Chapter Nineteen: There's A Beast In Every Man
A/N: So this chapter was pretty difficult to write, mainly because of my concerns about getting Stannis and Melisandre in character. I hope I did a good enough job with them! Thank you all so, so much for your wonderful reviews, and for continuing to follow and favourite this story. You are my inspiration. Please let me know your thoughts - and next chapter I can promise a lot of Robb/Mella ;)
"You have seen better days, uncle."
Stannis, sitting in the corner of his cell, looked up and blinked at the harsh light of a torch before he recognised the woman holding it. Girl, really. Mella Baratheon offered him a wan smile and he pushed himself to his feet, crossing over and gripping the bars. What in the name of the Seven was she doing at Storm's End? By the way the guards lingered close, it was evident that Mella was a prisoner in her own way. Any hope of freedom was quashed in that realisation.
"What are you doing here?"
"I came to see you," Mella admitted, setting the torch in one of the holds on the wall. "Unfortunately, it would seem that Aegon Targaryen has taken your place. I was surprised he hadn't just killed you."
Stannis laughed mirthlessly. If Aegon had killed him, surely his men would have rebelled. Much as the dragon prince would want him dead, there was something else he needed…and now Stannis believed he had found the answer. Melisandre's visits were rare, for she spent most of her days locked up in her room, however she had told Stannis of the potential union of the dragon and the doe. Aegon and Mella.
"So why are you visiting me?"
"Because I need your help." Mella drew closer to the bars, obviously afraid of being overheard. Observing her now, Stannis could see how much she had grown over the past few months – in maturity particularly. "I cannot get rid of Aegon alone. I also cannot claim the throne with my own meagre forces. You are an honourable man, uncle. Surely you recognise my right to the throne is stronger than yours."
Of course Stannis knew as much. Yet…Melisandre warned him against accepting Mella. She was a girl, not his Queen. But if he had an ally, Stannis would be out of the prison. Melisandre's Lord of Light hadn't released him, but perhaps Mella could. He drew back from the bars and regarded her with a wry expression.
"I'm listening."
"If you acknowledge my right to be Queen, if you support me…" Mella licked her dry lips. Could she trust Stannis? She was hoping that she was right to speak to him. He did not seem low enough to betray her, but people could change in different situations. "I promise to do everything in my power to free you from that cell."
"What if you can't?" Stannis challenged. It was definitely a tempting prospect, but Mella was a prisoner too. "What assurance do you have that you can get me out?"
"I need only your word." Mella tossed her dark hair over her shoulders. If Stannis agreed, there was a chance she could rally his men to the cause. She doubted anyone loyal to the Baratheons liked the fact that Aegon had usurped Storm's End. It was slightly amusing, how much power someone's word could hold.
"If I agree to help you become Queen," Stannis spoke slowly, eyes piercing hers. "You must agree to appoint me your Hand."
Mella hesitated. There was wisdom in such an appointment, but she had been hoping to think over those who would be closest to her. Was there any harm in agreeing? She gnawed at her lip for a few moments, mulling the decision over before she nodded slowly. If Stannis attempted to betray her, he would be truly sorry for it.
"Agreed. My Hand, and my heir until such time as I have sons of my own."
It seemed that her last words convinced him the most, for Stannis straightened up at the mention of the word 'heir'. Mella knew then that she lured him into her game as surely as a spider lures a fly into its web. She smiled, and hoped that she would have her own heirs sooner rather than later. She trusted Stannis – but to an extent. Mella would feel far better knowing she had a son of her own to take the throne after her.
"Then we have a deal," Stannis said quietly.
It was no surprise to Mella that Davos Seaworth was the first to rally behind her. It would seem that many were disillusioned by Aegon's oppression, and when Mella managed to gain enough freedom to call a small meeting of Stannis's most loyal, she was a little taken aback at the outcome.
It had not been easy. Mella had sweetened her words towards Aegon, honeyed her tone. Once he believed she was going to be more cooperative, it was astounding how much more freedom she was given. She felt invigorated though – as a woman, it was not often that Mella found herself in a position of power. It was slightly amusing that it was here, as Aegon's prisoner, that she had managed to gain respect.
