Chapter Twenty-Five: Never Rise Again
A/N: I'm sorry for the delay in updating - the space between the end of last year and now was a very difficult time, but now I'm back to writing a bit more :)
The ballad mentioned in this chapter, "Rubies", is completely fictional - I came up with it myself so I hope it's not too terrible!
As always, I am so flattered by the interest in this story. It's scary to think it's been over 2 years since I started this story - and I think I can safely say that I HOPE to finish this story before it becomes 3 years :D Thanks for sticking with me so far - 329 reviews, over 500 favourites and over 750 follows, guys, you're honestly amazing. Enjoy this chapter!
Aegon Targaryen marched with his head held high through the Stark camp as if he had won some great victory, instead of managing to conquer the meagre forces that protected a pregnant eighteen-year-old girl. Rhaegal and Viserion wheeled overhead, and Aegon knew that Daenerys was not far behind. He strode into the command tent, and sure enough, Mella Baratheon – or was it Mella Stark now? – was there. The dark-haired girl whipped around to face him, grey-blue eyes burning with the fury her house was so renowned for.
"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded. As she strode towards him, Aegon could see that the rumours were true. Her stomach was swollen with the child she carried, Robb's child. He pressed his lips into a firm line, violet eyes narrowing. She had so easily spurned him, and yet now she was heavy with Robb Stark's babe. "I should have expected nothing less than cowardly from you, Aegon Targaryen. You would wait until my husband has rode out for battle before you come to our camp…"
"Silence." Aegon caught her arm in a bruising grip, and Mella clenched her jaw, but did not grimace. Without another word, the dragon prince marched her from the command tent, tugging the Queen in the North with him. Daenerys waited for them outside, and as her nephew led the dark-haired girl from the command tent, Aegon noticed the two women sizing each other up, noting each other as worthy adversaries. Mella was taller and possessed a more womanly build, but Daenerys was certainly formidable with her dragons.
"Lady Baratheon." Daenerys's tone was cool and formal.
"If you are to address me, you will do it properly." Mella pulled her arm from Aegon's grasp, throwing him an irate look. "I am Mella Baratheon, Queen in the North, rightful heir to the Iron throne and lady of Storm's End."
"All titles your family usurped," Aegon interjected, fixing a hard look on the dark-haired girl. "Aside from your claim to Storm's End. You have little right to call yourself a queen, when my aunt and I have far more of claim to the throne than you."
"Really." Mella raised her eyebrows, a smirk pulling at the corners of her lips as she observed Aegon boldly. "I remember you saying differently when I was your 'guest' at Storm's End, or have you so quickly forgotten?"
Anger flashed through Aegon's eyes and he stepped forward, however Daenerys quickly moved between the two, sensing tension. If there was one thing his dear aunt was, it was compassionate. She may not know or even like the Baratheon girl, but she would not stand by if she thought Aegon may show violence. The Targaryen girl's eyes drifted towards Mella's obvious pregnancy, before landing back upon her nephew.
"Enough. Lady Baratheon is not to be harmed."
"Of course." Aegon took a step back, taking a deep breath. There was something about Mella that made his blood burn, in many ways. He both desired her still, and also wanted to kill her. He wasn't sure which was more practical.
Mella was seething as she paced her tent, too agitated to sit down or to rest as Daenerys had recommended she do. The dragon princess seemed fair enough, despite the dragons she brought with her. Mella remembered the dragon skulls in the Red Keep – as a child, her father had shown them to her, the last relics of a line long forgotten. Only now, the Targaryens had returned, and the dragons that came with them were far from mere skeletons lining the lower levels of the castle.
It was Aegon that caused Mella to truly worry. She did not know what the young man was capable of, but there was a fire burning in those violet eyes. She only hoped that he did not hold the same madness as his grandfather. Aegon was much bigger and stronger than Mella – if he wished to overpower her in any manner he certainly could, and so she knew that she must be wary around him.
She was furious at herself. She was meant to be powerful, be the Queen in the North. What sort of monarch was so helpless that she could be captured so easily by the forces of her enemies? It was a coward's move to take the camp while Robb was away, but in doing so it had likely avoided much bloodshed. However, when Robb returned, Mella knew that her husband would be irate about what had occurred. She chewed at her lip, fearing for Robb. Would he be slaughtered by these dragons?
"I take it you heard tales of the Battle of the Trident growing up."
