Argilac’s “famous mane of black hair” suggests that another of my personal theories is correct: that the “Baratheon look” is actually the look of House Durrendon, transferred through Argella. That always seemed to make sense to me given that Orys Baratheon is supposedly a Targaryen bastard and yet House Baratheon ended up with one of those magical noble house hereditary appearances that is pretty much the exact opposite of House Targaryen. It also fits with Orys adopting the Durrendon’s sigil and motto.
Argella heard the announcement that Orys had finally returned. She tried to compose herself, to disguise her anxiety. She still did not want to show weakness in front of the people in the castle. She stepped out to meet him and froze at the sight. He looked pale, haggard and sickly and her eyes were drawn to the stump where his sword hand once was.
“I thought they might have warned you, my lady.”
Orys sounded strained. They did warn her but seeing it was another matter. She made herself look away from it.
“I have made preparations for your return my lord,” she replied. “You must be very weary.”
The words did not do justice to what she felt at all. Orys did not seem to care though. He walked with her through the castle and to their chambers. The effort seemed to take the last of his strength and he sank onto the bed. He looked up at her.
“Are you repulsed Argella?”
She knew she took too long to answer. His mouth tightened and she moved to sit beside him on the bed.
“I am not repulsed Orys,” she said and her voice shook. “I am angry.”
His eyes closed and he put his arm down as if to balance himself. It was the wrong arm though and he cursed. Argella felt a sudden urge to comfort him but expected he might not take it well. He had a certain pride, as did she.
The Targaryen champion and look where it has taken him.
“I did not mean to cause you anger,” he finally said in a bitter sounding voice.
Argella stiffened. “It is not you I am angry with.”
It was mostly true.
She watched him struggle over the following days. He seemed to do only a little better than the baby at first, trying to relearn how to do everything with his one remaining hand. Argella remembered their first meeting and all the time following it, of his kindness to her and she returned the favour. Orys did not like to be helped. He became frustrated but it was always followed by remorse.
“I do not wish to burden you.”
“You are my husband,” she replied. “It is not a burden.”
With time he learned to use the hand remaining to him. He became stronger once more but it came with a cost. Argella saw him after the raven came with the Targaryen seal and she knew what it meant.
“No,” she said angrily.
“I must go,” he said softly. “You know I must.”
Argella knew no such thing.
“This obsession of his is madness,” she shouted. “He lost a wife, you lost a hand. How much more will he sacrifice for this?”
Orys sighed and Argella stepped forward to embrace him.
“Stay with us Orys. You have given him enough.”
She did not want days, weeks and months of an empty bed. She did not want to raise their children alone. He had fought to take her castle, he had worn down her defences and wed her and she would not lose him now. She had lost too much already on Aegon’s orders. One look told her that her plea fell on deaf ears.
“He is my king. It is my duty.”
His brother will always come first no matter what he asks.
Argella pulled away from him and gathered her dignity. He will never be my king.
“He does not deserve your loyalty,” she said scornfully.
She heard his tentative step towards her. “I will return my love.”
She pulled away from his touch, too angry and disappointed to relent. His willingness to do whatever Aegon asked reopened old wounds. He killed my father she reminded herself.
“Mayhaps I do not wish you to return,” she replied.
Orys lingered for a moment longer. “You do not mean that.”
Argella did not answer him. She knew he would leave no matter what she said now and she tried to nurture her anger. She called on her House words to sustain her. Ours is the Fury. She lived those words as it fell to her to manage Storm’s End. She took comfort in her children but in doing so her resolve weakened. They were her but they were Orys too.
Do not let the dragons take any more from me she prayed. They have already taken enough.
What Princess Argella Durrandon, the daughter of the last Sotrm King Argilac Durrandon, would wear, Marchesa After her father was slain by Orys Baratheon in a battle that would be called the Last Storm, Argella locked herself inside Storm’s End declared herself Storm Queen. However, her garrison refused to share the fate of King Argilac and revolted, delivering her to Orys naked and chained. Orys, however, removed the chains and gave her his cloak as well as food and wine.
She was later married to Orys to cement the latter’s rule over the Stormlands, and he took her family sigil of the crowned stag on gold as his own.
Orys Baratheon was the founder of House Baratheon and was the first Lord of Storm’s End. Orys was the rumored bastard half-brother of Aegon I Targaryen. He was one of Aegon’s fiercest commanders and was regarded as Aegon’s only true friend. During the War of Conquest Orys and Rhaenys Targaryen with her dragon, Meraxes, were tasked with taking Storm’s End. The Storm King, Argilac Durrendon, knew his formidable walls would not protect him from dragonfire. Argilac rode out to give open battle. Orys slew Argilac the Arrogant, the last Storm King, and married his daughter Argella. Later Orys took Argella as his wife and adopted the stag banner, honors and words of the Durrendons.