Hers Is The Fury

Strategies For The Undead

[Winterfell - Great Hall]

As the wind howled outside, the great hall of Winterfell was filled with a palpable tension. Robb and Morgana, King and Queen of the North, sat on their thrones, their faces etched with concern. Beside them, Jon Snow, his features hardened, nodded gravely as he listened to the latest report. Sansa, her delicate hand clutching the armrest of her chair, looked terrified, while Catelyn, her eyes brimming with determination, tried to reassure her daughter. Hela, the close advisor of Morgana, paced back and forth, muttering to herself about ancient scrolls and forgotten spells. And then, there was Daenerys Targaryen, her advisors at her side. The gathering was summoned to discuss a threat unlike any they had ever faced before: the dead were marching south, and Winterfell was their target.

Before he left with Sam to the Isle of Faces, Bran told them that the Night King had reanimated Daenerys' fallen dragon, Viserion, and used him to destroy the Wall; the barrier which had protected Westeros for centuries.

"The Wall has fallen," Morgana said. "Our greatest defense against the horrors of the north is gone."

Jon Snow looked grim. "Aye, my lady. And now the Night King's army is marching south, led by an undead dragon. We must prepare ourselves for the battle of our lives."

"Why don't we just send out the dragons to reduce the size of the army?" Sansa asked. "If we can diminish their numbers, it will be easier to defeat them."

Daenerys Targaryen hesitated, her eyes flashing with grief and guilt. "I...I can't," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Viserion died trying to fight them. I can't risk losing another dragon."

The room fell silent, the weight of Viserion's sacrifice hanging heavy in the air.

Jon looked at Daenerys with a mixture of understanding and frustration. He knew that the dragons were her last remaining children, and he couldn't blame her for not wanting to risk losing another one. Even if Rhaegal was now technically his dragon.

But the need to protect the realm from the Night King's army was paramount. The living had to find a way to defeat the dead, no matter the cost.

And the army's two greatest weaknesses were fire and dragonglass. Dragonglass which they had mined on Dragonstone and had been forging into new weapons.

"We have to try," Sansa said, her voice now firm and resolute. "We can't just sit here and wait for the Night King and the dead to arrive. We have to take action."

Morgana exchanged a look with Hela, who nodded.

"Are any of you familiar with the warrior maiden?" She asked.

The room was silent for a moment, each person there looking at each other, wondering if they knew who she was talking about. Finally, Jon Snow stepped forward. "You mean the one from the prophecy? The one who's destined to aid the Prince That Was Promised?"

Morgana nodded. "Yes, that is who I mean." She took a deep breath and continued. "I am that warrior maiden. I inherited the power of the dragon from my Targaryen ancestors; a power, select few among them possessed. I can control the elements, summon a dragon from within my body and soul, and much else."

She caught the particularly suspicious glance she received from Daenerys.

"I know it sounds incredible, Your Grace," she began, "but I assure you, the power I wield is no less real for it being within me. My entire life, I've been plagued by what I thought were night terrors. When, in reality, it was preparing me for my fate."

Morgana drew in a deep breath, her eyes shining with determination. "I can summon a dragon from within myself. It's not the same as having one of the creatures you've raised, my lady, but it will serve just as well in battle."