"I want you to listen to me." Mella raised a hand for silence, and was actually a little astonished at how quickly the quiet chatter died down. "Earlier today, I visited Stannis in his cell. We came to an agreement – Stannis would back me as Queen, in exchange for the position of Hand once I gain my throne."
She had expected protests at such an announcement, especially from Davos. After all, how could a seventeen-year-old girl expect to become Queen, when her older uncle seemed a far better candidate in the opinion of many? But there was merely silence after Mella spoke, and she swallowed, a little unsure how to continue in the absence of criticism.
"When the time is right, we will strike Aegon Targaryen down." Mella slapped her fisted hand down into her palm to demonstrate. "All I ask is for you to support me when that time comes. Do you want a dragon on the throne of Westeros? Or do you want a Baratheon?"
"We will follow you, my lady," Davos Seaworth said as he stepped forward. His voice was quiet, but there was no doubting the seriousness of his words. Mella couldn't say how grateful she was for him voicing his opinion, for several others were nodding affirmations. "If this is what our lord Stannis desires, then we are more than happy to obey him."
"I hear that Mella visited you yesterday." The musical lilt of Melisandre's voice funnelled into Stannis's cell, and he clambered to his feet as the torchlight shone off her flame-red hair. There appeared to be no signs that Melisandre was a prisoner, aside from the fact that she had grown pale and somewhat thinner. Yet she looked as radiant as ever, and Stannis had no doubts that Melisandre was continuing to receive guidance from the Lord of Light.
"Indeed she did," Stannis replied, his voice hoarse from disuse. "What of it?"
"You know that she is a threat to you." Melisandre's voice was soft and held no hint of venom, yet already Stannis knew what she would suggest. It was what she had suggested with Gendry as well. Anyone of the Baratheon line who was not Stannis was a threat. With Renly dead and Gendry gone, Mella was the only threat left – and a troubling one at that, because her legitimacy superseded Stannis's.
"She is just a girl," Stannis said wearily.
"They are both threats, Aegon and Mella." Melisandre's voice swelled in confidence. "Do you not know what will happy if he manages to convince him to marry her? Do you truly not understand the power any child of theirs could hold? The Lord of Light has shown me the way, and I know you must cringe at such talk of slaughtering your niece, but it is the only way for you to ascend to the throne…"
"Why does it have to be me?" Stannis inquired. He didn't want to give the throne up, but he was not power-hungry for it. Mella had promised him a position as her Hand. That was good enough for him. "Why are you so against Mella having the crown?"
Melisandre sighed, rolling her eyes to the heavens. "You are the Prince Who Was Promised, you remember this. She is nothing, just the last surviving Baratheon, the only one who still stands in your way."
"Then why are you so afraid of her?" Stannis demanded, causing Melisandre to fall silent. Her eyes seemed to flare in the torchlight, and Stannis was afraid – but not for himself. What would Melisandre do to Mella if Stannis refused to cooperate in causing her death? He had not yet chosen his side, but he had shunned Davos for Melisandre and now look where he was…in a cell.
"I do not fear the Baratheon child," Melisandre replied with something close to contempt. "She is just a girl. But what happens when she discovers the power she possesses? The power to build or crush nations. That is what I fear, Stannis."
Mella woke during the night to the stench of smoke and the sound of muffled shouts beyond the walls of her room. Wrenching the blankets aside, she crept carefully over to the window, afraid of what she might see should she open the curtains. Why did it smell like fire? Why were people shouting? Were they burning? Biting her lip and mentally steeling herself, Mella flung the curtains open – and it was worse than she could possibly have imagined. She pressed a hand over her mouth to smother a gasp.
Storm's End was on fire. The flames seemed to lick away at everything, and Mella's first, firm thought was that Aegon could not have done this. Dragon or not, he was not insane enough to set the place alight simply because she refused to do his bidding. Mella suspected that red-haired witch, Melisandre. She always regarded Mella with cool eyes, and it was so difficult to tell what she was thinking. Only, how would Melisandre benefit from something like this?
