[163] A Prince’s Reckoning

Chapter 163: A Prince's Reckoning

—

Trystane Martell was not having a good day.

He paced his chambers like a caged animal. Days had passed since he received word that his "gift" had been delivered to the Dragon King's beast. He expected news of Rhaegal's death by now, but instead, only unsettling rumors filled the palace – whispers of Braavos burning, of the Iron Bank collapsing, of the Faceless Men being exterminated.

Servants rushed in and out, bringing reports that made his face grow paler with each passing hour. He crumpled another message in his fist. "It can't be true," he muttered. "Braavos is too powerful. The Iron Bank too entrenched. The Faceless Men are…!"

"Are dead," a voice announced from the doorway. "Along with anyone foolish enough to stand with them."

Trystane whirled, his face a mask of terror. Viserys Targaryen stood there, his imposing frame filling the entrance. W-what? How is he here already?! The young prince backed away until he hit the window, nowhere left to run. "You..." he choked out.

"Me," Viserys agreed, walking slowly into the room. "The man whose dragon you tried to poison. The king whose mercy you spurned. The Targaryen whose family history should have taught you better than to fuck with dragons."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Trystane stammered, his mouth dry with fear. "What poison? What dragon?"

Viserys laughed, and the sound made Trystane flinch. "Really? That's your play? Deny everything and hope I'm stupid enough to believe you?"

"I swear by the old gods and new–"

"Don't bother." Viserys waved a hand dismissively. "I've already seen the evidence. The Wyrm-Blight you obtained from the Faceless Men. The correspondence with agents in Braavos. Your pathetic little plot to avenge your wounded pride."

Trystane's eyes darted to the door, hoping for escape or rescue. He found neither. Only Arianne standing there, her expression a mixture of anger and grief that made his heart sink.

"Sister," he pleaded, "you can't believe this madman. He's–"

"Telling the truth," she finished for him, her voice hard as Dornish granite. "I've seen the evidence myself, Trystane. The poison came from you."

"You… you! You betrayed me," he whispered, feeling the last of his hope crumble.

"No, brother. You betrayed Dorne." She stepped into the room, her movements graceful despite her obvious distress. "You risked our people, our kingdom, our family's future for what? Revenge? Because I chose to rule while you sulked in the shadows?"

His face contorted with rage. "Because he stole Myrcella from me! Because he made you his whore! Because he humiliated our father and–"

His words cut off as Viserys's hand closed around his throat, lifting him off his feet with effortless strength. Trystane kicked helplessly, his lungs burning for air.

"Careful now," Viserys said softly. "That's no way to speak about your princess."

"Let him go," Arianne commanded, surprising Trystane. "He deserves a trial. Justice, not outright murder. Please."

Viserys’ eyes slowly turned to her. Trystane felt himself lowered to the ground, though Viserys's hand remained on his shoulder, fingers digging in painfully. Through watering eyes, he saw the Dragon King's face – not angry, but coldly amused.

"A trial implies there's any question of guilt. But very well. We'll have a proper audience. Let all of Sunspear witness Prince Trystane's reckoning."

****

The throne room of Sunspear was a marvel of Dornish architecture, with high, vaulted ceilings and intricate mosaic floors depicting the union of Nymeria's Rhoynar with the Andals of old Dorne. Spear-wielding guards lined the walls, their faces grim beneath polished helms.

I sat heavily on Dorne’s throne, face resting on my fist as I relaxed. Trystane stood before me, flanked by guards who'd once been loyal to him. Now they awaited my command, understanding which way the wind blew. Three dragons flew Dorne’s skies, after all.

We came sailing ships, but my dragons accompanied me. Kinvara’s wind magic sped up the ships enough that it didn’t slow us down by much. We also had an army all across Dorne.

Despite this, perhaps thanks to his delusions of grandeur, the young prince had managed to compose himself somewhat, though fear still radiated from him in waves I could almost taste.

"It feels great to return to my Kingdom after such a feisty conquest outside. Dorne feels like home. It naturally should, as its ruler is my woman.” I began, my voice carrying easily through the hall. "So it pains to hold this court with such haste. Prince Trystane Martell. You stand accused of attempted regicide through the poisoning of my dragon, Rhaegal. How do you plead?"

