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Chapter 65
Selene Snow twisted on dragonback to avoid the arrows that flew at her from the walls of Storm's End.
As Rhaegal turned, she shot a quick glance at the lines of archers down below. The dragon seemed unharmed as he landed on the castle's only tower. Rhaegal lifted his head and gave them a deafening roar.
The world fell into silence.
Selene looked down at the hundreds of arrows pointed in her direction. It wasn't until she saw a few familiar faces that she called down, "This was not the welcome I expected."
"Hold your fire!" an older man's voice cried frantically. "Your Grace?"
"Queen Selene?"
"Identify yourself!"
The answer she had given her whole life rose to her lips. My name is Selene of House Baratheon, she wanted to scream it, she wanted it to be true more than anything, but she said, "My name is Selene, daughter of King Robert Baratheon." That, at least, is true.
"Selene Baratheon? Stand down! Stand down!"
Rhaegal clawed his way down the tower, grey stones crumbling below until he landed in the courtyard with a thunder that shook the castle, his tail coiling dangerously.
Selene dismounted, making her way to the dragon's head. His bronze eyes found her, and he gave a metallic purr. She smiled as she ran her hands over his hot scales. Rhaegal saved my life. Our bond is stronger than ever.
The leaders made their way to her.
They were all much changed since she saw them last. Little, brave Mary Mertyn was small and older than she remembered, Ser Goodwin of Evenfall Hall was more stooped, Red Ronnel Penrose's hair was more grey than red…and there were new faces as well. A young man with blond hair and pale blue eyes with the sigil of Harvest Hall on his chest, a barrel-chested man with a silver clasp decorated with ivory and onyx swans and a tall man with familiar big brown eyes.
Footsteps on stone, then a surprisingly agile older man rushed to join them. "You're alive," her uncle Lord Estermont breathed in disbelief.
He looks just like his son Andrew. Her heart broke at the thought of her cousin's fate at the Red Wedding.
"Yes, I am."
Lady Mary cackled, "I knew it." She pointed at the men around her, "They all believed the throne's lies, but I knew you'd return to us."
Selene frowned, "What is my mother saying?"
"She said you were dead, slain after falling from a dragon's back." Lady Mary beamed, "And here you stand, albeit with…"
All eyes went to the dragon at her back.
Selene smiled, "I can see I have much explaining to do."
####
Selene let her words hang heavy in the air.
Lady Mary was the first to speak, "What?"
"I know it may be hard to hear, but-"
"You've bent your knee to the Targaryen invader?" Lord Estermont asked. "You? Robert Baratheon's own daughter?"
"She was born on Dragonstone," Selene argued, "She is not invading, she is returning."
Ser Goodwin, who spoke for his aging Lord Tarth, frowned, "I remember the Mad King. Many of us here do. We followed your father to war. Our lord, Robert." He looked at his fellow nobles, "We believed in him, we trusted him, and together we defeated the world's oldest dynasty."
The lords voiced their agreement.
"We believed in you, too," said Red Ronnel, "When you told the realm you were his only child and heir. All of us here followed you, though you were a girl, and a child…you were his. Any man with eyes could see that. Yet here you are, saying, saying-"
"Asking you," Selene said, "Bend the knee to Daenerys Targaryen, and she will let us live in peace."
"And if we don't?" challenged Lord Swann. He must be Ser Balon's father.
Selene looked away, "Her words are fire and blood."
The lords were outraged.
"Burn us, will she?"
"She wouldn't dare!"
"We will not yield. This isn't the first time a Targaryen has threatened us with fire," said the brown-eyed man. His eyes...Selene had seen his eyes before.
"I'm not sure we've met, my lord."
The lord gave her a wry smile, "No, you wouldn't know me, would you? My daughter only gave her life for yours."
His daughter? That's when Selene realized where she'd seen those eyes. Those eyes used to braid her hair, used to tuck her in at night, used to dress her and laugh with her and look out for her.
Lori.
Selene blinked away tears, "Lord Wylde. Your daughter-"
"In her last letter, she told me she helped you escape King's Landing. She told me not to fear for her, for she had helped her rightful queen, and whatever happened next, she would never regret what she's done for House Baratheon. I never heard from her again."
Selene gave the lords her back. She didn't want them to see her tears. She faced the large, oaken chair at the end of the hall, with stag heads carved into the arms, antlers protruding from its back. This is my place, my family's seat. I should feel at home here, but I feel more like a stranger.
"My daughter is dead," Lord Wylde said without doubt, "She died for a queen, yet you are no queen. Not anymore."
"I bent the knee to save my family," Selene said hotly, "To save the stormlands from ruin."
"And now you expect us to bow to the Mad King's daughter, to a family we fought to overthrow?" Lord Estermont shook his head, "If we do this, if, will you live her, as your father did? Will Storm's End have a Baratheon again?"
Selene shut her eyes. "I can't. I'm no Baratheon."
Lord Penrose laughed, "With that hair? And those eyes? Do you take us all for fools?"
Lady Mary was less amused, "What do you mean you're no Baratheon? What has she done to you?"
Selene half-smiled, "She made me her heir. She was going to marry me to her nephew Aegon-"
Lord Wylde spat, "Aye, we've heard of this pretender prince. Nothing but a Lyseni boy meant to carry on the name after the dragon queen is dead."
