THE NIGHT QUEEN'S RETURN: FURY OF RAENAR TARGERYAN

3:ARYA'S ARRIVAL

"Mom, why are we staying in this cold cave? Why don’t we move to the villages?" asked young Raenar, his voice echoing slightly against the icy walls.

The Night Queen, Daenerys, turned to her son, her eyes glowing faintly blue in the dim light. "Men are dangerous, my son. For now, we must stay here, in the safety of the cold and with Drogon by our side." She paused, her tone softening as she stroked her son’s hair. "Do you remember what they did to your mother and father?"

Raenar’s face hardened, his blue eyes narrowing in defiance. "No, Mom. I haven't forgotten. I will get your throne back, I promise. And I will find Dad and ask him why he stabbed you." His voice was filled with a mixture of determination and longing.

Then he came to, Raenar’s gaze drifted northward. From the edge of the forest, he could see the distant silhouette of Winterfell. His mind raced with visions of its destruction, fantasizing about the day he would bring it to ruin. As his thoughts darkened, he faded into the mist, vanishing from sight.

---

Inside the halls of Winterfell, Sansa Stark stood near the window, gazing out at the snow-covered landscape. Though the years had added a few wrinkles and streaks of grey to her once fiery red hair, her beauty and commanding presence remained undiminished. She had never married, the weight of ruling the North too great a burden to share. Instead, she had taken in two boys from her mother's family, the Tullys, to raise as her wards.

"The reports of Raenar’s attack have reached us," said Maester Lockheart, his voice laced with worry as he placed the message scroll on the table. "We must be prepared for him."

Sansa sighed deeply, her face tight with concern. "What I did all those years ago... it’s coming back to haunt me now," she murmured, her voice heavy with regret. "Even if I surrender, his mother—Daenerys—will not forgive me. I took her birthright with my cunning. She’ll never forget that."

The maester nodded solemnly. "It’s possible. But Arya is returning. She might be our only hope."

---

Arya Stark arrived on the northern shores after many years away. She had sailed far and wide, fulfilling her insatiable thirst for adventure. But when she heard the news of Raenar’s attack on the North, she had returned, accompanied by her husband, Gendry.

As they disembarked, Gendry couldn’t help but ask, "Are you really going to join him? Raenar? The same boy threatening Winterfell?" His tone was incredulous, filled with disbelief.

Arya’s eyes flashed with a familiar defiance. "Yes, Gendry. I am. What they did to my brother Jon was unfair. That’s why I left in the first place. I couldn’t stand to see their faces after what happened."

Gendry looked shocked. "What? Are you serious? If you support Raenar, you’ll be standing against your own family—your own blood. That means you’ll have to fight against Sansa, Bran, everyone."

Arya sighed heavily, her expression softening for a moment. "I know," she said quietly, "but I’m doing this for Jon. He’s my favorite, Gendry. Always has been. I’m not turning back now."

Gendry was left speechless, his mouth open in disbelief as Arya walked away toward the looming mountains of the North.

---

Far away, just outside Winterfell, Raenar Targaryen had gathered his army. The northern winds blew fiercely, but his men—both freefolk and northern rebels—stood ready. Some houses had already pledged allegiance to him, unhappy with Sansa’s rule. Others, seeking new leadership or a chance for revenge, had also joined his cause. His forces had swelled beyond anyone’s expectations.

Standing before his army, Raenar’s tall, lean figure cut an imposing figure against the snowy landscape. His silver and black hair, a symbol of the union between the Stark and Targaryen bloodlines, blew in the cold wind.

He raised his hand, and his army fell silent. His blue eyes burned with intensity as he addressed them.

"We march on Winterfell!" Raenar declared, his voice ringing out over the crowd. "Today, you will all witness my first victory. Today, we take the North! Together, we will claim what is rightfully mine."

The army roared with approval, their voices echoing into the frozen sky. "Let’s wreck havoc in the North!" Raenar shouted.

The men, both mad with battle lust and ambition, screamed in unison, eager for the bloodshed to come.