"Not guilty," he declared, though his voice cracked on the second word. "These accusations are–"

"Spare us, boy," Daenerys interrupted from her position at my right, her tail making a dangerous swirl in the air. "We have the evidence. The question isn't whether you did it, but why you thought you could get away with it."

Murmurs rippled through the assembled Dornish nobles. I'd ensured they all attended – lords and ladies from across Dorne, all of them needing to witness what happened when someone betrayed the Dragon King.

"Perhaps he'd like to explain himself," I suggested, leaning forward. "Give us your defense, Prince Trystane. Convince me why I shouldn't reduce Sunspear to molten glass right now."

He swallowed hard, eyes darting around the room as if seeking support. Finding none, his shoulders slumped. "I did it," he admitted finally. "I poisoned your beast. And I… I would do it again, given the chance!"

A collective gasp went up from the crowd. Even Arianne looked shocked at his admission.

"Why?" I asked simply.

"Because you took everything from me!" he shouted, newfound courage born of desperation. "You took Myrcella, the only woman I've ever loved. You took my sister, turned her against her own blood. You humiliated my father and made Dorne kneel when we've never knelt, not even to Aegon himself!"

His voice broke on the last word, and for a moment, I saw not a conspirator but a heartbroken boy trying to play at being a man. I held back a sigh. He was also worth sympathy. Almost.

"Your father lives in exile because he chose the wrong side," I said, my voice surprisingly gentle. "Your sister rules Dorne because she was clever enough to see which way the wind was blowing. And as for Myrcella..." I paused, considering my words carefully. "She serves as Lady of Casterly Rock because that was her birthright. Her feelings for you were genuine, I believe, but the game of thrones makes pawns of us all."

"You speak of games," he spat. "While you burn cities and slaughter thousands. You're no better than your father. You're the Mad King reborn! How many innocents died in the cities you burned, you bastard?! Someone needed to stop you before–"

"Enough!" Arianne stepped forward, her face tight with anger. "You stupid, reckless boy. Do you have any idea what you've done? What he could do to us all for your treachery?"

Trystane's face crumpled at his sister's rebuke. "So you stand with him, then? Against your own blood?"

"I stand for Dorne," she replied. "For our survival. For our future. Something you risked with your petty revenge plot."

I let them argue, watching the dynamics play out. This was why I'd wanted a public trial – not just to humiliate Trystane, but to show Dorne that their princess stood with me, even against her brother.

Finally, I raised a hand, silencing the room. "Prince Trystane Martell, you've admitted your guilt. You've confessed to attempting to murder my dragon, which is no different than attempting to murder me. The penalty for such treason is death."

His face went white, but he didn't beg. I had to give him that much credit. And because he didn’t look scared, I had to double down on my punishment. Stupid brat.

"However," I continued, "the manner of your death reflects on more than just you. It reflects on House Martell, on Dorne, and on your sister, who has served me loyally."

I turned to Arianne, whose face was a careful mask. "Princess Arianne, you've yet to formally bend the knee to me. An oversight we've both allowed to continue, perhaps out of mutual respect. But now I must ask… does Dorne recognize me as its king? Do you acknowledge me as your sovereign?"

The hall fell silent as a tomb. This was the moment. The public declaration that would settle Dorne's status once and for all.

Arianne stared at me, a little surprised. Or was it hurt? Regardless, she did not hesitate before sinking to one knee, her orange silks pooling around her like liquid flame.

"Dorne recognizes Viserys Targaryen as the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms," she declared, her voice steady. "I, Arianne Martell, Princess of Dorne, pledge my fealty and that of my house to the Dragon King. I apologize for delaying this, as well."

I smiled, almost moved by her submission. Sure, she submitted in the bedroom, but given our dynamic, I had a feeling she might hesitate, might argue. She didn’t. For a woman as proud as Arianne, this public kneeling cost more than any other sacrifice.

"Rise, Princess," I said softly. "Your loyalty honors me."

As she stood, our eyes met, and I saw the silent plea there. Spare him. Please.

"In recognition of Princess Arianne's loyalty and service," I announced, turning back to Trystane, "I offer you a choice, Prince Trystane. Death by dragon fire, which will be swift but agonizing. Or be locked in the dungeons, to be poisoned every day slowly, like how you poisoned my dragon."

Murmurs of surprise rippled through the hall. No one had expected mercy, least of all Trystane himself.