Mella spun around to face Aegon, who was sitting in a chair with a pitcher of red wine on the table beside him. She tensed, hand fluttering to her stomach. It could never be a good thing for him to bringing up that fateful event, especially considering it had decided the fates of both of their families. However, she maintained her calm façade, folding her arms over her chest – which was growing to be a difficult feat what with her prominent stomach.
"Of course I did. Why do you ask?"
"I seem to recall there was a song made to commemorate your father's great victory." Aegon's tone was dripping with sarcasm as he pushed himself to his feet, goblet of wine in hand. "What was it called?"
"Rubies," Mella responded, growing more wary by the moment. She was not certain why the young dragon was asking her such things, but nothing good could come of it. When her eyes landed upon the pitcher of wine, she realised that it was nearly empty. Clearly, he had had quite a fair bit to drink. "Is there a point to this? Because if so, I would very much like to reach it. Pregnancy means my patience is stretched rather thin."
"Ah, Rubies. A song I haven't heard in quite a few years." Aegon's smile was pleasant enough, but his violet eyes remained cold. "Why don't you sing it for me?"
"Why?" Mella demanded, with no hint of forced politeness in her tone. "What have you to gain from this?"
"I want to hear your father's rendition of my father's death," Aegon said, his voice dangerously low as he took another gulp of wine. "Go ahead. Let's hear what the bards have to say about your fat, lecherous drunkard of a father's victory."
Mella bristled, but did not want to argue. The harm to herself she could endure, but the threat to her and Robb's unborn child was ever present. If Aegon wanted to sneer at what the bards sang about the Battle of the Trident, he could. Taking a deep breath, Mella licked her dry lips and started to sing.
"Over hills and valleys wide, the stag from Storm's End had to ride.
A dragon there did wait for him, a dragon prone to carnal sin,
At the ruby ford.
The dragon stole the stag's dear prize, which surely could not be so wise.
He carried there a shining sword, the stag a hammer, heavy and broad,
To the ruby ford.
The dragon wore armour, polished and bright, red rubies showing his house's might.
Yet the brave stag showed no sign of fear; the dragon's end was surely near,
At the ruby ford.
They charged, struck and parried so, trading many a vicious blow.
The valiant stag, true and strong, fought the tainted dragon long,
In the ruby ford…"
Aegon frowned as Mella's voice faltered – but she could not help it. A dark cloud had crossed the young dragon's face at the song that so clearly condemned his father and bolstered Mella's, immortalising Robert's victory forever. She was not sure she could go on, knowing the words that came next.
"Keep singing, go on."
"Aegon, I…" Mella protested, but before she could come up with a valid reason, Aegon stepped forward and seized a hold of her arms, gripping them tightly enough to make her grimace.
"I said keep singing."
Biting at her lip, Mella drew a shaky breath and continued.
"The stag's hammer hit the dragon's chest, although the dragon tried his best
The rubies fell into the river bed, dragon blood stained the water red,
At the ruby ford.
Out rattled the dragon's final breath, he who could not conquer death.
The stag then raised his hammer high, and king he became under the sky,
At the ruby ford.
The crown was placed on the brave stag's head, he ruled as king in the dragon's stead.
The dragon's house was torn, root and stem, for they would never rise again."
Mella finished in little more than a whisper, but her eyes burned brightly, her last words a warning for Aegon. His eyes narrowed and he released her arms, instead catching her by the throat, not tightly by with a grasp firm enough to make her gasp in shock.
"Do you think that, little doe?" Aegon hissed in her ear. "Do you truly believe that Daenerys and I will not succeed?"
"No, I don't," Mella replied, defiant despite his fingers around her neck. "I think that Robb will kill you. Or I will."
Aegon hesitated, as though uncertain whether to be angry or amused. At that moment, someone walked into the tent, and Mella turned to see Daenerys crossing over to her nephew with an irate expression on her face.
"I told you Lady Baratheon was not to be harmed."
"I am not hurting her," Aegon said defensively, removing his hand from Mella's throat. "Merely making a point."
"Well, you may want to stop." Daenerys glanced between the two of them. "Robb Stark has returned."
Robb Stark was fuming as he was marched through his own camp by Targaryen forces. He had met neither of the Targaryens thus far, but he dearly wished to now. They had taken his pregnant wife captive, forced him into a surrender. He was furious at himself for leaving Mella behind at their mercy, and furious at them for being such cowards, waiting for his departure until they struck.