"Was?" asked Ser Goodwin. "What happened?"
Selene straightened, "I married for love against her wishes. Ned Stark's bastard son."
Ronnel Penrose crossed himself, "Your first husband's brother? Gods have mercy."
"Against her wishes." Lady Mary shook her head, "What has she done to you, girl? You don't need her permission to do anything. Your father was king. You are a queen in your own right. You can ride a dragon, for gods' sake."
"You should have married a Dornish prince," chastised Lord Swann, "Or even a son of Highgarden. Someone to strengthen your claim, not a bastard."
One lord was suspiciously quiet. Selene turned toward Lord Selmy of Harvest Hall, Ser Barristan's grand-nephew, "Your kin is the Lord Commander of her Queensguard. What say you, Lord Selmy?"
The young man with sandy blonde hair furrowed his brows. To her, Ser Barristan had always been old and wise, as if he had been born that way. But when she looked upon this young lord, Selene wondered if she was seeing the shadow of Ser Barristan's youth.
"I say my great-uncle has been too long in the company of kings and queens," Lord Arstan said, "He has forgotten what it's like to be here, in the stormlands. He has forgotten what the Baratheons have done for my family. Do you know the story?"
Selene nodded, "I do."
Lord Arstan glanced at his fellow nobles, "A thousand years before the Conquest, a promise was made, and oaths were sworn before the old gods and new. When we Selmys were sore beset and friendless, hounded from our homes and in peril of our lives, the stags took us in and nourished us and protected us against our enemies. Our castle is built upon the land they gave us. In return, we swore that we would always be their men. Baratheon men!"
The lords voiced their agreements.
"Who will rule us if not you?" asked Lord Estermont.
Selene shook her head, "I don't kno-"
"You said she would burn us if we didn't bend," said Lord Wylde, "Will you help her? Will you ride beside her as she burns your father's lands to ash?"
"No, I would never-"
"Perhaps you're right," said Lady Mary in disappointment, "You are no Baratheon, and haven't been for some time." She looked to her fellow nobles, "Robert Baratheon's daughter, the one we crowned queen, is dead. Only this shadow remains."
Fury leapt in her chest, "I am still Robert Baratheon's daughter. That will never-"
Lord Wylde spat at her feet, "Be gone, girl! Go back to your dragon queen and give her this message from the stormlands. We will not yield."
Selene met their eyes, one by one, "You've signed your own death warrants, and those of your people. Daenerys will bring down a storm of fire."
"With your help," sneered Lord Estermont, "Bring on your storm, girl, and recall, if you do, the name of this castle."
With that, the lords left her alone in the Great Hall.
Selene stared at the door, speechless, her fists clenched tight. She seized the nearest wooden chair and hurled it at the wall with a shout of frustration. The chair burst apart as she sunk to the floor.
Selene didn't feel like herself. Not anymore. She felt like a watered-down version, pale and thin. She slipped through the cracks, fading into the background of her own mind, always afraid of doing or saying the wrong thing. Her sharp edges had been rounded out. Her course of action, which had always been so clear and straight-forward to her – claim the throne, marry Robb, fight the Lannisters, escape King's Landing, survive Essos – was now hazy and convoluted. She could not tell right from wrong.
Selene didn't know how she came to be like this, how she ended up here, insulted and despised in what should have been her own hall. She only remembered the way she used to be – wild and reckless. Bold and unapologetic. She always did what she thought was best, and damn the consequences, but now she had no idea what was best. She could not convince the stormlords to bend the knee, and she could not protect them should Daenerys decide to destroy them. She had never felt so helpless.
Selene Snow turned toward the lord's chair at the end of the great hall.
She had sat in it once, years ago, when she paid Renly a visit during the war. It was in this hall where she once dined with all the nobility of the south. Where, despite her age and gender, they treated her with respect and reverence. She didn't even think twice about sitting where her ancestors sat. She was a queen, and deserved that seat.
Selene walked up to the stairs below the stag chair, seeing it for the first time.
Black as sin, the wood was expertly carved, with large, regal antlers shooting up from its back. Serene stag heads were carved into its arms. She tried to imagine Durran Godsgrief sitting upon that chair, or the Laughing Storm, or her grandfather Steffon. She imagined her father as a powerful young man of her age, sitting on that chair knowing he deserved it. Never once doubting himself, his birthright, or his name. Knowing that his duty was to protect his people, and she couldn't even do that. My people will burn, and there is nothing I can do about it.
Daenerys didn't just take my name. She took my identity, the source of my power, the respect of my nobles… she felt her rage like a second pulse.
Selene thought of her ancestor Argella Durrandon, the last Storm Queen. She had always loved that story, and it was her father's favourite one to tell, as it was how the Baratheon line started. Argella lost her father, his armies, her hope…yet she barred the gates of Storm's End against Aegon the Conqueror and declared herself Storm Queen. When Rhaenys Targaryen flew a dragon to parley, Argella announced that the defenders of Storm's End would die to the last man. However, her garrison refused to share the fate of Harrenhal and revolted, raising a peace banner and delivering Argella to Orys Baratheon, her father's murderer and Aegon's rumored half-brother.
In all her life, only one sentence was writ from Argella, and it was her warning to the Targaryens. "You may take my castle, but you will win only bones and blood and ashes."
