Hers Is The Fury

Preparing For Final Stand

[King's Landing]

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm hue upon the Seven Kingdoms, Queen of the North, Morgana Baratheon, stood in the main solar of the brothel which had been one of the locations provided as temporary living for the living army.

Her emerald eyes scanned the city of King's Landing, taking in the hustle and bustle of its people as they went about their daily routines.

The living had been forced to retreat from Winterfell following their battle against Night King and his undead army.

They had arrived in King's Landing, a motley crew of Northern soldiers, wildlings, Dornish soldiers, Velaryon soldiers, Baratheon loyalists, Daenerys and her advisors, plus Drogon and Rhaegal, the Dothraki and Unsullied.

Now, they found themselves given temporary accommodations in the city, and the queen was preparing for the Night King's arrival.

As Morgana stood there, she felt a strange sense of calm wash over her. It was as if the chaos and destruction of the past were mere dreams, fading further and further into the distance with each passing moment. The weight of responsibility that had been pressing down upon her shoulders seemed to lift, if only for a brief instant.

She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and closed her eyes. In that moment, she felt the power of the dragon surge through her veins, a fierce and primal energy that made her feel invincible. It was as if she could hear the words of the ancient prophecy, whispering in her ear, urging her onward.

Morgana knew that she was different from the others. She was the reincarnated version of the warrior maiden, a figure from a prophecy which said she was destined to aid the Prince That Was Promised, who she learned was Jon Snow, defeat Night King. Her magic was not like any other sorceress in the realm; it was a part of her very essence, a gift from the gods themselves.

She had scoured tomes, looking for more ways to use her magic, so she could be more useful. The night before, she had a dream, where a woman was speaking to her. She couldn't see anyone and had never heard this voice. The woman told her that she was see her soon.

The thought of the dream brought a smile to her lips. It was as if the woman was her own personal guide, leading her towards her destiny. As Morgana stood there, lost in thought, she felt a sudden tap on her shoulder. Startled, she turned around to find Ser Davos Seaworth, the former smuggler and now known as the Onion Knight, standing beside her.

"Your grace," he said, inclining his head in respect. "I was hoping I might have a word with you."

Morgana smiled warmly at the knight. "Of course, Ser Davos. How may I assist you?"

Ser Davos hesitated for a moment, his expression grave. "I've served your uncle, Stannis Baratheon, and now I serve Jon Snow. I just wanted to say that I think you're doing a good job, Your Grace. You've already done a great deal in advancing the North."

"All of which will be for naught if we don't defeat the Night King." She responded. "I've been reading tome after tome, searching for something to help us. Something to magnify my powers. Then I had that weird dream..."

"Dream?"

"The voice of a woman, speaking to me. But, I couldn't see anyone. I was hoping it had something to do with my role as the warrior maiden. That I could find something in one of these tomes. But, nothing."

Morgana paused, her emerald eyes distant as she tried to recall the dream. "She said she'd see me soon. I don't know if it was a vision or a premonition. But, I feel like it's important. That whatever is meant to happen, will."