"This is your one chance at redemption," I continued. "Choose wisely, for there will not be another."

Trystane looked to his sister, who gave him the barest of nods. Then he looked back at me, hatred still burning in his eyes but tempered now with the instinct for survival.

"Your Grace. I choose the fl–" he started, but Ari cut him off.

“The poison. The slow death!” she shouted over him. “Trystane.”

It bothered me that she was still protecting him, still going against me. Family bond was truly a problem in this world. Difficult to overpower with dragonflames. With love of my own. Fine, I’ll accept this but also… I must remind the Martells, as well as Dorne who the true ruler was here. I had a plan. Trystane would die. But perhaps a month later than planned.

I nodded. "Your sister wants you to live for a bit more, even in pain. I shall ignore your foolish choice and listen to her. Guards, take him away."

“B-but!” Trystane tried to argue. To choose the flames.

But killing him with dragonfire won’t accomplish anything. I wouldn’t be satisfied. A message wouldn’t be sent to the common people. I had to be much more brutal this time. A mix of many things.

Dornish people were too stubborn. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t seen my dragonflames before, and yet Trystane dared act up. Killing him directly won’t set an example. I had something much worse planned.

As the guards led him away, I caught Arianne's eye. The gratitude there was mixed with something deeper, more complex. Understanding, perhaps. Or recognition that I'd given her brother more mercy than he deserved based on her words. Does she think I’ll go back on my poison promise over time and let him live? Foolish girl. He’ll die sooner.

"Thank you," she whispered when she approached me later, the crowd dispersing around us.

I touched her cheek gently. "We'll live for a long time, my dear. Hundreds of years. You might be angry with me for decades, but in the end, you'll remain by my side. Don't be so hurt by this."

Her eyes shook at the reminder of her immortality, of the centuries stretching before us. "...Huh? What do you mean?"

I smiled, letting my eyes shift to their draconic state. "You talked over him, Ari. He wanted to die to dragonflames. Am I deaf? However, I will comply. But you must as well… Along with two others."

Arianne shivered, but didn't pull away when I drew her close. Her body fit against mine perfectly, she melted, giving into her lover’s embrace. I breathed in the scent of her, jasmine and spice and the desert heat of Dorne itself.

"Just so we're clear," I murmured against her hair, "if you ever betray me like he did, your fate won't be nearly so kind."

She looked up at me, those dark eyes fathomless. "I… I know. But I never will."

"No," I agreed, seeing the truth of it. "You're far too clever for that. And so ultimately I need to teach you to stop talking against me. For your own sake. For Dorne.”

“...Huh?”

“I think it's time I bring Myrcella and your Mother home. We’ll perform a show.”

Arianne’s face went pale instantly. The names made her shiver. As someone who'd spend so much time around me, she could guess what I meant. She’d heard the stories from Yara, hadn’t she? Oh, I’d fallen in love with that kind of show. This time, it’ll be even more brutal.

I smirked and pulled her closer, kissing her deeply even as she trembled in shock. But I held her firm and wondered if this was how Aegon would have felt if he’d succeeded in conquering Dorne.

Not through fire and blood, but through a princess's submission.

The sweetest victory of all.

****

Note: Please be warned that the humiliation in this chapter is quite pronounced. Might not be everyone’s cup of tea AT ALL!

****

The guards dragged Trystane through the winding corridors of Sunspear, their grip bruising on his arms. The prince's feet stumbled over familiar stones, now seeming foreign and hostile. These same halls where he'd once played as a child now led him to imprisonment. Or worse.

"Please," he begged the guards, men he recognized, men who had once bowed to him. "This is madness! I am your prince!"

They didn't even look at him. Their loyalty had shifted like desert sand in a storm, leaving him stranded.

The dungeons of Sunspear were not as notorious as those of Casterly Rock or the Black Cells of King's Landing, but they held their own particular brand of horror. Heat rather than cold made them unbearable, the desert sun baking the stones until the air became thick enough to chew.

They threw him into a cell barely large enough to lie down in. The door clanged shut with a terrible finality.

"The Maester will be along shortly with your first... treatment," one guard said, his voice strangely flat. "King's orders."