The Storm Queen was willing to burn, but her people chose to surrender. Selene glanced at the door. If only history would repeat itself.
Selene stood at the base of the dais, fingers twitching as looked toward her rightful seat.
She hung her head. Rain began to patter against the windows.
Tears rose to her eyes. I can't withstand this storm.
For the first time in years, she heard her father's voice. You are the storm.
Selene opened her eyes, looking about the hall. Footsteps echoed from outside the western door. It wasn't long until a middle-aged serving woman poked her head in.
The woman was fighting age with every step. Her hair was jet black and the white skin of her face looked too tight, but her grey eyes were kind. "Forgive me, my lady. I did not mean to intrude." She eyed the fragments of the smashed chair. "Is everything alright?"
Selene was disarmed by the woman's kindness. "Not particularly."
The woman tilted her head, "May I join you?"
Well, I have nowhere else to be. "I can't promise I'll be good company."
The servant smiled, "The honor of your company would be enough, my lady." The woman gestured at the feathered broom in her hands as she approached, "I'm only here for the dust."
Selene sat at the base of the steps, patting the step just above, "Please, sit."
The woman hesitated, glancing up at the chair, "I can't get too close. Or sit above you."
Selene smiled, "I won't tell. Anyway, I'm no different from you. What's your name?"
"Lina, my lady. Lina Storm."
"You need not call me lady, Lina. Selene will be fine."
Lina gave a low whistle, "Calling a Baratheon by her given name. Strange times we live in, eh?"
Selene shook her head, "I've been attainted. I'm no more Baratheon than you."
Lina tilted her head, "Why's that?"
She brought her knees to her chest, crossing her arms over them, "I fell in love with a bastard like you."
"I'm no bastard." Lina said defensively, "My parents were married, and each of their parent's before them."
"I meant no offense, it's only your name-"
Lina waved her apology away, "Someone was a bastard, a long time ago, but we don't remember the lord that did it. My family has served this castle for as long as we can remember." She gave Selene a wry smile, "You look just like your father, you know?"
Selene chuckled, her mind far from her troubles, "I've heard that before, strangely enough.
Lina shook her head, "And your grandfather, too." She looked deep into Selene's eyes, "The same deep blue eyes and fine black hair. Though yours curls more, I must admit."
That would be courtesy of my mother. "You knew my grandfather?"
Lina smiled, her eyes faraway, "Steffon Baratheon. Now, he was a handsome man."
Selene giggled, before growing serious, "Father never talked about him."
"Gods, the man was made of muscle, and he had the most gorgeous silver streak in his hair, courtesy of his Targaryen mother, of course."
Selene was taken aback, "No one ever told me that."
Lina shrugged, "Not something your father wanted to remember, I expect."
"Did you know my great-grandmother, Rhaelle?"
The old woman's brows shot up. "How old do you think I am, girl?"
Selene blushed.
Lina shook her head, "No, I did not, but my mother served her and told me stories. She said there was never a maid more lovely, outspoken, or fearsome than Rhaelle Targaryen.
Selene was rapt on her every word, "What was Storm's End like back then?"
The lines in Lina's face deepened, "The realm was at peace. The halls were always filled with music and song. We'd have a ball for everything, the full moon, the harvest, some lord or ladies nameday celebrations…"
Selene felt her eyes grow wet, "What I would give to see that with my own eyes."
Lina looked down kindly, "Those times will come again. Now that the war is nearly over?"
Selene sighed, "I've only known war for so long, it feels like it will never end."
"Well, I think we'll have peace again," Lina said confidently, "That's all I pray for."
Selene smiled, "The common people pray for rain, healthy children and a summer that never ends."
"Precisely. Don't misunderstand me, the stormlanders are proud of their history, proud of their houses, proud of you and your family, but they pray for peace and an end to this pointless war."
"Pointless?" That word took Selene aback, "How is the war pointless?"
Lina laughed, "You seem a kind enough girl, but you will always be highborn. Your father's rebellion was meant to put an end to the Mad King and the realm's suffering. Your war was to restore the rightful heir to the throne. But these past few years? Well, it seems to me it's just lords squabbling for scraps, crows feasting on corpses. No one talks of uniting the realm, of protecting the people."
"Daenerys Targaryen-"
The servingwoman waved her hand, "The Mad King's daughter? She's as foreign as the eunuchs and horselords beside her. She may win the throne with her dragons, but how do I know she'll be a good queen? Or her pretender prince?"
Selene raised her brows, "I didn't realize how much the people knew about her court."
"Word travels fast in the kingdoms, the stormlands is no difference." Lina leaned in close, "Since you fled to Essos, the people have been whispering of the day you would return and claim your rightful place." She inclined her head toward the stag's throne.
Selene glanced at the northern door the nobles used, "I wish the lords felt the same."
Lina studied her for a moment, before brightening, "I know! Come with me into town. Hear for yourself."
"What? No, I couldn't-"
Lina stood, reaching out her hand, "What? Have other plans? Please? It would be a story my family could tell for years to come. Lina Storm taking Selene Baratheon herself to speak with the people."
Selene looked back and forth between her grey eyes, a small smile spreading on her face as she reached out and took her hand.
