Hers Is The Fury

End Of The Nightmare

[King's Landing]

As the last rays of the setting sun disappeared beyond the horizon, the Night King stood on the ramparts of King's Landing, gazing out over the city of ashes and rubble.

His undead army, once vast and unyielding, now lay scattered across the battlefield, reduced to dust and bone by the relentless assault of dragonfire and Valyrian steel. Even the wights, once thought to be immune to death, had fallen before the combined might of the living.

But, the war was not over yet.

As long as he lived, the Night King possessed the ability to reanimate the deceased.

He raised his arms, and the air around him began to stir, the cold mist swirling into the shape of a massive, skeletal hand. Bones shifted and reformed, rising from the ground and the ruins of the city, answering the Night King's call. In a matter of moments, the battlefield was once again filled with the groaning, shambling figures of the undead.

Only, he then felt a presence behind him.

Turning, he saw a lone figure standing on the ruins of the Red Keep. It was a woman, clad in black and white armor, her hair streaming behind her in the wind. She was tall and regal, her features striking and otherworldly. Even from this distance, he could sense the power emanating from her, the fire burning within her soul.

The Night King's gaze narrowed as he recognized the woman before him. She was Morgana Baratheon, the reincarnated warrior maiden. And she was not alone.

Behind her stood Jon Snow - Azor Ahai, the man prophesied to bring about his end.

Morgana raised her hands, palms facing the sky, as her eyes began to glow with a fierce, otherworldly light.

"You have come far, my dark lord," she called out to the Night King, her voice ringing across the battlefield. "But your journey ends here."

Jon Snow, standing beside her, nodded in agreement. "Together, we shall end this," he declared.

Morgana lowered her hands, and with a shout that echoed across the battlefield, she drew forth her weapon: Darkfyre, the dragon she had bonded with, the beast that lived inside her soul. The great wyrm appeared before them, wings beating powerfully against the night sky as it let forth a deafening roar. Fire erupted from its mouth, engulfing the Night King and his army in a searing, blinding inferno.

Of course, while this managed to kill his followers, it had limited effect on the Night King.

He watched as the dragon circled the sky, breathing fire upon his undead minions, their bodies crumbling to dust.

The Night King's eyes narrowed, his focus shifting back to Morgana and Jon Snow. He could sense the power they wielded, the bond they shared. They were a formidable team, indeed.

He raised his arms once more, summoning the dead to his side. His army re-formed, its ranks thinned but no less determined. They charged forward, their skeletal forms moving with a horrifying grace, driven by an unholy hunger for the living.

Morgana and Jon Snow met the onslaught head-on, their weapons singing through the air as they defended themselves against the relentless attack. Darkfyre circled overhead, providing cover and launching devastating fireballs at the Night King's undead forces.

As they fought, they could feel the Night King's presence growing stronger. He was drawing upon some dark power, trying to turn the tide of battle in his favor. Morgana and Jon exchanged a glance, knowing that they had to act quickly. They separated, circling around the undead horde.

The Night King sensed their movement, and his skeletal form turned toward them. His eyes locked onto Morgana, and for a brief moment, they glowed with an unnatural light. Whatever power he was summoning, it was aimed directly at her.