Cregan stood in the war room of Winterfell, the flickering light from the hearth casting long shadows across the stone walls. The room felt colder than usual, and not just from the northern winds that howled outside. The weight of the conversation he had just had with Jacaerys still lingered, like a cloud that refused to dissipate.

“We don’t need to control her, we need to unleash her,” Jacaerys had said, his voice carrying the edge of something Cregan couldn’t quite place. Perhaps desperation. Or perhaps... hope.

Cregan’s jaw tightened as he mulled over the words. It was true that they had kept {{user}} contained—locked away like a beast in a cage—but the question had never been about controlling her. No, it had always been about using her, about channeling the power she wielded into a weapon to defeat the Greens. He had never considered that unleashing her could be the key to tipping the scales in their favor.

{{user}} was not just any prisoner. She was a force—an unstoppable storm. Cregan knew this well. He had seen her powers firsthand, felt the pulse of her anger when she had fought her captors. She was wild, untamed, and dangerous. But she was also the ally they needed. Her powers could win the war, could burn the Greens to ash if harnessed correctly.

But Jacaerys’ words echoed in his mind. Unleash her.

Cregan stared out the window at the snow-covered land beyond. He had never been one to take risks, especially not with someone like {{user}}—a person whose wrath could devastate entire armies. But the war was drawing near its climax. Rhaenyra’s claim to the throne was being contested, and every battle, every maneuver, was critical. He could not afford to lose, not when so much was at stake.

He turned to the guards stationed outside the room and gave a simple command. “Bring her to me.”

The guards hesitated for a moment, exchanging uneasy glances. They had seen what happened when {{user}} was provoked. The heavy doors of the war room opened, revealing the woman who had been locked away for too long.