###
"A bear there was, a bear, a bear!" sang the singer with his woodharp. Fifty if he was a day, the singer was small and trim with thinning brown hair and a foxy appearance with his sharp nose and wide smile. "All black and brown, and covered with hair. The bear! The bear!"
Selene cleared her throat and joined her voice to the rest of the packed tavern.
"OH COME THEY SAID, OH COME TO THE FAIR!"
The singer frowned, "The fair? Said he, but I'm a bear! All black and brown and covered with hair!"
Selene laughed as she and the other patrons sang, "AND DOWN THE ROAD FROM HERE TO THERE. FROM HERE! TO THERE! THREE BOYS, A GOAT AND A DANCING BEAR! THEY DANCED AND SPUN, ALL THE WAY TO THE FAIR! THE FAIR! THE FAIR!"
The singer leapt to take his place besides one of the bar maids, a reed of a girl with yellow hair. The singer waggled his brows as he sang, "Oh, sweet she was, and pure and fair! The maid with honey in her hair! Her hair! Her hair! The maid with honey in her hair!"
Selene exchanged a glance with Lina, who was singing loudly with the rest of them. The servant gestured to her mouth, and Selene wiped the ale from her upper lip with a blush. Lina had lent her a grey cloak and plainclothes so she could blend in with the crowd. Her only personal possessions were the moonstone necklace under her dress and her winter dagger tucked in her boot.
The yellow-haired serving girl raised her chin, "Oh, I'm a maid, and I'm pure and fair. I'll never dance with a hairy bear! A bear! A bear! I'll never dance with a hairy bear!" The girl pretended to struggle against the singer, though her cheeks were bright and rosy, "I called for a knight, but you're a bear! A bear, a bear! All black and brown and covered with hair."
The crowd roared in response, the wooden rafters shaking with song, "SHE KICKED AND WAILED, THE MAID SO FAIR, BUT HE LICKED THE HONEY FROM HER HAIR. HER HAIR! HER HAIR! HE LICKED THE HONEY FROM HER HAIR! THEN SHE SIGHED AND SQUEALED AND KICKED THE AIR!"
"My bear!" the girl sang, "My bear so fair!"
Selene laughed as some patrons stood on their chairs, "AND OFF THEY WENT, FROM HERE TO THERE, THE BEAR, THE BEAR AND THE MAIDEN FAIR!"
The room erupted into cheers, ale flying as men clanked their tankards. Selene laughed as a man fell from his chair in the chaos, only to be caught and carried by the crowd.
Lina leaned in, "When was the last time you had ale in a tavern?"
Selene thought for a moment. She was more likely to solemnly drink wine in a council meeting than happily sip ale in a tavern. "I don't think I ever have."
Lina raised her brows, "Now that's a tragedy."
"The only tragedy here is two lovely women sitting alone," said the singer, sitting opposite them.
Lina rolled her eyes, "Oh, Tom. I can't believe you're still singing. Surely a husband would have taken your tongue by now."
Tom grinned wickedly, "If a song makes a maid want to slip off her clothes and feel the good warm sun kiss her skin, why, is that the singer's fault?"
Selene laughed into her cup.
"Oh, but what is a song compared to a beautiful woman's laughter?"
"Tom Sevenstrings," Lina chastised, "The stormlands are full of enough maids you've pleased, all drinking tansy tea. You'd think a man as old as you would know how to spill his seed on their bellies. Men will be calling you Tom Sevensons before much longer."
"You wound me, Lina, darling. Your dear companion hasn't even had the pleasure of meeting me, and now she already thinks the worse. And you are?"
"My cousin's daughter," Lina said quickly, "visiting from Weeping Town."
Selene extended a hand, "Joanna."
Tom reached forward, but his hand passed hers, tipping her hood back. "Milady, a great beauty like you should never be hidden. It's a crime against the Maiden herself." He stood, one leg propped up on the bench, plucking the string of his woodharp, "Allow me the honor of playing you a song. How about Let Me Drink Your Beauty? Or Two Hearts That Beat As One? I could write one for you…something about your raven curls or your exquisite eyes, which I must say...are as bottomless and mesmerizing as a sapphire sea."
Selene smiled, "My father loved A Cask of Ale."
Lina straightened, "Why don't you play a song about Selene Baratheon?"
"The Realm's Delight? Of course, if that's what milady desires. Shall I sing The Rose and the Moon?"
"I've heard that one," Selene said quickly, "Do you know any others?"
"It depends if milady feels like shedding a tear. For I know a song so haunting, so tragic, that I wager I could make even your merry-self weep."
Selene smirked, "You can't make me cry."
"Seeing as I'm a betting man, how about a silver stag for your tears?"
"Done."
Tom stood on his bench, "Fine ladies and gentlemen of the Drunken Lord, this song is called How a Red Wedding Goes."
Lina leaned in, "You don't have to-"
Selene shook her head, "I want to."
Tom cleared his throat and began to sing, his voice mournful.
