[125] The Lannister Pawn

Chapter 125: The Lannister Pawn

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Arianne's smile froze on her face. The playfulness in her silver eyes extinguished like a candle in a storm.

"Myrcella?" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "You mean Myrcella Baratheon?"

I watched the transformation with fascination. How quickly desire could turn to dread. How swiftly passion could morph into panic. It was almost amusing to see the fierce Dornish princess, who had proudly defied her father and helped topple his rule, now trembling. For what reason, I wondered.

Without warning, Arianne grabbed my wrist. "Not here," she hissed, pulling me away from the courtyard where curious eyes watched our reunion.

She led us through a side entrance into a secluded garden, lush with orange trees and flowering vines that smelled heavy of sweetness. Daenerys followed silently, her draconic features drawing nervous glances from the palace guards who kept a respectful distance.

When we were safely alone among the greenery, Arianne turned to face me. Gone was the seductive temptress who had greeted me moments ago. In her place stood a woman who was obviously scared.

"Viserys," she began, her voice uncharacteristically urgent. Her hands came up to rest on my chest, and despite her distress, I couldn't help noticing how the movement caused her breasts to strain against the thin silk of her gown. "Myrcella... she's been like a little sister to me here. She's innocent in all of this."

Her silver eyes bored into mine, desperate and pleading. "Whatever grievances you have with the Lannisters, she had no part in them. She wasn’t even born when her family wronged yours, and she’s far different than her cruel brother Joffrey."

Daenerys observed with quiet interest, her tail swishing slowly behind her. "You seem quite attached to the Lannister girl.”

Arianne didn't even look at my sister. Her gaze remained locked on mine, her fingers now clutching the front of my tunic. "Please, I implore you," she whispered, the words seeming to physically pain her. "Whatever you plan, do not harm her. She's suffered enough with her family's downfall."

I'd never seen Arianne like this. She, who had so proudly claimed Dorne in my name, now reduced to begging for a Lannister girl's life. It was... unexpected.

"I'll do anything," she continued, desperation making her reckless. "I'll give you anything you ask. Just promise me you won't hurt her."

A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. I couldn't help it.

"Harm her?" I raised an eyebrow, letting the moment stretch, watching the fear build in those silver eyes. Then I laughed—not cruelly, but with genuine amusement. "Arianne, my dear, you wound me. Do you truly think I'd fly all this way, with my dear sister no less, simply to torment a young girl?"

Confusion crept across her face, her full lips parting slightly.

"Quite the opposite," I continued. "I'm here to elevate her. Myrcella Baratheon is to be the new Lady of Casterly Rock. Or perhaps we'll call her its Queen, for appearances."

Sometimes the greatest cruelty is disguised as kindness.

Arianne's hands dropped from my chest as she blinked. "Lady... of Casterly Rock?" The words came out slowly, as if she couldn't quite comprehend them. "But... why?"

Daenerys leaned against an orange tree, plucking a fruit and examining it with casual interest. "My brother has always had a flair for the dramatic," she said, digging a claw into the orange's skin and peeling it with effortless precision. "Though I must admit, I too was surprised by this particular scheme."

I began pacing, energy coursing through me as I outlined my plan. "Don’t worry, I won’t harm her. The Westerlands have been conquered, but they need a ruler—someone the people will accept. What better choice than a Lannister by blood? Myrcella will be my puppet, my tool for controlling the Lannister wealth while maintaining the appearance of honoring their bloodline."

Arianne's eyes widened as understanding dawned. Relief that Myrcella would live warred with new concerns over the girl's fate.

"You're using her," she said softly.

"Of course I am," I replied without hesitation. "That's what kings and emperors do with their subjects—we use them. Some for their strength, some for their wisdom, some for their beauty." My eyes lingered on the curves of her body, visible through the sheer Dornish silk. "And some for their name."

In my previous life, I'd watched this world unfold on a screen, seen how the game was played. Tywin Lannister had always understood this brutal truth—people were pieces to be moved across the board. Cersei had tried to emulate him but lacked his strategic mind. I would take the best lessons from all of them.

"She'll be treated well," I added, seeing the concern still etched on Arianne's face. "Better than most. She'll have comfort, protection, even a measure of power—she just won't have freedom. A fair trade, I'd say, for a member of a defeated house."

Arianne's political mind was working now, I could see it in her eyes. The initial panic had subsided, replaced by the calculating intelligence that had made her such a formidable ally.

"And the betrothal to my brother? That was arranged by Tyrion Lannister himself."

Daenerys snorted, popping a segment of orange into her mouth. "Tyrion Lannister is a valuable part of my own Queendom now, but even so, I must say… Arrangements made by defeated men mean nothing," she said, echoing my own thoughts.

I nodded in agreement. "Your brother will need to find another bride. One more politically advantageous to House Martell's current standing."

Arianne took a deep breath, her chest rising enticingly. Part of me wanted to reach out and touch her, remind her of her place in my bed rather than as Myrcella's advocate. But I restrained myself. This conversation wasn't finished.

"I understand the strategic value," she said carefully. "But Trystane... he's quite fond of her. And she of him."

