Chapter Twenty-One: Queens of Ice and Fire

A/N: *basks in the awesomeness of my reviewers* Hey guys! Did I mention how amazing you all are? I've got 250 reviews, over 230 favourites and over 430 follows. I just...wow. I honestly never imagined I'd get such great feedback, and I'm really happy you're all enjoying Mella's story.

I have a lot planned for Mella and Robb, not to mention their allies and enemies. So without further ado, 21 chapters into the story, I give you...Daenerys Targaryen!

Please do review, you have all been so amazing and I'm grateful for every review that I receive.

Cersei paced her rooms with growing agitation, as Tyrion watched her in silence. She was playing nervously with her hands, and he could tell that the raven had deeply unsettled her. The news had hardly shocked Tyrion – he had seen it coming for quite some time. But Cersei was a mother lion wanting to protect her cubs, from enemies, from her own secrets. The only problem, it seemed, was that Mella was far more a stag than she was a lion, too much Baratheon to be considered a Lannister.

There was also the problem that both Tyrion and Cersei knew that all of Cersei's other children were in fact not stags at all. They had been fathered by Jaime, and so they had an illegitimate King on the throne – something Cersei knew too well by the trepidation that shone in her emerald green eyes. Now that Mella had wed Robb Stark, Tyrion had no doubt that the two would be very busy attempting to conceive a child. Somewhere in the dangerous combination of young lust and great responsibility, an heir would be put into Mella's belly, and the daughter Robert had cherished would carry a grandson of Stark blood. He would have been proud, but Cersei was alarmed.

"What happens if people accept that the rumours are true, and Joffrey is not legitimate?" Tyrion questioned, earning the livid gaze of his older sister. Perhaps Cersei expected to be comforted, that Tyrion would say he had some sort of plan. He didn't, and he didn't have power in any case, not with Tywin as the Hand of the King now. Yet Tyrion felt that his place in the world was to pass the harsh truths that others didn't want to hear, because flattery had little effect coming from a stunted creature such as himself.

"Don't be a fool," Cersei snapped, but it was clear that she feared as much herself. If Joffrey was deposed and Mella put on the throne in his place, that would make Robb Stark the King of Westeros – and she feared that more than anything, because then he could enact his terrible justice. She would be put to death for Ned's execution, they both knew it. No pleas that it was Joffrey who had given the order would save her head. After Robb…it would be some dark-haired little brat with none of her Lannister looks nor personality that would inherit the throne. A child of insufferable honour and constant booming voice, no doubt.

"For the love of the Seven, can you stop pretending for a few minutes, woman?" Tyrion's impatient voice cut through Cersei's frantic train of thought, causing her head to snap in his direction once again. "Both you and I know that those children are Jaime's, whether you like to admit it or not. Mella is the rightful heir to the throne, there can be no denying that. Perhaps if you had accepted that instead of putting Joffrey there where he doesn't belong, you wouldn't have driven her straight into Robb Stark's arms…"

"Stop it," Cersei spat, stalking over towards him. She could not, would not, believe that it had been her actions that had driven her eldest away. Mella was a love-struck young girl, as besotted with Robb as Cersei had once been with Rhaegar Targaryen. But she was bound to have her heart broken sooner or later by the young man she now called husband. Perhaps it would be when he took another woman to bed during her pregnancy. Or perhaps it would be when he refused to spare any of her family out of his foolish desire for vengeance.

Tyrion watched his sister warily, but he did not need to utter another word. His previous ones had caused the seed of doubt to be planted within Cersei's mind. She liked to think him of little worth, but perhaps Cersei needed him more than she would admit. As ugly and stunted as he was, it might be his quick wit that could save them the wrath of Robb Stark. Mella had been wronged as well, but the Lannisters were family to her. If either of those two were bound to listen, it would certainly be her.

"You are bitter, so bitter." She laughed mirthlessly, sinking into a chair without realising the irony of her words. Her own daughter had turned against her and might even go to war with Robb Stark to remove Joffrey from the throne. She had always known that there would be a price that must be paid for the sins of the past, but she had never dreamed that the price would have been losing her firstborn to the Starks.

"I think you are bitter about seeing your daughter married to Robb," Tyrion pointed out. It was a truth that not even Cersei could find a way to deny. They would feel the livid heat of Robb Stark's vengeance, especially if Mella managed to successfully lay claim to the iron throne. The Baratheon words were 'ours is the fury', and Tyrion thought the fury was certainly Mella's.

"Robb," Mella gasped out his name, clutching at his shoulders as he continued to thrust into her. Both of them were covered in a thin sheen of sweat, but this was hardly an uncommon occurrence. Since their wedding, both young adults had agreed that it was a wise decision to try for a child as often as possible – which was normally once a day, twice if Robb wasn't too preoccupied.