Now there once was a time when the realm used to sing of a queen they had crowned
More a child than a maid, more a fawn than a stag
With the fury of her sire in her eyes
Her king broke a vow to the lords of the Twins
For his true love, his lady, but a promise there'd been
So the Lord Frey demanded a bridegroom as compromise
And the stags they groaned
Northern wolves softly moaned
For the king and the queen don't yet know
How a Red Wedding goes
For the feasting was plenty and the singing in tune
The lion and wolf roared under their moon
So loud with their cries that the closing of doors was drowned out
Queen Selene alone had the stag's sharp ear
Heard dancing reels turn to the Rains of Castamere
In her skin and bones growled a creature of worry and doubt
And the stags they groaned
Northern wolves softly moaned
For the king and the queen soon will know
How a Red Wedding goes
There were arrows and daggers and the touch of them burned
From players to slayers, in an instant they turned
And the stag queen was first to fall under the bolts from above
With two arrows in him, the king crawled to her side
While his mother, she pleaded, for the lord to subside
But he'd taken their word and to break it meant no right to life
And the stags they groaned
Northern wolves softly moaned
For the king and the queen now they know
How a Red Wedding goes
Lord Bolton approached, with a thrust to Stark's heart
He gave him the Lannister lion regards
And the king's mother wept, for his last word, he called out to her
The stag queen felt nothing as she wept for his life
And she felt nothing more when they took her child
The realm will remember she fought, and they'll have their revenge
And the stags they groaned
Now the wolves lie below
For the king and the queen if they'd known
How a Red Wedding goes
And the stags they groaned
And the realm waits, they know
That one day the blood they are owed, will run 'neath their soles
Will run 'neath their soles
Tom Sevenstrings plucked his last chords in the absolute silence. The only sounds were the sniffling of women.
Lina wiped her eyes, "It gets me every time. Oh, my lady."
Tom took one look at her and said, "You owe me a silver stag."
Selene wiped at her tear-stained face roughly, "If you will please excuse me." She stood, tossed a silver stag on the table, and left the tavern alone.
The night air was brisk, but Selene shivered from more than the cold as she pulled up her hood. She propped up her arm against a wooden pillar, and rested her forehead there, trying to catch her breath. Robb had three arrows in him, not two, and his last word wasn't 'Mother', it was 'Grey Wind', but she supposed the song was startling accurate for being sung by someone who wasn't there.
"Miss, are you alright?"
Selene turned to find four people looking at her over the flames of their outdoor fire pit. She would guess they were two couples, all looking at her with varying degrees of concern as they clutched their drinks against the cold.
Selene cleared her throat, "I'm alright."
"Was it that blasted song?" asked one of the women, "Tom Sevenstrings loves nothing more than the tears of pretty maids."
Selene bit her lip, "It was the song, actually."
The other woman waved her closer, "Come, share our fire. It's too cold to be without one."
Selene walked over, the light of the fire revealing just how much she'd cried. Or, at least, she guessed so judging from the pitying looks she received from the four drinkers.
One of the men, the one with flaming hair, said, "Did you lose someone at the Red Wedding?"
Selene shut her eyes, and after a moment, nodded, "My first husband," she choked on her words.
The red-haired man looked away, "I lost my brother. He fell in the fighting."
"I'm sorry."
"Shameful thing, what the Freys did at the Twins," said the woman with deep green eyes, "An affront to all the gods."
"Selene Baratheon got her vengeance, didn't she? She burned the Twins down to the foundations. She also put a dagger through Tywin Lannister's throat."
"Which makes her a kinslayer."
"He killed her child, in her belly. I would have done worse to the man who did that to me."
Selene stayed quiet, listening to them go back and forth.
"She's on Dragonstone, you know? My cousin's a fisherman who works in one of the villages on the island, and he says Daenerys Targaryen has landed with her armada, and means to take the throne back from the Lannisters. Queen Selene is queen no longer, and has bent the knee to the Targaryen girl."
The red-haired man spat, "Targaryens. The last thing we need after all this bloodshed is another Mad King. Our good King Robert left us an heir. Why in seven hells did she bend her knee?"
It was the only way back to the stormlands. To my siblings.
"I don't know why, and I don't care. All that matters is that she hurries back to Storm's End. The world's not right without a Baratheon in Storm's End."
Selene stared at the fire, "My uncle served Stannis Baratheon on Dragonstone. In the kitchens. He wrote saying Daenerys Targaryen attainted Selene, and she's a commoner now. No more fit to rule Storm's End than any of us."
The green-eyed woman crossed herself, "Gods be good. As if we needed any more reasons not to trust the dragon queen."
"The Baratheon line is just…gone? There's no way Lady Selene would just let that happen. I mean, she's Winter's Fury for gods' sake. Robert Baratheon's own daughter. Your uncle could have misheard, or misunderstood-"
"He didn't." Selene said shortly.
"The Targaryen girl expects us to bend the knee after ending the Baratheon line? After she attaints our liege lady? She's as mad as her father."
Selene raised her brows, her eyes on the fire, "Maybe she doesn't care if you bend the knee. Maybe, if you don't bend the knee, you'll burn."
The couples fell into silence.
Finally, the man with the round belly crossed his arms, "Selene has a dragon of her own, doesn't she? She'll protect us from the Targaryen girl."
"Daenerys Targaryen has the country," Selene argued, "She has her dragons, as well as her Unsullied and Dothraki-"
"Murderous eunuchs and horse-stinking savages."
Selene went on, "How do you expect the stormlands to survive? Selene Baratheon had to bend the knee…and so do we."
The green-eyed woman raised her chin, "Bailin is right. Lady Selene has a dragon. She would never let us burn."
