Chapter Twenty-Nine: Frost and Flame


A/N: So I'm hoping this chapter isn't too confusing for you all. We're definitely headed for the end, with only two chapters left after this one. I've got a lot planned for those two chapters ;) Enjoy and as always, let me know what you think!


Robb hadn't believed her at first. As much as he loved her and trusted her, Mella knew that her claim was incredulous. With mere days until his departure, hearing of something as absurd as an ice dragon was clearly difficult. He had not wanted to say that he didn't believe her, but she knew that he hadn't. A few days ago, she would not have believed her, either. Yet she had seen the creature with her own eyes, and there could be no mistaking what it was.

Mella's breath fogged out in front of her as she trekked through the mountainous terrain with Robb, Davos, and the Greatjon. She had wanted as few witnesses as possible. It was not something she wished to spread to cause terror or panic. She just needed enough people to accompany her so that they could see her story was true. But now, her muscles aching as she tried to remember the path the shadowcat had taken, Mella was not so certain. What if she had lost her mind? What if it was not real?

"We're getting a fair distance from the Eyrie, your Grace," the Greatjon called. While he did not say it outright, Mella could tell that he was uncomfortable with this trek. Neither he nor Davos had been told exactly why they were trekking out into the mountains, aside from that it was something very important. All these people she had following her…Mella was afraid, so afraid that she would let them down. Robb had bigger issues to worry about, but she had not thought before she had told him about the ice dragon.

"We're almost there," Mella said over her shoulder, as they moved through the small passageways that led to the huge cavern she had entered in her dream. Licking her dry lips, she prayed to the Seven that it had not been a mere dream. If it was, she didn't know how she would be expected to live it down. Yet she preserved, because for some reason the ice dragon brought her hope. Hope for an end to the war, hope for Robb. She did not know why.

When Mella entered the cavern, the ice dragon was right there, and it was looking right at them. She stopped in her tracks, flinging out an arm to prevent Robb from getting any closer. Behind them, she heard a sharp intake of breath from Davos, and the Greatjon's muttered curse. Slowly, Robb turned to look at his wife with incredulous eyes. She couldn't help but offer him a tight smile.

"It won't hurt us," Mella stated, more confidently than she felt. The chains were rusted and most likely ancient. There was no telling if the creature could break free if it was aggravated. Swallowing back the fear that threatened to consume her, she slowly made her way towards the ice dragon. It watched her with mild interest.

"Mella," Robb called, his brow furrowed in concern. She turned to glance at him, before reaching out a shaking hand to touch the creature. It barely moved, except for its eyes snapping shut as her hand made contact with the scales. Mella yelped as ice-cold pain surged through her, jerking her hand away.

Robb was beside her in an instant, catching her around the waist and inspecting her hand. She had thought the creature would be startled by the sudden movement, but the ice dragon simply looked down at them almost boredly. Mella frowned as she inspected her raw, red fingers. The creature's scales were just too cold to the touch.

"Are you alright?" Robb asked.

"I'm fine," Mella assured him, "The scales are just freezing."

Robb released his wife, examining the beast before him with wonder in his eyes. Davos and the Greatjon appeared not to want to come any closer, although Mella could hardly blame them. She bit her lip hard to fight back a protest as Robb reached for the scales – yet when he placed his hand against the dragon's scales, there was nothing in his face to suggest that he felt the same intense icy pain that she had.

"Don't you feel it?" she inquired.

"No." Robb looked puzzled, shaking his head and drawing his hand back slowly. "I mean, they're certainly cold, but…it didn't hurt me."

Mella examined her husband with growing awe, looked at his perfectly untouched fingers and then her own reddened ones. The shadowcat, the ice dragon…she had been a part of it, but she was not the solution. The ice dragon was not meant for her, but for Robb. A child of the ice, of Winterfell. This dragon would be his salvation, a match for Dany's. She knew she had been right to have hope.


