Hers Is The Fury

Inheritance

A/N: Eir

[King's Landing]

As chaos raged on outside, Queen of the North, Morgana Baratheon, remained unconscious in the healer tent, following a one-on-one confrontation with the Night King.

The only indicators of life; the rise and fall of her chest.

The healer, a tall and sturdy man with a long grey beard and wise eyes, sat cross-legged next to her. His hands, rough and calloused from years of tending the sick and wounded, gently caressed her forehead. He whispered softly to her, his words carrying the weight of a thousand prayers.

The air inside the tent seemed to hum with an almost imperceptible energy. It was as if the very fabric of reality was stretched thin, ready to tear apart at any moment. The healer, sensing this change, glanced up warily. His eyes widened in recognition as he saw an ethereal figure standing at the entrance of the tent. It was Eir, the previous warrior maiden.

"My lady," the healer murmured, bowing his head in reverence.

Eir slowly glided towards the unconscious form of Morgana, her gown rustling softly against the canvas walls of the tent. Her face was pale, but her eyes shone with a fierce determination. She placed a gently hand on Morgana's shoulder, her touch as light as a feather.

"My queen," she whispered, her voice as warm as the summer breeze. "It is time for you to awaken."

As if in response to Eir's words, Morgana's eyelids fluttered open. She looked around, confused and disoriented. The healer and Eir exchanged sympathetic glances.

"Do not fear, my lady," Eir said softly, her voice steady and reassuring. "I am here to help you understand what is happening."

Morgana felt a wave of relief wash over her. She looked up at Eir, then down at her own hands, still trembling slightly from the encounter with the Night King. "Who are you?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"My name is Eir," the ethereal figure replied, her voice taking on a more commanding tone. "I was the warrior maiden who came before you. It is time for you to accept your destiny, Morgana. You must become the next warrior maiden, for only then can you fulfill your purpose."

Morgana felt a chill run down her spine as she took in these words. She looked into Eir's ancient eyes and saw the truth written there. Slowly, she nodded her head in understanding. "I will do whatever it takes," she said, her voice strong and steady. "I will protect the Seven Kingdoms, and I will help defeat the Night King."

Eir smiled, her face crinkling with warmth. "Very well, my lady. Then it is time for you to accept the full extent of your powers." With a graceful motion, she placed a hand on Morgana's chest, just above her heart. A surge of energy coursed through her body, making her limbs tingle and her senses heighten.

As the energy subsided, Morgana felt different; stronger, more confident, more in tune with the world around her. She sat up, her back straight and her head held high. She looked Eir in the eye and smiled. "Thank you," she said, her voice steady and firm. "I am ready."

Eir nodded, her expression solemn. "Remember, my lady, your powers come with great responsibility. You must use them wisely and only for the greater good. The fate of the Seven Kingdoms rests upon your shoulders."

Morgana took a deep breath, feeling the weight of Eir's words. She looked around the tent, taking in the chaos that raged on outside. The sounds of battle, the cries of the wounded, and the shouts of command filled the air. She knew that she had to face this new reality head on.

"The time has come for me to rest," Eir continued. "I bid you good luck, Morgana Baratheon, the new warrior maiden."

With those words, the ethereal figure began to shimmer, slowly disappearing from view, only for the shining orb of light left behind to travel towards Morgana.