Chapter Seven, Queen of Fire and Ice

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Chapter Seven, Queen of Ice and Fire

Robb was bored out of his mind as he listened to the old men argue amongst themselves. He just wanted to take his wife into his arms and comfort her; since they'd found out her visions had come true she's been besides herself, blaming herself for not doing more. Not that she could've done anymore than she had.

They'd received word a few days ago that his father and Jory had been injured and imprisoned for being traitors while the rest of the guard had been killed. Though the letter was written in Sansa's hand writing he knew they were the words of the Queen. What worried him more than his father were his sisters, Sansa was likely being held prisoner without her knowledge and Arya was not mentioned at all. Since then Robb had called his banners, Oberyn, the sand snakes and those loyal to Morgana in Dorne had traveled North to answer his call.

Just as Lord Umber stood apologising in a round about way for drawing his sword against Robb, only after GreyWind had taken off two of his fingers mind you. The doors to the Great Hall opened and in stepped Morgana dressed in her dragon hide armour (as the dragons shed she used their old hide to make it), that clung to her like second skin. She walked in confidently her head held high and her sword Dark Sister strapped to her left hip and the sword his father had given her strapped to her right hip.

She looked like a warrior queen of old as she entered with Bran at her side who was thankfully able to walk again though he had a slight limp, he still did not remember what had happened to him for the time being. The Wildling, Osha, they'd taken in when they had attacked Bran and Ana while ridding was looking after Rickon, keeping him busy in his room.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and openly stared at his wife and brother as they entered the three large wolves and the three rather large dragons sticking close to Morgana and Bran as they entered assessing all within if they were a danger to their Mistress and Master. Following shortly behind the wolves and dragons were Morgana's Guards.

"By the old gods!" Roose Bolton gasped as he along with everyone else took in the sight of the three rather large dragons following in behind the new Lady Stark and young Bran Stark. "My dear niece. How're you?" Oberyn asked as he stood up to greet his niece stopping when the dragons hissed at him, but stopped as soon as Morgana raised her hands showing everyone in the room that the dragons listened to her proving the rumours were true, she was indeed the Mother of Dragons.

"I'm as well as I can be Uncle." Morgana said cordially but those who knew her well, which Oberyn liked to think he did if given they'd only been exchanging letters but she had much of her mother in her; knew that she was stressed and didn't wish to show it in a room that would attack her like vultures. "Given the circumstances." She sat in the chair besides Robb after giving her uncle a quick hug. Bran running to the seat next to her still marvelling at the use of his legs. "What is it Cousin?" Obara, one of Oberyn's daughters, Morgana's cousin asked seeing the tight look and fury shining in her eyes making them glow brighter than any stone, as a wind started to whip around the room.

"Ana?" Robb asked concerned for his wife. "I had a vision it's a damn prophecy." She sighed in aggravation.  The wolves and dragons who had curled around her, Robb's and Bran's chairs hissed and growled as they sensed her distress. Nymeria resting her head on Morgana's knee. "And those in the south need to be taught a lesson."
"What was the prophecy about my love?" Robb asked seeing as that was what was upsetting his wife the most.  He rested a hand on her leg as she gathered her composure before reciting what she'd seen.

"'Three daughters shall be born to The Mother of Dragons... The Mistress of Death...
Three daughters to unite the kingdoms and in the darkness bind them...
One for the the West where the gardens lie,
One for the South where the deserts are still dry,
One for the East where the horse lords shall join the forces of all Westeros as foretold...
At Summers end and Winters cold three daughters shall be born...
To a mother who will vanquish the Lord of the Dead, by the sound of dragons old.'" Morgana recited in a monotone voice, one hand rubbing her stomach that looked bigger than the three months that she was while the other rubbed Nymeria's head then Aithusa's.

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