Hers Is The Fury

Reprieve From Politics

Her eyes met his, sparkling with determination. "Robb, think about it. We have the blood of dragons running through our veins, the support of the old gods, and a bond that transcends mortal understanding. We could be invincible. We could bring peace to the Seven Kingdoms, and unite them under a rule of justice and mercy."

She reached out, taking his hand in hers. "I know it's a lot to ask, and the power we wield could be dangerous if misused. But I believe in us, and I believe in our children. With your strength and wisdom, and my connection to the dragon magic, we can make a difference. We can create a kingdom that our children will be proud to inherit."

Robb considered her words, his expression thoughtful. He looked into her eyes, and saw not only the love they shared, but also the determination and the fire of destiny burning bright within her. He knew that if anyone could handle the power of dragon magic, it was Morgana.

He took a deep breath, his broad chest expanding beneath his fur cloak. "Very well, my love. If you believe this is what we must do, then I will stand by your side. Together, we will face whatever challenges come our way. But you must promise me one thing."

Morgana leaned in closer, her eyes never leaving his. "What is it, my king?"

"You must always remember that our love comes first. No matter what power you wield, or what trials we face, you must never let it come between us. Our bond must remain stronger than the magic that flows through your veins."

Morgana's eyes shone with tears of gratitude as she nodded solemnly. "I swear it, my love. Our love will always be the foundation upon which we build our lives, and our kingdom. Together, we will face whatever comes our way, and we will conquer it."

Robb smiled, his face softening as he brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead. "Good, because I don't know about you, but I am eager to see what the future holds. With you by my side, my dragon-blooded queen, we can accomplish great things."

They sat together in the shadows of the godswood, lost in each other's eyes and the dreams they shared. The night air was cool, but they hardly noticed as they spoke of their hopes and fears, their dreams and desires. Around them, the ancient stones of the weirwood tree seemed to glow with a pale, otherworldly light, as if in silent agreement with the promises they had made.

Their two sons, Eddard and Robert, slept peacefully in the blankets at their feet, oblivious to the weight of the responsibility their parents bore.

The air was crisp with the chill of winter, but it did little to dampen the warmth that filled Morgana's heart as she listened to Robb speak of his ancestors. His voice was deep and resonant, filled with the pride of family and tradition. She couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the history they were a part of, and the legacy they were creating together.

As they sat beneath the ancient weirwood tree, surrounded by the stony statues of the Old Gods, Morgana couldn't help but feel a profound sense of belonging. Despite the weight of their responsibilities, this place, this moment, felt like home. She glanced over at Robb, his ruggedly handsome face lit up with stories of long-dead kings and legendary battles. He was every inch the King that he was, commanding respect and admiration with nothing more than his presence.

He spoke of the legendary Bran the Builder, who had crafted the great Wall to protect the realm from the dangers beyond. And he told of Torrhen Stark, who had been the last King in the North, and had willingly bent the knee to the Targaryen conqueror, Aegon the Conqueror. It was a tale of both strength and wisdom, of knowing when to fight and when to yield.

The Godswood had quickly become a place of solace for Morgana, a place where she could feel connected to the world around her, to the ancient magic that flowed through her veins. She knew that her bond with Robb was as strong as the roots of the weirwood tree, and that together they could face any challenge that came their way. Even the distant whispers of the White Walkers and the threat of the Night King seemed less ominous when she was with her husband.