[Narrow Sea]

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an ethereal glow across the water, Morgana Baratheon, cloaked in a hooded crimson cloak, gazed out over the sea from the bow of the ship. The journey they had embarked on was one fraught with danger, and she could not help but wonder if they would make it to their destination alive. Beside her stood her loyal guard, a burly man named Ser Justin, his eyes constantly scanning the horizon for any signs of danger.

Morgana's thoughts drift back to the events that brought them here. The failed betrayal at the Red Wedding, orchestrated by her grandfather, left her husband, Robb Stark, and his mother, Catelyn, bloodied and defeated. They survived, but barely. In a desperate attempt to save their family, Morgana sent Robb and Catelyn to seek refuge in Volantis, the home of their fallen friend, Talisa Maegyr, whom had been a victim of the Red Wedding.

Along with her infant twin sons, Eddard and Robert, and her handmaiden, Elana, Morgana followed them across the Narrow Sea. The boys, mere babes, had inherited traits from both parents: Eddard's russet brown hair from his father and green eyes from his mother, and Robert's black hair like her and Robb's Tully blue eyes. They were precious to Morgana, the last remaining bits of the life she and Robb had once shared.

As the ship drew closer to shore, Morgana could make out the outline of Volantis in the distance. Its towering walls and grand, golden towers shimmered in the setting sun, promising a new beginning for her family. She clutched her sons tighter, willing her heart to stop racing as she thought of seeing Robb's face again. The journey had been long and arduous, but it had brought them to this moment. Soon, they would be reunited as a family, and they would face whatever challenges lay ahead together.

The dock bustled with activity as the ship pulled into port. Merchants hawked their wares, sailors shouted to one another, and the smell of the sea mingled with the spices of foreign lands. Morgana's guard, Ser Justin, expertly navigated the crowds, making sure that their passage was unimpeded. They finally reached the end of the dock, where a group of people waited anxiously for their arrival.

Morgana's heart leapt into her throat as she saw Robb and Catelyn standing among them. They looked worn, harder, but there was still a spark of love and hope in their eyes when they saw her.

Her note had worked.

Robb's gaze lingered on his sons, and a smile slowly spread across his face. "Morgana," he breathed, taking her hand in his. "You've done well. They're beautiful."

"They are our beautiful sons," she replied, her voice trembling with emotion. "And they will grow up to be strong and brave, just like their father." Catelyn approached them then, tears streaming down her face. "Oh, Morgana," she whispered, taking her daughter in law's hand. "It's so good to see you again." The three women embraced tightly, their shared grief and fear giving way to a moment of fragile happiness.

As they made their way through the city, Morgana couldn't help but feel a sense of hope beginning to blossom inside her. The streets of Volantis bustled with life, and the people seemed friendly and welcoming. They had survived the journey, and now they were ready to face whatever lay ahead. The dream she'd had about her spirit guide, Lyra, came back to her, and she knew that with their new allies, they would be able to reclaim what was theirs.

Their journey would not be an easy one, she knew. The Iron Throne still loomed large in their lives, and the vultures of the realm would surely circle them like sharks. But for now, she was content to enjoy the simple pleasure of being with her family. Robb had taken their sons, Eddard and Robert, in his arms, their giggles filling the air as they clung to their father's massive frame. Catelyn walked beside them, her hand resting protectively on Morgana's shoulder. They were a family again, and nothing could take that away from them.

As they approached their new home, a grand manor at the edge of the city, Morgana marveled at the intricate architecture and lush gardens. The manor had belonged to a friend Robb and Catelyn had made. It was a symbol of their new beginning, a place where they could start anew and rebuild their lives.

Servants and guards lined the path leading up to the manor, their faces alight with curiosity and respect. Ser Justin, Morgana's loyal guard, took the lead, his presence commanding attention and inspiring trust. As they entered the manor's grand hall, Morgana was struck by the warmth and beauty of the place. Sunlight streamed through stained-glass windows, casting dancing patterns across the polished marble floor. Tapestries adorned the walls, depicting tales of old Valyria and the dragons that once ruled the world.