"But the stormlords-"
"Piss on the stormlords," said Bailin, "What have they ever done for me? For any of us here? Robert Baratheon overthrew the Targaryens once. His daughter has a dragon. She would never sit by while Daenerys Targaryen burns us. Never."
Selene leaned back. It's the people I serve, not the nobles. In an ideal world, she would have both on her side, but she would be damned if she let the people suffer due to the pride of a few nobles.
Selene found herself smiling, "Thank you all."
They looked amongst themselves, frowning. "For what, lass?" said Bailin.
"For reminding me of what matters." With that, Selene turned on her heel, and made her way up the hill toward the castle.
###
Selene Snow stood in her father's hall, standing at the base of the steps below the stag chair.
She took a deep breath and climbed the steps, placing her fingers gently on the arm, where a serene stag head stared with unseeing eyes. This is my place. My family's ancient seat. This place is my blood and bones, as it was for Durran, Argella, Steffon, and Father.
Selene Snow turned and sat in the lord's chair.
The hall was splayed out before her, empty. The tapestries on the wall depicted stories from her family's history. The windows at the far end of the hall showed the coast, the purple clouds rolling in from the sea, the lush forests and towns dotting the land. Her father's lands.
She tapped her finger on the chair's arm.
"Guards!"
A pause, and then a guard with a white owl on his doublet peaked his head into the hall. He looked at her, sitting on her father's chair, as if she was mad.
"Would you be so kind as to fetch me your lady?"
The guard hesitated, "My lady says you have no power here, that-"
"I won't ask twice. Fetch me your lady or I will. I promise you, she would much rather it be you than me."
The guard went red, before closing the door behind him.
Selene sat straight in her chair, mumbling her words under her breath for courage, as a reminder. "Ours is the fury, ours is the fury, ours is the fury." If she wanted to stormlords to listen, she needed to speak their language. They are like Father, every one of them…as stubborn as mules. If I want them to move, I'll have to give them a kick.
Lady Mary Mertryn entered the hall, eyes wide as she took in Selene in her father's seat. "You dare sit where he sat? Where your family once ruled-"
The dam broke, "Enough! Have you forgotten me, my lady? Have you forgotten who I am?"
Lady Mary was taken aback. After a moment, she whispered, "Have you?"
"I am the daughter of your king, I was once your queen in my own right, and I am descended from the family who has ruled these lands for a thousand years. That has not changed, and never will."
Mary Mertyn approached the dais, "My sons and grandsons died for you. They died for your cause. They went to their graves happy, because they had done their duty to you, their liege. And by bending the knee you threw their sacrifice into the dirt."
"I bent me knees to stop the war. To save the sons and grandsons you have left, to save the people of the stormlands." Selene took a deep breath, "Are you familiar with the story of Argella Durrandon?"
"Of course I am. Every child in the stormlands knows the tale."
Selene stood, making her way down the steps, "When her father was slain, when there was a dragon at her door, she spat in the face of her enemies. She told them she, and every man in that castle, would rather die than yield."
Lady Mertyn nodded, "Would that you had done as she did."
Selene's lip curled, "Her men betrayed her. Flew the banner of peace, shackled her, and delivered her to Orys Baratheon as a prize. They thought their lives were more important than her pride."
Lady Mary looked away.
"It took me years of exile to even consider serving a Targaryen, more so to bend the knee. I did it to save my siblings. To save you and the stormlands from fire and blood. And you all hate me for it."
Mary kept her silence.
Anger leapt in her chest, "You think I wanted this? You think I wanted my house to die out, for my name to disappear?"
Lady Mertyn frowned, "Your name would have disappeared either way. If you followed her orders and married the Targaryen pretender or married your bastard boy…your children would not be named Baratheon."
Selene looked out toward the window. She watched dark clouds roll by, the signs of storms to come. "Unless…" Selene mused nonchalantly, "unless my children were born somewhere the law is different. Somewhere like…Dorne?"
Lady Mary swore under her breath. "You were going to have your children in Dorne?"
Selene smirked, "I was going to try. Any child of mine would be named Baratheon then. That idea died the moment Daenerys attainted me."
Lady Mertyn stepped forward, gripping Selene's arms, "So you're still in there somewhere. The queen we all swore to follow."
Selene straightened, "I've made my choice, my lady. My father reached for the crown for his love, and I have put mine aside for mine. Nothing you say can make me change my mind or regret what I've done."
The Lady of Mistwood shook her head, "But don't you see? She hasn't taken your name. She has yet to sit the Iron Throne. She is not the queen. You are still Selene Baratheon, the Lady of Storm's End, at least until the dragon queen sits the Iron Throne."
Selene drew back, "I am not. My name is Selene Snow."
Lady Mary's look hardened, "Why have you sent for me then, Snow?"
Selene smiled, "Because you were one of the few who supported me when no other stormlords would. Because you were the one who told me that men would never willingly bow to the weaker sex, and I wanted to speak to you alone."
The older woman nodded, the lines on her face deeper than ever, "It was as true now as it was then. Except this time, you've put your crown aside."
"I-" Selene widened her eyes, realizing her course.
Argella…
"Guards!"
The same wary looking guard poked his head in.
"Gather all the lords. I have something to say."
Lady Mary bristled, "That's my man you're commanding. Must I remind you, by your own admission, you are no Baratheon."