Robb groaned as his wife's nails raked down his back, a frequent habit of hers which meant he had to wear a shirt at all times in public or else risk teasing. He spread her legs further apart, moving deeper inside her and causing her moans to increase in volume. Mella's fingers buried in his thick curls, tugging hard as her head fell back and she surrendered to the bliss she was feeling. The first few times had been uncomfortable, but a month into their marriage, Mella felt nothing but pleasure when she and Robb made love.

Her moans escalated into cries of pleasure as Robb's thrusts became harder and more erratic as he drew closer to his climax. Driven by the noise his wife was making, Robb grunted as he finished, spilling his seed inside her. He collapsed atop Mella, and she smiled and stroked his sweat-lank hair back from his face. Robb kissed her cheek and rolled off her, still coming down from the high of making love.

Mella shifted herself under the warm furs, running her fingers through her dark hair to neaten it, as if someone who entered the tent would not already be able to tell what she and Robb had been doing. He watched her with slight amusement. After a few moments Mella gave up her attempts, collapsing against him and resting her head on his chest. Robb wrapped his arms around her and drew her close and she looked up at him.

"Soon, my love. Soon, we will have a son."

"I have no doubt about that." Robb pressed a hand to Mella's flat stomach. Perhaps even now she carried his child within her. It seemed astounding to him, that they could create something that amazing together in an act of passion. By now, most of the seven kingdoms would know about their marriage. The next step now was for Mella to become with child – although, even though that would be their triumph, it would also be their danger. They had opponents who would stop at nothing to ensure that the Baratheon line did not mix with the Starks.

It was almost frightening, the power that they now held. They hadn't realised it before, but as one they were more powerful than they could ever have been as two separate entities. If Mella gained the throne, Robb would be her King – something he did not crave like other men, but it would certainly be a welcome position if it gave him the ability to dispose of his enemies. Not to mention he would have Mella by his side, and she seemed as though she knew what she was doing. At least, she had brought with her the troops who had once belonged to Renly and Stannis.

Catelyn was pleased about their marriage too – she approved of Mella, and hoped that the union would result in victory for the men who had fought so tirelessly for the Stark cause. Robb watched as Mella sat up and grabbed her dress, shivering due to the winter chill. He was more used to it than she was, but it was beginning to grow cold even for his liking. Mella swept her black hair over her shoulders and laced up the dress as her husband watched with lazy satisfaction from beneath the furs.

"When do you next go into battle?" she asked with quiet determination. Despite their union, there were still enemies all around them. Aegon and Stannis had fled for now, but Mella had no doubt they would be back – and was uncertain if her uncle would keep his promise. Then there were the Greyjoys, and the Lannisters themselves. They still had many battles to fight yet.

"Soon, I believe." Robb stretched out. He knew that battle was inevitable, as were the losses that war would bring. But at this moment, he was perfectly content to relax in his tent with his beautiful wife and forget all about the troubles of war.

In truth, Stannis had never been to Highgarden before. It had never appealed to him – a place of flowery beauty that was a far cry from his home of Dragonstone. Yet as Melisandre had stated, he needed allies. Although the Tyrells were winning favour in King's Landing, Stannis knew that men could have alternate agendas. After all, had the Tyrells not once supported his younger brother Renly? Stannis did not trust Mace Tyrell, but he did not need to. All he needed was the military support.

His own men were in Robb Stark's camp, where his foolish niece had seen fit to marry the green boy. She would likely have a child in her soon, perhaps a boy. It made Stannis slightly envious, for he only had a daughter. He had no son of his own, so he didn't think it was fair if Mella was granted a boy. He paced the room he had been allocated, eyes taking in the vibrant gardens of Highgarden. Stannis had always been a man who valued functionality over beauty, which of course was why Highgarden was not the sort of place he could fully appreciate.

"Your Grace."

Melisandre entered Stannis's rooms, red hair flowing like flames behind her. She had unnerved Mace Tyrell, and many other courtiers in the soon too. That had not surprised Stannis, and neither had Lord Tyrell's disapproval of him forsaking the Faith of the Seven for the Lord of Light. Yet Stannis could not expect the man to understand. Mace Tyrell seemed to be a fool in any case, but while he might have nervously agree to be their host, Stannis knew he might take some talking to in order to form an alliance – especially as Stannis was already married and the only child he had to offer in matrimony to any of Mace's sons was a young girl with greyscale.

"Any word from Davos?" Stannis inquired.

Melisandre's brow furrowed. "I'm sorry, but I believe Davos and your men have deserted you, my King. They have even consented to join in an alliance with the Starks. Do you think they serve you truly now?"

Stannis wasn't quite sure what to think. His men could well have believed him to have died in the fire at Storm's End. He knew that Renly's men were not expected to be loyal, considering the fact that they had joined him out of desperation rather than true faith. But his own men…was Melisandre right? Had they abandoned him, too?