Robb and Catelyn introduced her to the manor's servants, all of whom seemed to hold her in high regard. Amidst the introductions, Morgana's gaze kept drifting towards a mysterious servant in the shadows. There was something about the way she moved, the way she held herself... it was as if she was hiding a secret. Intrigued, Morgana decided to approach her.

"You're new here," the servant said before Morgana could even introduce herself. It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes," Morgana replied, "I have just returned from a... long journey."

The servant stepped out of the shadows, revealing herself to be a young woman of indeterminate age, her features marked by a strange, otherworldly beauty. Her eyes were the color of the sea under a stormy sky, and her hair flowed like liquid silver down her back. She wore the simple gray robes of a servant, but there was an air of authority about her that belied her humble attire.

"I am named Hela of the House Parr," she said, her voice soft but commanding. "And I have been watching you, Lady Morgana."

Morgana felt a shiver run down her spine. This woman knew more about her than she let on. "I am honored to meet you, Hela. I must admit, I'm curious as to why you've been watching me."

Hela inclined her head, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "I have seen in you what others do not. A greatness, a destiny. You are not like other women in this world, Lady Morgana. You are not meant to be just a wife or a mother. You are meant for something more."

Morgana felt a thrill of excitement run through her veins. She had alwys felt different, had alwys known there was something special about her. But she had nevr expected such words from a servant, let alone one as mysterious and alluring as Hela. "And what, pray tell, am I meant for?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Hela stepped closer, her eyes boring into Morgana's soul. "You are the key, Lady Morgana. The one who will bring balance to the Seven Kingdoms. An ancient prophecy foretold of your coming, of your power to unite the realm and guide it through the darkness. You will aid the Prince Who Was Promised."

Morgana felt a mixture of awe and fear wash over her. "But how?" she whispered. "And why me?"

Hela smiled gently, her silver hair shimmering in the light. "The prophecy is ancient and obscure, Lady Morgana. It speaks of a woman born under the sign of the dragon, with the blood of Old Valyria flowing through her veins. You are that woman." She paused, her gaze meeting Morgana's. "As for why you, I can only speculate. Perhaps it is your strength of will, your determination to carve out a place for yourself in a world that would see you as nothing more than a pretty bauble. Or perhaps it is your ability to see beyond the veil, to glimpse the truths that others cannot. Whatever the reason, you are now faced with a choice: to embrace your destiny, or to keep it hidden."

Morgana felt a weight settle into the pit of her stomach. She knew that the prophecy was real; she had felt it in her bones since she first set foot in the manor. But the responsibility that came with it was overwhelming. "And what of my husband?" she asked hesitantly. "What will he think of this?"

Hela's expression softened. "Your husband, King Robb, is a good man. He will understand the greater good that you serve. But he must be kept in the dark, at least for now. The fewer who know of your true purpose, the better. For the path you must walk is perilous, and there are those who would see you and your power fall into the wrong hands."

Morgana considered this, her mind racing. She thought of her husband, the father of her children, and knew that she could not betray his trust. Yet she also felt a burning desire to fulfill her destiny, to make a difference in the world.

Hela sensed her hesitation and reached out to take her hand. "The choice is yours, my lady. But know this: if you choose to embrace your destiny, I will be by your side. I will guide you, protect you, and help you see your vision through. For I believe in you, Morgana. I believe that you are the one who can unite this realm and lead it into a brighter future."

The warmth of Hela's touch, the sincerity in her voice, made Morgana's heart ache with a sudden longing. She wanted nothing more than to throw herself into this quest, to become the savior that Westeros so desperately needed. But at what cost? How could she possibly keep her husband and family safe, let alone her own sanity, if she were to take on such a burden?

She looked up at Hela, the servant who had become so much more, and saw the unwavering faith in her eyes. A faith that, if given even the slightest chance, could grow into something truly unbreakable. And in that moment, Morgana knew what she must do. She must embrace her destiny, no matter the cost, for the good of her people.