An insistent hammering upon the door caused Mella to whirl around, clutching at the curtains with her tight fists as though she could yank them shut and hide herself on the balcony. But when the door finally slammed inwards, it was Davos Seaworth who stood there with a sword on his hand. When he noticed Mella standing shocked over by the window, he extended a hand towards her.
"Come quickly, my lady."
Mella did not to be told twice. She hurried towards the door where Davos stood, stepping out into the corridor to realise the situation was little better. The fire was spreading rapidly, eager to consume anything in its path. Mella glanced at Davos with wide, questioning eyes. It seemed too much like something Aerys Targaryen had wanted for King's Landing, with everything on fire. Perhaps Aegon was behind this after all. Was it possible? Was the man who wanted to marry her truly that mad?
"Mella!"
The alarmed cry had barely escaped Davos before someone grabbed Mella and shoved her up against the wall with a hand around her neck. She choked, looking up to see Aegon glaring down at her, violet eyes bright with anger. She struggled, but her efforts were pathetic in the face of such a strong opponent. A chill ran down her spine when she realised he had crossed through the flames to reach her, and had not burned. So he was a Targaryen after all.
"Did you do this?" he hissed at her.
"No!" Mella exclaimed, utterly confused. The feeling of the hard stone pressed against her back made her feel uncomfortable, made escape seem all the more inevitable. "I thought that you might have!"
Aegon frowned deeply. "Why would I set fire to a place that I had occupied? I had complete control, until this."
Davos lunged at the dragon prince with his sword, but Aegon was too quick. He moved with the speed of a striking snake, whirling out of the way so that the blade only managed to cut into his shoulders. He spat curses as he clutched at the wound, backing away into the flames where they would not follow. Mella gave a deep sigh of relief, rubbing ruefully at her neck, where she felt that bruises would show up in the form of Aegon's fingers. Davos stowed his sword and looked at her, and Mella realised how utterly loyal he was, that he would defend her with his life. She was the sort of comrade she desperately needed.
"Where are the others?" she inquired with as much composure as she could manage, as Davos and his men hurried her outside.
"Waiting for us beyond the gates. We have not managed to find Lord Stannis, so we assume he has already escaped."
"If he hasn't?" Mella asked, although the grimness in Davos's eyes told her that she already knew the answer to her own question.
"Then he is dead, and we can do nothing for him. For now, we have to get you out of Storm's End and ensure your safety. We will search for Stannis once we are free."
Only once they had escaped from within the walls of Storm's End did Mella realise how many men were actually waiting for her. She caught her breath to realise she quite literally had an army under her command – and they looked to her, a girl of seventeen, for instruction. Many of these had likely been Renly's men before his death, and that thought encouraged her. She mounted the horse that one of the men kindly brought over to her, lifted her chin and stared over the men. Her men.
"We ride north."
Stannis couldn't quite remember how Melisandre had gotten him out of Storm's End, but his first coherent thought was lying on his back on the moist grass, looking up at the stars. He tried to cough the smoke out of his lungs and became aware that Melisandre was beside him with a sympathetic expression. Stannis couldn't express his disappointment when he looked up to see Storm's End completely engulfed in flame.
"Where are my men?" he rasped.
"They fled with your niece," Melisandre noted coolly, a note of disdain in her tone. "I am the only one loyal to you, my King. Surely you must see that now. All of them, even that Davos Seaworth, left with her."
"Perhaps they thought me burned alive," Stannis said hoarsely. He coughed once more, grimacing as he tried to expel all of the smoke from his lungs. Everything was on fire, and he was here with only Melisandre for company. "What of Aegon and his company? Are they still within the walls?"
"No." A slightly disturbed look crossed Melisandre's face at the mention of the dragon prince. "The boy dragon is…the flames do not affect him. They do not eat at his flesh like they do with most mortal men. He is an abomination, but a true Targaryen. He and his men fled at the first sign that Storm's End was lost. But I looked into the flames and I saw Aegon's return, and Mella sitting on the Iron Throne."
"What?" Stannis looked at her sharply. "You have been so convinced that I will become King…"
"These visions are different," Melisandre assured him, helping Stannis to his feet. Even the stone walls were beginning to buckle at the mercy of the fire. "These are not prophecies, but warnings. It is clear now. Mella Baratheon will be your death, or you will be hers."