"So I am to make an alliance with Mace Tyrell, is that it?"

"It is your wisest option," Melisandre advised. Her words were smooth as silk, as always. However Stannis was beginning to have flickers of doubt. Melisandre always promised victory, yet he was only suffering defeats. He could find no reason for Melisandre to steer him towards the Tyrells, yet he did see the benefit in making him doubt Davos. If he trusted her alone…Stannis knew that he had to be careful. He could not afford to fully put his faith in anyone anymore, not even Melisandre.

Mella watched the sun rise over the hills, giving light to the pale dawn. It was bitterly cold in the north, something she remembered from Winterfell. However it seemed to her that the weather was growing even colder, if that was even possible. Perhaps she just missed the heat of the south. She shook away the thought. She could not afford to miss King's Landing. One day she would be there again, sitting on the iron throne with Robb by her side. But when that day would come, only the gods knew.

"Are you well, your Grace?"

Davos Seaworth approached, and Mella glanced at him. Had he called her that before, or had it been Lady Baratheon? Sometimes it was hard to forget her name when people called her so many different ones. Mella smiled and patted the spot beside her, but Davos was not so familiar and remained standing, staring out into the sunrise. He had lost his son during the Battle of Blackwater, Mella remembered. She pitied him. No parent should have to bury their child.

"Do you think that Stannis would keep his word, if he did survive?" Mella asked quietly. If there was one person who understood her uncle, it was Davos. She knew that Stannis was an honourable man, but he had Melisandre whispering poison in his ear. If there was anything that could change a man's mind, it was a woman. Mella wanted to believe that if her uncle was alive, he would be content with being Hand of the King. But something told her that the red witch would not be content with that.

"I know that Renly's men would side with you over Stannis," Davos admitted gravely, surprising Mella. She had not expected that any army would choose a woman over a man, but she had heard the whispers about Daenerys Targaryen in the east. Perhaps women were capable of holding authority too. It made her feel invigorated. Mella had power, she just needed to wield it responsibly.

Mella pushed herself to her feet, but a sudden dizzy feeling came over her and everything spun in a blur of colours. Her knees buckled and the ground seemed to slip out from underneath her. She felt strong arms grip her shoulders and realised that Davos had stepped forward and was holding her upright. There was concern in his eyes, and Mella was suddenly afraid. Why did she feel so weak? Why were her legs shaking?

"I believe I don't feel so well," Mella mumbled, sucking in a deep breath of cool morning air.

"We should get a Maester to see to you," Davos stated. He seemed uncomfortable with getting too close, but kept a firm hold on Mella's arm in case her feet decided to give out from underneath her. The dizzy feeling swooped in on her again like a bird of prey, and Mella stopped momentarily and screwed her eyes shut, blocking it out. What was wrong with her?

"How is it that I have heard so little of Mella Baratheon if she is a threat to me?"

Daenerys Targaryen's tone was cold as her violet eyes raked over her advisers. Jorah Mormont had averted his gaze, but Barristan Selmy met her gaze evenly. She knew that as former Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, he would have known Mella better than most. The whispers had just started to reach Daenerys now, of the marriage between Mella and the supposed King in the North, Robb Stark. She knew that the girl was the only legitimate child of Robert and Cersei, and was of an age with Daenerys herself. There could be no doubting that Mella was a threat considering what Daenerys had been told about her.

"There was little to say before, your Grace." Barristan remarked. He remembered Mella vividly – a dark-haired young girl full of spirit, but whose spirit was stifled by her overbearing mother and by the expectations of the court. Yet the fact that she had risen to prove that she was an authoritative and passionate young woman was little surprise. "Before Mella had no army, no men to do her bidding. Now it appears that her forces are those of Stannis and Renly combined, not to mention she now has an alliance with the Starks…"

Daenerys could not help but seethe. Perhaps it was her own fault, for not going to claim Westeros earlier. Yet this Baratheon girl could have all the armies she wanted – it was Daenerys's dragons that would make all the difference. That being said, Daenerys was perfectly aware that she would need an army of her own if she was to conquer Westeros. Yet there had been other rumours, ones that were to her advantage.

"What about Aegon Targaryen? If the young man masquerading behind his name is truly my nephew."

Jorah brightened considerably. "There is good news, your Grace. Your nephew had conquered several castles when he took Westeros. His current location isn't known, but how hard can it be to find a Targaryen boy and an army of 10,000? You are his aunt, I have no doubt that he would form an alliance with you."

Daenerys considered this carefully. Perhaps her time in Essos was well and truly done. It seemed that she had both great enemies and great allies in Westeros, and it sounded as though it was time for her to come home. A small smile spread across her lips. She would find this Baratheon girl, and she would crush her. A little doe was no match for a dragon. They called it a War of Kings, but there was no doubt in Daenerys's mind that the true battle was one between the Queens.

You will burn, Mella Baratheon.