A dragon roared above them. Lady Mary recoiled.
"That I am not," Selene conceded, "but I am Robert Baratheon's daughter. The blood of Storm Kings, Kings of the Rock and dragonlords runs through my veins…" she stepped forward, smiling, "and I have something to say."
###
"What is the meaning of this?" demanded Lord Swann. "You are no one. How dare you summon us as if we were your subjects?"
The lords lined up in front of the dais, facing Selene where she sat on the stag's chair. She could see the look of discomfort on their faces. Discomfort at her presence, at the ease with which she sat in the chair, as if she had been born to it. Discomfort at the dignified smile on her face, and the attire she wore. With Lina's help, she had dug around the lady's chambers and found a suitable winter dress – black furs with gold lining, golden antlers stitched across her chest. Her black cloak was clipped with a silver stag brooch, and her fingers decorated with heavy rings, melded to look like antlers, lightning bolts, and a dragon's head. The last one could have only belonged to her great-grandmother. Selene drew her courage from her apparel, from knowing they had been worn by her family, and prayed for her ancestors' strength for the task ahead.
Lord Estermont's displeasure was ingrained on his face, "I am the castellan of this castle. You're sitting in my chair."
"This was my father's seat. I'd like to sit here for a moment, if you please, uncle."
Lord Wylde placed his hand on the pommel of his sword, "Why have you dragged us back here? I thought we made ourselves abundantly clear. We will not bow to the Mad King's daughter. To the woman who ended the Baratheon line."
Young Lord Arstan lifted his chin, "We are Baratheon men."
The lords chorused their agreement.
Selene beamed, "Baratheon men. How I've longed to be sitting right here, surrounded by lords and ladies so loyal to my family. Baratheon men…" Selene raised a brow, "How many here are familiar with my family's history?"
The lords shot each other uncertain, sidelong glances.
"No? Can anyone here tell me the story of Argella Durrandon?"
Red Ronnel scowled, "I did not come here for a history lesson," he said as he went to leave.
Selene stood, "I did not excuse you."
Lord Penrose turned sharply, "You have no power here."
Rhaegal's roar was so loud, he could have been inside the hall with them.
The lords looked toward the windows in doubt.
Selene snarled, "Do not test my power and do not tempt my fury. I may have lost my father's name, but I am just as much his daughter now as I've always been. And I have been reminded where my true loyalties lie."
"And where is that?" demanded Lord Estermont.
"With the people," Selene said, stepping slowly down the stairs. "The common people, who pray for rain, healthy children and a summer that never ends. They love the lords that give that to them," she began to circle them where they stood, "and despise those whose pride costs them their lives. I wonder what they'll say when dragons come to burn their country, and all because the stormlords thought their pride was more important than their lives."
The lords stiffened.
Selene continued, "You are all so like Argella. Brave, strong, willing to die to the last man…and I admire that. But your people, the common people you swore to protect, they will not sit back and die for your pride, no more than Argella's men were willing to die for her."
"Our people are more loyal than you realize," said Lord Swann, though she heard a hint of doubt in his voice, "They will not betray us for a foreign invader."
Selene nodded, thinking of Lina and the commoners she met, "You're right. They will not betray you for a foreign invader." She turned on her heel, facing them all, "But what will they do when Robert Baratheon's own daughter, a queen they had crowned, asks for their allegiance? Suddenly, it's not such an easy choice, is it? The daughter of their rightful liege, of the king that gave them years of peace and prosperity…or a lord that won't bend the knee? You can hide yourselves behind your walls, but when I arrive on dragonback, how long do the people of the stormlands stand behind their absentee lord? Their craven lord hiding behind his high walls? When do the people decide the honourable thing to do is choose life, which Robert Baratheon's own daughter is so kindly offering them?"
Selene met each of their eyes in turn, hands joined behind her back. She waited for an argument, an outburst, anything at all….but she was only met with silence.
Until Lady Mary Mertyn started to laugh. Full and round, her laughter came from her belly. The other lords looked at her incredulously.
"Have you lost your wits, Lady Mertyn?" asked a perplexed Red Ronnel.
Lady Mary wiped the tears from her eyes, "No, my lord. If anything, I have found them. We should have known better than to defy a Baratheon. They either find a way, or make one."
Selene smirked.
Her uncle, Lord Estermont began to chuckle. "You are so like your father."
A furious flush crept up Lord Wylde's neck, "You are…you are-"
Selene stepped forward to meet Lord Wylde's gaze, lifting her chin and speaking with her father's voice, "I am Selene, daughter of King Robert Baratheon. Like him, I am wild. I am brutal. I will encircle you and conquer you, because my will is stronger than your own."
Lady Mary tsked, "Go softly, Lord Wylde, I fear you're overmatched."
Lord Arstan shook his head, "Who will lead us if not you?"
Suddenly, Gendry popped into Selene's head. "My lords and lady, I wish for nothing more than a Baratheon to rule Storm's End. I may be my father's only trueborn child, but as you might imagine, I have several bastard siblings. Perhaps one of them can be legitimized. Or you may even have the chance to choose the next Lord of Storm's End amongst yourselves. All of that will come with time, but I swear to you, I will do everything I can to make sure the stormlands knows peace. Will you bend?"
The lords looked amongst themselves, waiting.
