Hers Is The Fury

Attempted Abduction

[Winterfell]

As the winter winds howled through the ancient walls of Winterfell, Queen Morgana Baratheon, daughter of King Robert and Cersei Lannister, strode purposefully across the grounds. Her dark hair, freed from its customary braids, whipped around her face like a living thing, and her green eyes scanned the terrain with the keen gaze of a battle-hardened warrior. Dressed in a suit of armor that fit her slim frame like a second skin, she was a striking figure, commanding respect and admiration wherever she went. But today, as she made her rounds to ensure that everything was in readiness for the upcoming battle against the Night King and his army of the dead, she could feel unease gnawing at the pit of her stomach.

It was that damnedable premonition again, the one that had plagued her since childhood, the one that had warned her of the betrayal her husband would face, and the same one that foretold the coming of the White Walkers and the doom that they would bring. Even now, as she walked past the stable blocks and the training yards, she could feel it tugging at the edges of her consciousness, urging her to turn around and return to the safety of the castle. But duty bound her to continue, to see to it that Winterfell was ready to face whatever horrors might be lurking beyond the walls.

As she rounded a corner, however, her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a sharp pain in her chest and a feeling of pressure on her mouth. Before she could cry out, someone had grabbed her from behind, pinning her arms to her sides and muffling her cries. Her heart pounded with fear as she struggled against her assailant, but it was no use; she was overpowered by two burly men who dragged her deeper into the shadows.

"Who sent you?" she gasped out, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "What do you want with me?"

The man behind her grunted and pressed harder against her, his grip painful and bruising. "Silence, woman," he growled. "You're coming with us, whether you like it or not."

Morgana struggled against the iron grip that held her, but it was no use. She was strong, but these men were stronger. Her heart pounded in her chest as she struggled for breath. She felt a wave of panic wash over her, and she struggled even harder. She had to get free.

"Tell me who sent you," she demanded, her voice trembling with fear and rage. "I swear, if you don't tell me now, I'll make sure you both regret the day you were born!"

The man behind her laughed, a cruel and mocking sound. "Oh, we've heard that before, haven't we?" he sneered. "You Baratheons, you all think you're so tough. Well, let me tell you something, my lady. You may have the name, but you don't have the strength to back it up. You're just another pawn in this game, and your father's death was just the first move."

The other man, a huge brute with hands like claws, grabbed her roughly by the hair and yanked her head back. His breath reeked of cheap ale and sour meat. "Now, you listen to me, little girl," he growled. "Your mother sent us, and we're here to take you back to King's Landing where you belong. So you can either come with us nice and easy, or we can drag you there kicking and screaming."

Morgana felt a surge of fury rise up within her. "My mother?" she spat, trying to wriggle free. "Cersei Lannister is no mother of mine! She's a scheming bitch who cares only for herself and her power!"

The man behind her laughed again, his grip tightening painfully. "Oh, you're a fiery one, aren't you? That's what I like to hear. You'll make quite the addition." He paused, his voice lowering menacingly. "But you're going to have to learn your place, girl. And your place is by your mother's side, where you belong."

As they dragged her deeper into the shadows, Morgana struggled against them, her heart pounding with fear and anger. She tried to summon up the courage to scream for help, but her throat was dry and raw from the struggle. She was terrified that if she made a sound, it would only get whoever came to help killed.