Mella watched from the window as Robb's army departed the Vale, Willem swaddled in blankets in her arms. She peered down at her son and heir, the tiny child that she and Robb had created out of love. He was a sweet boy, and she felt that he was growing fast despite the fact that he was still so very young. She smiled and planted a kiss atop his soft head, before gently settling him back in his cot.

There were matters that needed to be attended to despite Robb's absence. One of them in particular was Baelish's betrayal. Mella's Baratheon blood boiled every time she thought about it. His crime would not go unpunished, she would see to that. While Robb may have a merciful heart, Mella had the temperament of her father before her. She would see to it that justice was served.

"Your Grace, several dozen of your uncle Stannis's men have joined us here at the Eyrie." Davos hurried to fall into step beside the young Queen. She was grateful for his presence, knowing that he served more purpose here beside her than on the battlefield.

"Here?" Mella glanced at him, frowning. "What use would they be here? They should join my husband in the battle for King's Landing, surely."

"They intend to." Davos followed Mella into the hall, where she stopped dead in her tracks. "But they have brought you something first."

Mella's eyes widened as she realised what Davos meant. The men dressed in her uncle Stannis's colours bowed as she entered. Before them was a huge box, that Mella herself could no doubt fit inside. She recognised the box from her childhood, the ornate carvings and the tales of the object inside it. Hurrying over, her entire face lit up with wonder and her eager fingers reached inside to trace over the cool metal of her father's war hammer. Robert Baratheon's legacy.

"Why did you bring me this?" Mella inquired, looking up from the treasure before her to the men would have carried it to the Eyrie. She was indeed grateful to be gifted something that had been so precious to her father, yet still she did not understand.

"You are the last Baratheon and the daughter of King Robert, your Grace." The leader of the men bowed his head respectfully. "As both of your uncles have also passed on, and we heard of the birth of your son, we saw fit to bring the hammer to you. Perhaps one day, little Willem will wield it in battle."

I hope he never needs to. Mella swallowed and stared down at the war hammer. If she had been born a male, they would be bringing this gift to her, not her son. If she had been born a male, there would be no controversy over her claim to the throne, and she would surely be sitting on it now. That realisation, the knowledge that it was her gender that bound her, made Mella's hands clench into fists of rage. How unfair that being a woman meant she was restricted. Yet she intended to show her family, show Westeros, that the daughter of Robert Baratheon held as much mettle in her as any son.

Her fingers wrapped around the hilt of the hammer and she yearned to be able to lift it. Yet she knew she couldn't and that she would only turn herself into a laughing stock if she tried. Bitter tears sprang to her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away. What a fool she was being, all because this hammer taunted her with what she was not. Taking a deep breath, she turned to Davos.

"Bring in Petyr Baelish."


"Your Grace, I urge you to be reasonable." Lord Baelish stood before the Queen, amidst the mocking and jeering of her court. Mella sat in the chair that had once belonged to Lysa Arryn, resting her chin in her hand as she listened to him speak. That was what Petyr had always been good at, weaving tales and singing songs to worm his way out of situations. But he had gone too far this time.

"I would not consider the attempted abduction of a newborn 'reasonable', Lord Baelish." Her voice was cold and hard. She was not a young girl whose will could be swayed by honeyed words. She was a leader in her own right, and she would prove today that despite Robb being her equal, she did not need to look to him to make decisions. "Do you have anything to say about why you did it?"

"You truly believe Maester Nolan's words?" Petyr raised his eyebrows, but Mella slammed her fist down on the arm of the chair. She did not have the patience to listen to his lies, to him blaming other people.

"Enough, Baelish. You will confess to the crime."

"How like your lady mother you are." There was no doubting that his tone was mocking now, his grey eyes glittering with mirth as he inspected her. Mella's jaw clenched at the comparison – as he had intended, no doubt. "She possesses that same lack of mercy, the same fire that you have…you may look like your father, Lady Stark, but you are your mother's daughter through and through."

"Lady Stark?" Mella pushed herself to her feet, skirts swirling around her feet as she raised her chin. "Lady Stark? I am your Queen!"

"You lay claim to the throne, as do many others." Petyr shrugged his shoulders. "That does not make you my Queen."