"I will do it," she said softly, her voice trembling with determination. "I will become the one who unites the Seven Kingdoms. I will bring balance to a world that has known nothing but chaos."

Hela's eyes filled with tears as she squeezed Morgana's hand. "Then it shall be so. Together, we shall change the course of history. But first, there are preparations to make. We must gather what we will need to face the challenges that lie ahead."

Morgana nodded, her heart racing with anticipation and fear. She knew that the path they were about to embark upon would not be an easy one. But she also felt a sense of purpose, a burning desire to make a difference in a world that had long since forgotten the true meaning of heroism.

Hela led her through the winding corridors of the manor, their footsteps echoing softly against the ancient stone. They passed by rooms filled with tapestries and ornate furniture, each piece bearing witness to the many years of wealth and power that the Pendragon dynasty had wielded. But Morgana's attention was elsewhere, fixed on the door at the end of the hall. It was carved from the same obsidian stone as the throne in the great hall, its runic symbols glowing with an ethereal light.

"This," Hela said, her voice hushed with reverence, "is where we will begin." She took a deep breath, steadying herself before rapping her knuckles against the obsidian door. A deep, booming voice responded from within, granting them entry.

The room within was lit by flickering candles and the warm glow of a fireplace. Rows upon rows of leather-bound books lined the walls, their spines embossed with runic symbols and gilded with gold and jewels. In the center of the room stood a massive obsidian altar, adorned with the skulls of long-dead dragons and other relics of a forgotten age.

Hela led Morgana deeper into the room, her footsteps echoing softly on the polished stone floor. "This is the archive," she whispered, her voice hushed with reverence. "It has been preserved for generations, guarded by those who understood the importance of its contents. It is here that we will find the knowledge we seek."

Morgana followed her guide, her eyes darting from book to book, each one more intricate than the last. The spines were made of rare woods, inlaid with gold and precious gems, and adorned with runic symbols that seemed to glow with an inner light. She ran her fingers over the cover of one particular tome, its leather soft and supple despite its age. The title, written in an ancient language she did not recognize, promised to reveal the secrets of dragonkind.

Hela, meanwhile, had made her way to the altar at the center of the room. There, she lit a sconce, casting a warm glow across the obsidian surface. "It is said that the knowledge contained within these books was imparted to us by the dragons themselves," she whispered, her voice full of awe. "That they shared their wisdom and power with the first men and women, in exchange for loyalty and protection."

Morgana followed her guide, drawn irresistibly to the ancient tomes that lay before her. She ran her fingers over the spines, feeling the weight of history in every creak of leather and rustle of parchment. As she turned a page, the ink seemed to dance before her eyes, its words glowing with an inner light. The knowledge within the books was vast and complex, covering everything from the history of dragons and their connection to magic, to the ancient rituals required to summon and bind them.

Hela, meanwhile, had been studying a map that showed the location of dragon lairs scattered across the land. "It is said that the dragons sleep deep beneath the earth, their power waiting to be unleashed," she whispered, her voice tinged with reverence. "And that in order to awaken them, we must first find the key: a dragon's egg, hidden in a place of great power."

Morgana's heart raced as she considered the implications of their discovery. She knew that if they were successful in reviving the dragons and restoring balance to the world, they would be remembered as heroes. But the task before them was fraught with danger. The lands they would have to traverse were treacherous, filled with creatures and beings both mortal and immortal who would stop at nothing to protect their own interests.

As they continued to study the archives, they also began to assemble the items they would need for their journey: a dragon's heartstone, carved from the obsidian heart of a slain dragon, which would allow them to communicate with the creatures they sought to summon; a set of obsidian daggers, crafted by Hela herself, capable of piercing even the toughest dragon scales; and a set of enchanted armor, fashioned from the hide of a dragon that had been slain during a previous expedition.

The night wore on, and with each passing moment, the weight of their task grew heavier. But Morgana and Hela remained resolute. They knew that they were the only ones who could fulfill the prophecy, and that the fate of the world rested in their hands. As they prepared to leave the sanctum, they took one last look around the archive, committing the knowledge they had gained to their hearts. They knew that they would need it on their journey, for the path ahead was fraught with danger and uncertainty.