"Young love," Daenerys mused, her violet eyes distant. "So passionate, so fleeting."

"So irrelevant," I added. "When have the feelings of young lords and ladies ever mattered in the great game? But I'm not completely heartless, Arianne. Perhaps I'll allow her to visit Dorne occasionally, to maintain... diplomatic relations between our regions."

Arianne's expression remained troubled, but she nodded slowly. "Will you at least let me be there when you tell her? She trusts me. It might ease the shock."

Trust is the most valuable currency, and the easiest to counterfeit.

I considered this for a moment, then nodded. "Very well. Where is she?"

"The Water Gardens," Arianne replied. "With Trystane."

"Then we should go there immediately," I said, offering my arm to her. "Lead the way, Princess."

Arianne hesitated only briefly before placing her hand on my forearm. Her touch was cooler than usual, her manner subdued. This wasn't the passionate woman who had wrapped herself around me minutes ago, but a princess navigating treacherous political waters.

As we walked, Daenerys fell into step beside us, finishing her orange with delicate, sharp-toothed bites. "I must say, brother," she remarked, "you've become quite the schemer. Mother would be proud," she said, even though she’d never met the sweet woman.

"Father too," I replied with a dark smile. "Though for entirely different reasons."

In my previous life, I'd seen how the Mad King's cruelty had torn the realm apart. I'd also seen how Robert Baratheon's negligence had done the same. Between madness and indifference lay a narrow path—calculated ruthlessness tempered with strategic mercy.

That was the path I walked now, with Myrcella Baratheon as my latest pawn.

****

The Water Gardens of Dorne were a paradise of marble and flowing water, a place where the harshness of the desert gave way to cool shade and gentle beauty. Fountains bubbled in every corner, and exotic plants created secluded alcoves perfect for youthful romance.

It was in one such alcove that we found them.

Myrcella Baratheon sat on a marble bench beside a handsome young man who could only be Trystane Martell. Her golden hair gleamed in the dappled sunlight, and her profile reminded me startlingly of Cersei's—though softer, unmarked by years of bitterness and scheming. She wore a light Dornish dress that revealed her slender arms and shoulders, bronzed by the southern sun.

They were leaning close, their foreheads nearly touching, lost in whispered conversation. His hand rested gently on hers, his expression earnest and tender. It was a scene of innocent sweetness, untouched by the chaos that had engulfed the rest of the realm.

Until we shattered it.

"Myrcella," Arianne called out, her voice unnaturally bright. "There's someone here to see you."

The pair looked up, startled by the interruption. Trystane's expression shifted from annoyance to confusion as he took in his sister's strained smile. Then his eyes found me, and the blood drained from his face.

Myrcella's reaction was slower, more confused. At that moment, I checked her out. She looked like some golden nymph born of silk and sunshine. Her dress was light, flowing, and too thin for any real modesty. It was natural to dress Dornish while staying in its water gardens, I suppose.

The dress clung to her curves like it was afraid to let go. Her arms and shoulders were kissed by the Dornish sun, her skin smooth and glowing with youth. Long golden hair tumbled down her back in soft waves, catching the light like spun gold, and her green eyes…

Those famous Lannister eyes held the kind of softness that hadn't yet learned how cruel the world could be. It was somehow proof enough of her purity.

She looked from Arianne to me, recognition dawning gradually. When it hit, her eyes widened with pure terror. A small, strangled sound escaped her throat as she shrank against Trystane's side.

The boy, for despite his height and princely bearing, he was still just a boy, immediately shifted to place himself between Myrcella and me. His hand instinctively moved to the dagger at his belt.

"What do you want with her?" he demanded, his voice cracking slightly despite his attempt at bravado.

In another lifetime, I might have admired his courage. Standing up to a king, a dragon, a conqueror—it took either extraordinary bravery or extraordinary stupidity. Perhaps both.

"Brother, Myrcella," Arianne said, stepping forward with forced calm. "This is King Viserys. He wishes to speak with you, Myrcella." The strain in her voice was evident, despite her best efforts.

I ignored Trystane completely, focusing my attention on the golden-haired girl whose green eyes were wide with fear. "Myrcella Baratheon," I said, my voice deliberately mild. "No, Lannister. I have a proposition for you."

"She's my betrothed," Trystane interrupted, his grip tightening on his dagger's hilt. "By an agreement with the previous King's Hand, Tyrion Lannister, who serves your sister now!" His eyes flicked briefly to Daenerys, who watched the scene unfold with detached curiosity. "You have no right to simply command her!"

Youth mistakes courage for wisdom and passion for strength.

I turned my gaze to him, finally acknowledging his existence with a cold, dismissive look. "Agreements made by defeated kings and their servants hold little weight with me, boy. Dorne is mine now, and all within it are subject to my will. Stand aside."

I allowed just a hint of my power to surface—a flash of draconic light in my eyes, the barest whisper of wind in the air around me as my wings almost unfolded. Nothing ostentatious, but enough to remind everyone present exactly what they were dealing with.

The boy paled but held his ground, his knuckles white on the dagger's hilt.

