THE NIGHT QUEEN'S RETURN: FURY OF RAENAR TARGERYAN

5:WAR FOR WINTERFELL

A massive boulder crashed into the outer wall of Winterfell, shaking the fortress. A giant picked up another boulder, hurling it like a mere pebble. Winterfell’s soldiers scattered like ants, shouting in panic as chaos spread among the people. Despite the mayhem, they quickly regrouped and began shooting arrows accurately at Raenar’s men. Many of his forces fell in the onslaught.

Raenar, seeing his warriors faltering, signaled for the mammoths—huge, woolly beasts that thundered across the battlefield towards the guard wall. They rammed into the walls with terrifying force, but the walls stood firm, indestructible. Five or six of the beasts slammed into the structure repeatedly as soldiers fired arrows, but the arrows barely penetrated their thick hides. Finally, after several more devastating impacts, the walls began to crumble.

With the breach opened, the freefolk swarmed through like ants, only to be met by Winterfell’s knights. Unlike the freefolk, the knights were well-trained and better equipped, cutting through Raenar’s forces with brutal efficiency, their swords slicing through flesh like knives through butter.

Raenar's fury grew. He ordered his catapults to be loaded—not with rocks, but with giants. As they were launched into Winterfell, the giants crashed down, demolishing buildings and wreaking havoc across the city. Watching the devastation, Sansa remained calm and composed, ordering, "Bring the wildfire—the potent green liquid—and the scorpion crossbows. I knew we'd need them, which is why I had Bran create these weapons and store them secretly."

The soldiers loaded the scorpions and began firing at the giants. One bolt struck a giant straight through the heart, sending it crashing to the ground. Two more giants fell, along with several mammoths. Raenar signaled for his large creatures to fall back, realizing the danger. With a small group of men, he moved to the rear of Winterfell, hoping for a surprise attack. As they approached the back gate, it suddenly opened. Soldiers threw barrels of wildfire, and the liquid erupted into a massive explosion of green fire.

Raenar yelled for his men to retreat, but many were too slow. The wildfire consumed them in an instant. Yet, as the smoke cleared, Raenar emerged—scarred, his hair and skin partially burned, but standing tall, his fiery blue eyes blazing with rage. He charged towards the operators, cutting them down mercilessly, his wrath uncontainable.

On the other side of the battle, Raenar’s forces were being overrun. Winterfell’s soldiers, better trained and better equipped, were steadily winning. Sansa watched the battlefield with cautious optimism. "He’s losing. His forces are scattering. Try to capture him alive—I don’t want to kill him unnecessarily."

After his brutal rampage, Raenar stood amidst the carnage, panting heavily. One of his men, barely alive, whispered, "We’re lost."

Raenar’s face twisted in defiance. "I didn’t come all this way to lose. As I said, I have a surprise."

Winterfell’s soldiers were beginning to relax, thinking victory was within their grasp, when a loud, thunderous clap echoed across the battlefield. Suddenly, from the sky, three dragons appeared, each with icy breath instead of fire, led by none other than Daenerys herself. She had returned, her eyes glowing like blue diamonds, and her dragons unleashed devastating ice beams, freezing everything in their path.

Raenar looked up at the sky with pride. "My mother," he said softly, as Daenerys descended, raining death and destruction upon Winterfell.

Sansa’s heart froze. Memories of the last time she saw Daenerys—the fiery devastation, the madness—rushed back. This time, the dragons were impervious to the scorpion crossbows. The bolts bounced harmlessly off their frozen scales.

Maester Lockheart rushed to Sansa’s side. "Your Grace, you must escape now! Use the secret passage and flee to King’s Landing. Ask your brother Bran for aid."

Sansa shook her head, her voice trembling. "How can I leave? How can I abandon my people to this madness?"

Lockheart grabbed her arm firmly. "Live today so you can fight tomorrow, my Queen. You are Winterfell’s last hope. Guards, take her to the crypts and ensure her safe passage to King’s Landing."

With great reluctance, Sansa allowed herself to be led away. Tears welled in her eyes as she glanced back one last time, watching Winterfell, her home, fall to Raenar and the resurrected Night Queen’s mercy.