As they emerged from the hidden entrance, they were greeted by the first rays of dawn, painting the sky a warm shade of pink and orange. The air was crisp and clean, filled with the song of birds and the rustle of leaves. It was a beautiful day, and yet Morgana could not shake the sense of foreboding that had settled over her.

She was greeted by the sight of her husband, Robb, who wore a confused expression on his face.

Robb took her hand in his, leading her back to their simple home. The children, still asleep, were nestled together in a heap of blankets, their small faces flushed from the warmth of the fire. His mother was nowhere to be seen, but Morgana knew that she would be tending to the garden, as she did every morning.

They sat down together at the rough-hewn table, the sunlight streaming through the open window, casting a golden glow over their small, but cozy abode. As Robb poured her a cup of steaming tea, he studied her face, his brow furrowed with concern.

"Are you alright, my love?" he asked softly, his voice gentle. "You seemed... distant."

Morgana took a deep breath, forcing herself to meet his gaze. "I'm just tired," she lied, forcing a smile. "I've been reading too late again." It was easier to pretend that the weight of her mission didn't exist than to burden him with the truth.

She sipped at her tea, savoring the warmth as it spread through her body. Robb watched her closely, his eyes filled with concern. "If you need to talk about it," he said softly, "you know I'm here for you."

Morgana forced a smile, not wanting to burden him with the truth. "It's just... I feel like something's missing," she said, trying to find the words. "Like there's something more out there for me."

Her husband's expression softened, and he reached across the table to take her hand. "I understand," he said gently. "Sometimes, being a mother and a wife can feel... limiting. But know that you are loved, and that your role here is important. You are the heart of this family."

The warmth in his voice brought tears to her eyes, and she leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his hand. "I do know that," she whispered. "I am grateful for our life together, and for the children we've been given. It's just..." She trailed off, searching for the words to explain the ache inside her.

Robb squeezed her hand gently. "It's okay to feel restless sometimes," he said, his voice understanding. "Perhaps it's just a phase, a part of growing into the role of motherhood." He paused, considering her. "Or maybe it's something deeper. Something we need to explore together."

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of rustling leaves and the arrival of Morgana's mother-in-law, carrying a basket of fresh vegetables from the garden. The older woman's face lit up when she saw them sitting together. "Good morning, my dears," she said, setting the basket down on the table. "I see you're enjoying your tea."

Morgana forced a smile, trying to shake off the haze that still lingered in her mind. "Yes, Mother," she said, standing up to help her mother-in-law with the vegetables. "I'm just a bit tired today."

As they worked side by side in the kitchen, preparing a hearty stew for lunch, Morgana felt a sense of peace begin to wash over her. The rhythmic chopping of vegetables and the warmth of the fire provided a grounding presence that helped to soothe her restlessness.

Robb, ever attentive, kept glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, his expression a mix of concern and love. She could tell that he sensed something was amiss, but for now, she wanted to enjoy this moment with her family.

As the stew simmered on the fire, they all sat down to eat, laughing and talking about the day's plans. Their conversation meandered effortlessly, touching upon the joys and challenges of raising young children, the latest news from the village, and even the occasional bit of gossip. Morgana found herself laughing more than she had in days, and the weight on her heart began to lift.

After lunch, they retired to the garden, where Morgana helped her mother-in-law tend to the flowers while Robb played with the children. The scent of the blossoms filled the air, and the warmth of the sun on her skin brought a sense of peace that she hadn't felt in weeks. As she pulled weeds and pruned branches, she allowed herself to be swept away by the simple beauty of the moment.

Her husband's laughter floated over to her from where he sat on the grass, watching their children tumble and roll in the grass. The sound was like music, and it brought a smile to her face. She glanced at him, studying the lines on his face that spoke of love and devotion, and felt a wave of gratitude wash over her. Yes, this life might not be what she had alwys dreamed of, but it was hers, and it was filled with beauty and love.