting at his desk, surrounded by stacks of parchment and scrolls. He looked up as she entered, his wise old face creased with concern.

As Morgana sat in the maester's chambers, surrounded by dusty tomes and ancient artifacts, she felt a sense of unease settle over her. The fire crackled and spat, casting flickering shadows on the walls as Maester Luwin listened intently to her tale.

"It started when I was just a child," Morgana explained, her voice trembling. "I would wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, my heart racing. I saw...things. Dark figures lurking in the corners of my room, their eyes glowing like embers."

Maester Luwin nodded thoughtfully, his fingers steepled together as he pondered her words. "These dreams, they seem to coincide with certain events, yes?"

Morgana nodded, feeling a chill run down her spine. "Yes, alwys. Whenever there is strife within the castle, or trouble beyond its walls, I have these dreams. And sometimes..." She hesitated, unsure if she should share what came next. "Sometimes, I see visions of the future. Things that haven't happened yet, but feel so real."

Maester Luwin leaned forward, his eyes filled with interest. "Tell me more," he urged.

But before Morgana could continue, a commotion erupted outside the chamber door. Voices shouted and feet pounded against the stone floor. Maester Luwin rose from his seat, his face grave.

"What news?" Morgana asked, her heart racing.

"Bran Stark has fallen," one of the guards announced, bursting into the chamber. "He was climbing the wall of the broken tower, and lost his footing. He fell from a great height."

Morgana gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Is he alive?"

The guard nodded his head. "Yes, my lady. But, he remains unconscious. The position he was found in leaves little hope that the young lord will be able to walk, if he survives."

Maester Luwin exchanged a somber glance with Morgana before turning back to the guard. "See that Lord Eddard is informed," he ordered.

Lord Stark, along with his heir, ward, and a large portion of the King's party had set out earlier that day on a hunt in the nearby woods.

As the guard departed, Morgana felt a strange sensation wash over her. It was as if something had shifted inside her, like a piece moving on a board. She looked at Maester Luwin, wondering if he had noticed it too.

But the old man only offered her a comforting smile, his eyes filled with understanding. "Do not worry, my dear," he said softly. "Whatever this power may be, we will uncover its secrets together." He hurried out of the room, in search of young Bran.

As Maester Luwin left, Morgana felt a shiver run down her spine. She couldn't help but wonder what other secrets lurked within the shadows of Winterfell, waiting to reveal themselves. And why did her night terrors seem to coincide with strange events such as this? Was it all just a coincidence, or was there some deeper connection between them all?

Morgana felt a cold dread creeping up her spine. This was no ordinary accident. Something told her there was more to it. From what she heard, the young boy was extremely skilled at climbing. To suddenly lose his footing was awfully suspicious, especially when it coincided with one of her night terrors.

As she exited the maestar's chambers, she noticed the castle was shrouded in darkness and gloom, reflecting the mood of its inhabitants. She made her way through the empty halls, her heart heavy with worry. She had been with Maestar Luwin when they heard the news of Bran's fall from the broken tower and knew that her betrothed, Robb Stark, was taking it hard.

As she approached the great hall, she saw Robb sitting alone, his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking with sobs. Without hesitation, she rushed to his side and knelt beside him, gently placing her hand on his shoulder.

"Robb," she whispered softly. "I am here for you. I heard what happened?"

At the sound of her voice, Robb looked up, his tears streaming down his face. He took a ragged breath, trying to compose himself before speaking. "It's all my fault, Morgana," he said hoarsely. "If only I had been there...if only I had been able to protect him..." His voice broke, and he buried his face in his hands, sobs wracking his body.

Morgana felt a pang of sadness in her chest, but she forced herself to remain strong for Robb's sake. She wrapped her arms around him and held him close, stroking his hair, offering what little comfort she could.

After a few moments, Arya and Rickon Stark appeared, their faces etched with worry and sadness. They hesitated at the doorway, unsure of how to intervene.

Morgana noticed them out of the corner of her eye and gave them a small nod. "Come here, children," she called out to them, her voice firm but gentle. "We must all support each other during these difficult times."

Arya and Rickon exchanged a look before joining their sibling and Morgana in the embrace. Together, they held each other, the warmth of their bodies providing a fragile sense of comfort amidst the cold, dark shadow of loss.

Morgana tried to distract them with stories of happier times. But even her efforts were no match for the weight of their collective sorrow.

Soon after, Sansa and Jon arrived, Sansa eyes red-rimmed from crying and Jon with a solemn look on his face. They took seats nearby, silent and subdued. The five of them sat together, bound by their shared worry, each one trying to find some small measure of solace in the others' company.

For a moment, the group remained frozen in silence, the only sounds the rustle of leaves and the mournful howls of the wolves beyond the walls. Then, as if sensing their need for distraction, a small bird flitted into the clearing, chirping a melody that seemed almost hopeful.

Morgana smiled faintly, her eyes still brimming with tears. "Look, a messenger from the gods," she said softly, nudging Robb's chin towards the bird. "Perhaps it brings us a message of strength and courage in these troubled times."

Robb sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "I wish I could believe that," he muttered, but even as he spoke, the bird alighted upon his shoulder, peering at him with bright, curious eyes. For just a moment, the weight of grief felt lifted, replaced by a flicker of hope. And in that fleeting instant, the group found the strength to hold on, to keep moving forward despite the shadows that loomed ahead.

Arya and Rickon exchanged worried glances before joining Morgana and Robb in a circle of support. Together, they tried to comfort each other, sharing memories of Bran and talking quietly to keep each other from falling apart.

Despite the sorrow that weighed heavily upon them, Morgana knew that she needed to do something to lift the mood. She leaned over to Robb and whispered a playful comment, trying to elicit a smile. And slowly but surely, the group began to laugh, if only slightly, as they remembered happier times with Bran.

For now, in this moment, they found solace in each other's company, holding onto hope that tomorrow would bring better dais.