Lady Mary, old though she was, shakily went to one knee, "The dragon queen is naught to me. I bend my knee to you, Selene.
Lord Swann frowned, "But her name-"
Mary shook her head, "I don't care what some Targaryen has declared. Robert Baratheon's blood runs through her veins. She's my liege by law, but more than that…" her eyes flicked to each lord earnestly, "Look about this room, my lords. I would argue that each one of us here is as tempestuous as a storm. There are perhaps no lords as hard as stormlords." She said proudly, before turning her wizened eyes to Selene, "and this lady has bested us, because she is a true Baratheon. She's my lady, from this day, until her last."
Lord Estermont stepped forward, placing a hand on Selene's shoulder, "I knew your grandfather well, my lady. I never thought there would be a stronger lord, until your father came of age…and I see them both in you."
Pride grew in Selene's chest, and it took all her will to keep her voice steady when she said, "Thank you, my lord."
Lord Estermont's eyes crinkled warmly, before he stepped back and knelt.
Lord Arstan Selmy drew his sword with a flourish, and placed the tip on the ground as he knelt, "My sword is yours, my lady Baratheon. Where you go, we will follow."
My name is not Baratheon, it's Snow, but Selene bit her tongue. They have a point. Daenerys has yet to sit the throne, so my name is still Baratheon to them. At her court, I will be treated like a Snow, but here….in my father's castle, surrounded by stormlords….She could hardly cut out their tongues if they chose to call her Baratheon. Selene felt the knots in her stomach tighten at the thought of the delicate name game she would have to play in Daenerys' court. Of having to explain to Daenerys why the stormlords call her Baratheon.
Red Ronnel sighed in defeat, "You are your father's daughter, no sane man can deny it." He knelt, "My lady."
Lord Swann looked toward the stag's chair, "My family has served the stags for as long as there have been Swanns. I can't imagine serving anyone else." He knelt, "My lady."
Ser Goodwin of Evenfall Hall, fingered the pommel of his sword thoughtfully, "My lord sent me here to speak on his behalf. He told me to serve our people, and to honor our vows to Storm's End. I do this in his name." He knelt, "My lady."
Lord Wylde was the last one standing. Selene and the lords all looked to him as he shifted uncomfortably.
Selene stepped forward, "Lord Wylde, Lori was a sister to me, and I loved her more than you will ever know. She trusted me-"
"And died for it." Wylde said through grit teeth.
"and I trusted her with my life. She sacrificed herself for me, and I ask you to kneel for her, so we can end this war. My lord, honor your daughter and her sacrifice."
Lord Wylde's brown eyes grew glassy, before he cleared his throat. Slowly, he lowered himself to one knee, "My lady."
Selene turned and walked up the stairs to the stag throne. She imagined her father, her grandfather and all her ancestors doing the same as she turned and sat, gripping the arms of the chair firmly in her hands. She looked down at her lords and smiled brightly.
"Shall we begin?"
Author's Note:
Hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Please leave a review if you can.
The song Timbers & Wind has been adjusted for this story, but the original can be found on YT. I've tried to find the artist, but it's been removed from Soundcloud. Check it out!
10868letsgo: Thank you for your review!
Boomshanka: Thanks for the review.
DarkFriday1408: Thank you so much for your thoughtful review!
RHatch89: I will definitely be diverging from Season 8. Thanks for the review!
ArtimuosJackson: The time is getting closer! Thanks for your review.
Brachelle80: Thanks for your review.
Kankananime123: That is coming up! Thanks for your review.
Shirleyujest123: Glad you liked it!
Recey2010: Thank you so much for your review. The picture is from Devianart. It's called Drawn into Darkness by Australian illustrator Tara Phillips. Go check her out!
Krasni: Thank you! I really appreciate it.
XxDragon King DragneelxX: Thank you so much! It's good to know you're on your toes.
Desert: I hope this chapter kind of answered your questions. Please don't worry, you definitely did not come across as ranty and all your points were 100% valid and what I was trying to set up for this chapter. Selene having to choose between the lords she wants to respect her and the people she wants to protect. Thank you for your very thoughtful review and I'm looking forward to hearing your thoughts on this chapter.
Guest: Thank you!
Spartan10007: Thank you very much!
Alexaguamenti: Thank you so much for your review!
Funeralhumor: Thank you so much for your thoughtful review! I really appreciate hearing what people think specifically about Selene and Jon, so this was super helpful.
Shade: Yes, that was a great suggestions, thanks! Thank you for your thoughtful review.
Colo Kid: That is definitely something I wanted to come across (about Dany trying to have it both ways), so I'm glad that it did! As far as Selene's name, I hope this chapter kind of answered your question. Thanks for saying about Haldon's points!
Victoriapontmercy: Thank you for your very thoughtful review! Yes, technically in the eyes of the realm, Selene is still Lady Baratheon as Dany hasn't taken the Iron Throne yet, and in Westeros if a lady is higher born than her husband, she can choose to keep her name (like Cersei Lannister). Happy to hear you enjoy this fic.
DesertMortician: Thank you for this very thoughtful and in-depth review. I love binging stories, so I love when people do it to mine. All your points are so valid, and I hope this chapter helped answer a few of them. Looking forward to hearing your thoughts on this chapter.
Dakota Joanne: Thank you!
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