"Enough." Mella waved a hand to cut him off. She had spent most of her life listening to Petyr's flattery of her mother, her father, anyone he wished to curry favour with. She had no time for such nonsense, and his attempt to take her son away from her left her with little thought for mercy in this case. "Open the Moon Door."

She felt a sense of satisfaction as the smug look left Petyr's face, his brows furrowing in confusion. Mella folded her arms over her chest and said nothing as the Moon Door was opened, the cold breeze rushing through and making her court shiver. Petyr was prodded forward until he stood at the very edge, the yawning abyss right before him. He had gone pale, yet still said nothing.

"I don't expect any confessions from you." Mella descended the stairs, her eyes glued to Petyr. "I don't even expect attempts to plea for your life. If there is anything I have learned, it is that you are thoroughly unpredictable, and loyal to the highest bidder. But I suppose there is no one left, is there? Not here and now."

She walked over and peered down at the cold abyss below, before her gaze landed back on Petyr. His eyes had widened and he looked shocked. Perhaps Petyr Baelish had not anticipated this.

"Let him fly."

It took only a single threatening prod from one of the guards. Petyr shifted forward and fell through the Moon Door with a high, thin scream. It echoed around the silent hall as he plummeted downwards. When Mella looked up to the balcony, she met Catelyn's eyes. The older woman pressed her lips together, and inclined her head. Beside her, Sansa's blue gaze was still fixated on the spot where Petyr had been only moments before.

Mella's shoulders slumped with relief. She had not been able to trust Petyr, yet she had never before had reason to cast him aside. She did not relish his death, nor did she feel guilt over it. Baelish had been responsible for too much of the underhanded game-playing in her father's court for her to be comfortable with him living.


"Robb Stark."

Daenerys Targaryen stood proud in front of the King in the North, her chin lifted as she inspected him with something like disdain. Robb and his men were spattered with blood, and it was evident that it had been quite the struggle for them to get this far. Daenerys, on the contrary, looked untarnished.

"I expected to see your wife alongside you. But I suppose not. She is a coward like her father before her."

"Mella's war is not fought with the sword," Robb snapped in retort, his eyes narrowing at the Targaryen girl's insult. "If we are talking about fathers, perhaps you would do well to remember what they said about yours before you draw comparisons."

That struck a nerve, but Daenerys clenched her jaw, her posture tensing. Behind her, Rhaegal – her last surviving dragon – hissed and bared his teeth threatening. Robb's gaze flicked to him, wary, but he did not look frightened. Without her dragons, Daenerys was nothing. She had been forged in their fire, and without it, she would just be another claimant fighting for the throne. Like Robb, like Mella.

"I had no wish to kill you." Daenerys sounded almost sad. "You seem like a noble man. I have heard your father was, too. But if I want the Iron throne, I must rid myself of all of my enemies. Your wife and son will be the last."

"I won't let you near them," Robb said, his tone cold as the icy North he'd grown up in.

Daenerys smiled softly. "That isn't your choice to make. Dracarys."

With the last word, Rhaegal opened his maw and unleashed a barrage of flames that engulfed Robb. The Stark boy was caught off-guard, his sword clattering to the ground as he screamed and burned. Daenerys flinched away from the sight as if it pained her, swiftly turning on her heel and walking away. Walking away as Robb Stark burned to the ground, his screams echoing through King's Landing like those of her father's victims had so many years ago.

Mella woke choking for breath, tears running down her cheeks, her entire body shaking. As her heart hammered wildly in her chest, it took herself a few panic-stricken moments to assure herself that it wasn't real, that it was only a dream. Once she caught her breath, she buried her face in her pillow, wet tears seeping into the fabric. She didn't want to wake the baby, so she evened her breathing and licked her dry lips.

It had seemed so real. Her other dreams had turned out to be truth, so why shouldn't this one? She was clutched by a cold, very real fear for her husband. She was no warrior, so it would be foolish to go to King's Landing. Her gut instinct told her that was what she must do, but looking at her son sleeping in his cot, Mella was torn. Where was her place? What was her destiny? Why had she been the one to have the dreams about the ice dragon in the mountains, if that creature had been fated for Robb?

