Morgana Baratheon was born in 285AC to King Robert Baratheon and his queen, Cersei Lannister. From the moment she took her first breath, it was clear that Morgana was destined for greatness.
Of all her siblings - Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen - she was the only one to inherit the distinctive Baratheon features that set her apart from their Lannister cousins. She had inherited her father's long, curly black hair, with streaks of silver, and her mother's piercing emerald eyes, and her fiery spirit was evident in every glance.
As a child, Morgana was alwys full of energy and curiosity, exploring the castle grounds and causing mischief wherever she went. But as she grew older, she began to realize that being a princess came with certain responsibilities and expectations. Her parents encouraged her to learn everything they could about ruling the Seven Kingdoms, from history to diplomacy to martial arts. And so, Morgana threw herself into her studies, determined to become the greatest queen the realm had evrr known.
That was, until she learned, her younger brother, Joffrey, would be King when their father died.
It made no sense to Morgana, not at first. But, she quickly realized, this was a man's world.
Women were expected to be seen, but not heard. To bare children for their lord husband, to not complain if or when he took mistresses.
Despite being the eldest child of King Robert Baratheon, Morgana knew that her place in society was not what it should be. Her mother, Queen Cersei, had always made it clear that Joffrey was the true heir, and that Morgana would have to content herself with a lesser role. But Morgana knew that she was the one who was truly worthy of ruling the Seven Kingdoms.
Joffrey was spoiled and arrogant, using his position as the future king to bully and manipulate those around him. But despite this, he was constantly praised and indulged by their mother, while Morgana was left to bear the weight of her own responsibilities without any support or recognition.
Morgana's eyes flashed with indignation as she thought of all the men who believed they were better suited to rule than her. They saw her only as a woman, weak and feeble, unable to wield the power of the Iron Throne. But they were wrong. Morgana had been studying the ancient texts, learning the art of diplomacy and warfare, determined to prove herself worthy of the crown.
Her desire to rule was no secret.
There were instances where she would be walking about the Keep, and overhear groups of courtiers whispering among themselves, their gazes fixed on her with disdain. "Look at her," one of them sneered, "she thinks she can rule? Ha! A woman's place is in the nursery, not on the throne." Morgana's grip on her composure tightened, her fingers aching with the urge to slap him across his smug face.
But she refused to give them the satisfaction. Instead, she turned away, her chin held high, and continued her walk, her heart heavy with the weight of injustice. For Morgana knew that the world was not fair, and that men like these would never see her as anything more than a pawn in their game of power and politics.
And so she plotted, biding her time, waiting for the day when she could rise up and claim what was rightfully hers. For Morgana Baratheon would not be silenced or ignored. She would make sure that the world knew her name, and trembled at her fury.
For centuries, Westeros has been ruled by men, and the thought of a woman sitting the Iron Throne was almost laughable. In this man's world, men did not wish to be ruled over by a woman. They believed that a queen could never truly be powerful, that she would alwys be weakened by her gender.
Even her own mother, Queen Cersei, had been relegated to the shadows, playing the role of loyal wife and doting mother rather than wielding any real power.
But Morgana refused to accept this fate. She had grown up surrounded by the whispers of her mother's ambition, and she knew that there was more to being a queen than simply looking pretty and smiling prettily. She had studied the histories of the Targaryens, who had once ruled Westeros with fire and blood, and she longed to follow in their footsteps.
And yet, every time she brought up her desire for power with her parents, they dismissed her as a silly girl who didn't understand the ways of the world. They told her that her place was beside a strong lord, supporting him and bearing his children, rather than ruling alongside him. But Morgana knew that this was not what she wanted. She wanted to rule, to make decisions, to shape the future of the realm. And so she relegated to keeping her dreams hidden, seething with frustration in the shadow of her brother's golden crown.
As she sat in the gardens of the Red Keep, Morgana couldn't help but feel resentment towards her family and their unfair treatment of her. She knew she was capable of being a great queen, one who would rule with wisdom and compassion, rather than the cruelty and tyranny that her brother seemed destined to bring upon the realm. But no matter how hard she tried, she could never seem to gain the respect and acknowledgement she deserved from her parents.
Just then, a servant approached her, bowing low before speaking in hushed tones. "My lady, a message has arrived from your father." Morgana's heart skipped a beat as she wondered what could be so important that her father would send a messenger. She rose to her feet, her determination renewed as she prepared to hear whatever message her father had sent for her. "I'm afraid I bring grave news. Lord Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King, has passed away."
Morgana felt a jolt of shock run through her body. Lord Arryn had alwys been a kind and wise mentor to her, and she had grown fond of him over the years. She couldn't imagine the kingdom without him.
"What caused his death?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
"It is said that he died from a mysterious illness, my lady," the servant replied. "There are rumors that he may have been poisoned, but nothing has been confirmed."
Morgana frowned, feeling a sense of unease creeping over her. The political landscape of Westeros was alwys treacherous, and the sudden loss of such a powerful figure could send ripples throughout the realm.
"Your family will need to travel north to Winterfell, my lady," the servant continued. "Your father intends to recruit Lord Eddard Stark as his new Hand."
Her father trusted few and Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, was one of those few.
Morgana nodded, knowing that this was a significant decision. Her father had long respected Lord Stark's honour and integrity, and she hoped that he would prove a worthy advisor. But she also knew that the journey ahead would be fraught with danger, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of fear for what lay ahead.