There was much jeering and taunting as Robb was marched past the members of the Golden Company, mercenaries that Aegon had employed to help him win Westeros. Robb could not help but feel disdain – these men were likely men without loyalty, men who only fought for the promise of gold. That gave him an idea, and a slight smile curled the corners of his lips as he was led into the command tent.
Mella sat down in a chair, but she sprang to her feet at the sight of her husband. A young man with silver-blonde hair of only a year or two older than Robb caught her by the arm. There could be no denying that this was Aegon Targaryen, nor that the fair silver-haired girl who drifted over to them was his aunt, Daenerys. Robb clenched his hands into fists as Mella's wide eyes fixed upon him.
"If you have laid one hand upon my wife…"
"Your lady is unharmed," Daenerys responded, shooting a stern look at Aegon. The dragon boy released Mella and took a step back, but Robb could tell that Aegon was sizing him up. His violet eyes were contemptuous, his lip curled in disdain. "In fact, no one here will be harmed if you simply do what we want."
"What exactly is it you want?" Robb asked warily. The Targaryens seemed to have gone to great lengths to capture Mella, and therefore use her against her husband. Robb's eyes drifted to the swell of her stomach, the child that she carried. It was a son, he was sure of it. He could not allow any harm to come to her or their unborn son, and so he had to be cautious.
"For you to surrender your claim as 'King in the North'," Aegon stated, his tone derisive. "You are not a monarch, you are lord of a frozen wasteland."
Robb tensed, his bright blue eyes narrowing. He was not sure what cause Aegon had to show such open hostility, but he suspected it had something to do with Mella. Lifting his chin, Robb examined the supposed dragon intently. Daenerys stepped between them, clearly the more reasonable of the dragon duo.
"I am not giving you the north," Robb said coldly.
Aegon's smile was mocking. "Then give me your wife."
Robb tensed. It was clear now that Aegon's problem was his marriage to Mella – and therefore, the child that she carried, Robb's child. The threat to his wife and son was obvious, and he found his hand inching towards the hilt of his sword, only to remember that it had been taken from him. Aegon watched him with a smirk.
"I am not a possession to be given," Mella spat, her angry eyes settling on Aegon and her tone making him glance at her in surprise. Robb could not help feel a surge of pride – Mella was not fiery, but when she was irate, she truly did live up to the words of her house.
"No matter how much power you have, you are still a mere woman," Aegon reminded her, causing Mella's jaw to clench. Robb knew that she was so much more than that – although Daenerys would certainly disagree, although Robb had seen her mighty dragons, Mella was the most powerful woman in Westeros.
"I will fight you." Robb stepped forward. He knew what he was about to propose was potentially suicide – he did not know how good a fighter Aegon was. But it was worth the attempt, for his wife and unborn child. Even though Mella would certainly hate him for it. "I will fight you for her freedom."
"Are you challenging Aegon to single combat?" Daenerys asked, a frown coming across her pretty face. Whatever she had been expecting, clearly this was not it. The rational King in the North, choosing an option like single combat. With Jaime, Robb had declined. With Aegon…perhaps he stood more of a chance.
"No!" Mella cried, but Robb paid no heed to her obvious distress. His blue eyes met the dragon girl's violet ones, and he nodded firmly.
"I am."
"I accept your challenge." Aegon stepped forward, lifting his chin with a smug look about his features that Robb dearly wished to punch off. "What are the conditions of the duel then, Lord Stark?"
"If I win, I am permitted to keep the North," Robb stated, folding his arms over his chest and ignoring Mella fervently shaking her head, an expression of horror on her face. "My wife is also allowed to return to me, and you must leave this camp."
Aegon glanced at Daenerys, both of them seeming to mull over Robb's words. Daenerys gave a slight nod, and Aegon turned his attention back upon the young wolf. Robb braced himself, knowing that the Targaryens would have terms of their own, and wondering what Aegon would want if he won.
"Then if I win, I get to keep your wife, and decide the fate of your child. We will claim the North as our own, and you will be banished there for the remainder of your days."
"Robb, don't," Mella pleaded, her hands rested over the bump of her stomach. "You don't know what will happen…what if you die? How will you know then that Aegon will keep his promise?"
"I will make sure that he does," Daenerys said, her voice full of steel.
Robb watched as his wife swallowed hard. He knew it must be difficult for her, not knowing whether he would live or die. So often, single combat ended in death despite the terms stating surrender. A foul move, an accidental cut too deep. Robb was prepared. He knew that Mella was not helpless, perhaps physically but not politically. But in this instance, he was the one who could decide their fates, and so he would. For better or worse.