"Trystane, please!" Arianne's voice was urgent now, tinged with genuine fear. "Listen to him. This is not what you think." She moved to her brother's side, placing a restraining hand on his arm. "Please. For Dorne. For yourself."

Myrcella finally found her voice, though it came out as barely more than a whisper. "What... what proposition?" she asked, her green eyes darting between my face and Daenerys's horned visage.

I smiled, pleased by her directness despite her fear. Perhaps there was more to this girl than just Cersei's beauty and Tywin's name.

"I am taking you back to Casterly Rock," I announced, watching her expression carefully. "You will be its Lady. You will rule in your family's name, under my authority."

Myrcella's mouth opened slightly, disbelief replacing some of the fear in her eyes. "Rule Casterly Rock?" she repeated, as if the words made no sense. "After you... after what you did to my family?" Her voice gained strength as confusion gave way to suspicion. "Is this some cruel jest? A trap?"

"No jest," I assured her. "No trap. Simply the practical solution to a political problem."

Trystane's hand dropped from his dagger as the implications sank in. "You expect her to be your puppet?" he accused, his youthful face twisted with indignation. Then his eyes widened with a new realization. "No... you... you want her to bear your child and rule, is that it?"

An interesting conclusion for the boy to jump to, and entirely logical given the twisted history of royal politics. He was a smart young man. I didn't confirm or deny his accusation, letting the suspicion hang in the air.

"You will have advisors," I continued, addressing Myrcella directly. "You will ensure the loyalty of the Westerlands to the crown. You will oversee the management of Lannister wealth, much of which will flow to the royal treasury."

I took a step closer, and despite Trystane's attempt to shield her, Myrcella's eyes remained locked on mine, like a rabbit mesmerized by a snake.

"Cooperate, and you will live comfortably, Myrcella," I said softly. "Defy me, and you will find your life far less pleasant. Your mother learned this lesson. I heard you are a faster study."

The color drained completely from her face at the mention of Cersei.

"M-Mother?" she stammered. "Where is she? What have you done to her?"

Daenerys stepped forward, sighing. Her scaled face softened slightly as she regarded the frightened girl. "Your mother lives," she said, her voice gentler than I'd expected. "You can meet her if you come to Casterly Rock with us. Perhaps her life depends on your cooperation, as yours depends on hers."

This wasn't something we had explicitly discussed, but I nodded in agreement. Hostages ensured compliance—another lesson from this brutal world.

Myrcella's shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of her. "I have no choice, do I?" she whispered.

"We always have choices," I replied. "Some are simply more painful than others."

Trystane turned to his sister, desperation in his eyes. "Dear sister, you can't let this happen! Father arranged this match, you can't—"

"Father is no longer in power," Arianne cut him off, her voice tight with suppressed emotion. "King Viserys rules Dorne now. And his will is law."

Power isn't about who's right—it's about who's left.

The boy's face crumpled, raw anguish replacing indignation. He turned back to Myrcella, taking her hands in his. "I won't let this happen," he promised, his voice breaking. "I'll find a way to—"

"Trystane, please," Myrcella interrupted, tears streaming down her face. "Don't. There's nothing you can do. I... I have to go with him."

Her maturity in that moment was striking. Perhaps growing up as Cersei's daughter had taught her when to fight and when to yield. Or perhaps, like her grandfather, she knew how to play the long game.

I cleared my throat, drawing all eyes back to me. "You will depart with us tomorrow morning. Pack only what you need—Casterly Rock will provide the rest."

Myrcella nodded numbly, her green eyes vacant with shock.

"Arianne will help you prepare," I added, glancing at the Dornish princess whose face was a careful mask of neutrality. "Won't you, my dear?"

Arianne inclined her head slightly. "Of course, Your Grace."

"Excellent." I turned to leave, then paused, looking back at Trystane. "Oh, and boy? That dagger you were fingering? If you'd drawn it, I would have fed you to my dragon piece by piece while Myrcella watched. And that warning remains true if you spend any more time with her after I walk away. I need the Lady to be pure."

The youth blanched, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.

With that final threat hanging in the air, I strode away, Daenerys falling into step beside me as we left the shattered remains of young love behind us.

"Was that necessary?" she asked quietly once we were out of earshot.

"Which part?"

"The threat at the end. The boy was already defeated. Plus, Arianne was there."

I shrugged. "He's young, proud, and Dornish. A dangerous combination. Better he fears me absolutely than harbors some foolish notion of rescuing his beloved." Plus, I had to warn him about what’d happen if he dared touch her ‘one last time’.

Although the chances were low, Myrcella might still be a virgin, given her pure character. I’d prefer it to remain that way for my future child.

Daenerys didn't look convinced. "You enjoy it, don't you? The fear."

I smiled, watching a distant dragon wheel through the clear blue sky. In my past life, I'd watched Myrcella die tragically, poisoned by Ellaria Sand in an act of misguided vengeance.

This time, she would serve a greater purpose—another piece on my board, another resource to be utilized. Objectively, this was a better fate than death, no?

“Perhaps,” I said.

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