Mella pushed herself to her feet, raking her hands through her dark hair. The tiles were cold beneath her toes as she paced. Why was she the one receiving these warnings, the omens of things to come, if she was not a part of it? The ice dragon was for Robb, although it still remained in chains. The vision of Robb's horrifying death, that she couldn't stop…or could she?

Spinning around, Mella's eyes drifted past Willem's cot to the heavy wooden box that had so frustrated her. Walking over with slow, careful steps, she pried the lid open. Robert's war hammer glinted in the moonlight. It was a huge weapon that most men would need to swing with two arms. But not Robert, not Mella's broad-chested father. She gritted her teeth, knowing she wouldn't even be able to swing the hammer, no matter how hard she tried. She would only end up dropping it.

The hammer, the dragon, the chains…

It suddenly dawned on Mella, and she nearly laughed aloud as she pushed herself back to her feet. She didn't need to swing the hammer at all. That wasn't why it had come into her possession. She just needed to drop it.

She was not a nobody or a nothing. The ice dragon was meant for Robb, of that she was certain, but Mella had a role to play too. She just needed to free the dragon. She was its liberator.


By now, Davos Seaworth was almost certain that Mella must be slightly crazy. Why else would his Queen insist that he brought his most trusted three men, and that they carry the wooden box that held Robert Baratheon's war hammer all the way through the damn mountains? He understood where she was going, firmly wrapped in her cloak of midnight blue as she led the way. He could say nothing to the others, but he knew. He just didn't understand what the young Queen intended to do.

"Are we almost there, your Grace?" one of the men asked. Davos sympathised with him – the box was a heavy weight to carry, especially through the cold dawn, where the frost threatened to freeze up their fingers. But Mella was determined, and he knew better than to try and sway a Baratheon.

"Almost." Mella's voice resonated throughout the caves, and Davos knew that the men who were with him almost certainly thought their Queen had lost her mind. But once they saw the dragon…well, perhaps all of them would understand whatever mad scheme Mella had on her mind, for she had not even told Davos what she was planning.

They entered the main cavern, and Davos's men almost dropped the box when they beheld the wonder in front of them. The ice dragon was awake this time, and looking at them keenly with its cold, mildly interested gaze. Mella turned to face them with a knowing smile on her face, and Davos shook his head slowly. It was not a new sight to him, but he still looked upon the ice dragon with fear and reverence.

"What is this…thing?" one of the men exclaimed.

"Do not be afraid." Mella clasped her gloved hands together, before she gestured for the box to be brought to her. "It sounds silly, but…I have the greensight. I saw this creature in the mountains and now I have found it. Last night, I saw my husband in grave danger, and this beast may be the only way to save him."

"Are you certain of this, your Grace?" It was Davos who spoke this time, his tone doubtful. He did not want to appear to question the Queen, but he could not understand how an ice dragon could help Robb Stark. It seemed rather absurd.

"I am." Mella's voice was firm, her gaze sharp. "Daenerys has her dragon. Now we have ours."

Her fingers closed around the hammer and she gritted her teeth as she lifted, every muscle in her body straining as she hauled it out of the box. Davos watched with wonder. Perhaps Mella was wrong, perhaps she was right. But her strength of will, her conviction to believe, reminded him of her uncle Stannis. With a battle cry, Mella hoisted the hammer up as high as she could, and then brought it down on the dragon's chain. The bolt snapped easily under the hammer's weight, and Mella looked thrilled.

"Obsydian," she murmured it like a prayer. "Obsydian. That is what I am going to call you, and I know that you are going to save my husband."

The ice dragon blinked, lifting its newly-liberated claw and inspecting it. Mella's face lit up, and she tilted her head back and laughed. Although Davos had not believed in the Red Woman, although he sometimes doubted the Seven…he found himself believing in this. For if the Targaryen girl rode a fire-breathing dragon into battle, what was stopping Robb Stark doing the same on a creature of the ice?