Trystane slumped against the wall, sweat already beading on his brow. How had it come to this? He had been so certain the poison would work. The Faceless Men had assured him it was infallible, that no dragon could survive the Wyrm-Blight. They had lied, and now he would pay the price.

The Maester arrived within the hour, flanked by two more guards. His chain clinked softly as he approached, a small vial clutched in his wrinkled hands.

"Prince Trystane," the old man said, his voice heavy with regret. "I never thought to see you here."

"Then help me," Trystane pleaded. "Tell my sister this is madness! Tell her – "

"Your sister gave the order herself," the Maester interrupted, uncorking the vial. The liquid inside glowed a sickly green. "Open your mouth, my prince. It will be easier if you don't resist."

The guards pinned his arms, forcing his head back. The liquid burned going down, like swallowing liquid fire. Trystane screamed, the sound echoing off the stone walls as the poison spread through his veins.

His vision blurred, the world spinning around him. The last thing he saw before darkness claimed him was the Maester's pitying face, mouthing words that might have been an apology.

…..

Trystane awoke to soft sheets beneath him, so different from the hard stone he'd expected that for a moment he thought it all had been a terrible dream. Perhaps he was in his own chambers, and Myrcella was still his, and the Dragon King had never come to Dorne at all.

Then he tried to move and found his wrists and ankles bound.

His eyes flew open, panic surging through him. He was in a bedchamber, yes, but not his own. This room was larger, more opulent, with silks in Targaryen colors draped across the walls. He was tied to a chair, positioned directly facing an enormous bed.

And on that bed...

No.

“Ahhng, fukhhhhh daddy…”

Myrcella Lannister – his Myrcella, his betrothed, his love – was astride Viserys Targaryen, her golden hair tumbling down her back as she moved. Her slender body with that fat ass rose and fell in a rhythm that spoke of familiarity, of practice. Her face was flushed with pleasure, her green eyes half-lidded as she bit her lower lip.

"Oh, you're finally awake."

The voice came from beside him. Trystane tried to turn his head, but something was strapped across his mouth, preventing him from speaking. His sister moved into his field of vision, clad in a sheer gown that left little to the imagination. Her bronze skin gleamed in the lamplight, the curves of her body clearly visible through the thin fabric.

"This is all your fault, you know," Arianne said, her voice strangely gentle. "If you hadn't been so stubborn, this wouldn't have happened. King Viserys can be quite reasonable when not provoked."

Trystane tried to scream through the gag, but only muffled sounds emerged. Arianne sighed, stroking his hair as one might pet a disobedient dog.

"You poisoned his dragon. Did you really think there wouldn't be consequences? But our king is merciful. He could have burned you alive. Instead, he's giving you a lesson in power."

Movement from the doorway caught his attention. A woman entered, and Trystane felt his heart stop.

Mother?

Mellario of Norvos, whom he hadn't seen in years, stepped into the room. But this wasn't the dignified noblewoman he remembered. This stranger wore some kind of harem outfit, all sheer silks and strategic cutouts that displayed more than they concealed. Her dark hair was loose around her shoulders, her eyes lined with kohl.

"Ah, Lady Mellario," Viserys called from the bed, not even pausing in his activities with Myrcella. "Your son is finally with us. Come, join the celebration."

****

Mellario felt her heart twist as she saw her son bound to the chair. Oh, Trystane. My foolish, beautiful boy. She had not wanted this for him, had begged Viserys to show mercy, to simply exile him as he'd done with Doran. But her son's attempt to kill a dragon could not go unanswered.

And so she had made her choice. Not between Viserys and Trystane, but between Trystane alive and humiliated or Trystane dead and forgotten.

"My king," she said, approaching the bed with a grace that belied her inner turmoil. "You are too kind to include me in your... diversions."

Viserys laughed, the sound resonating with power that made her skin prickle. Since his return from Braavos, he had changed. Grown taller, stronger, more inhuman in subtle ways that both terrified and excited her. His violet eyes seemed to glow in the dimness of the chamber, tracking her movement with predatory interest.

"Don't be shy," he said, reaching out a hand to her while his other gripped Myrcella's hip, guiding the girl's movements. "I want your son to understand exactly what his actions have cost him. Everything and everyone he loves, now mine to command."

On the bed, Myrcella moaned, seemingly oblivious to the new arrival or the bound prince, far too lost in pleasure. Her golden hair cascaded down her back, a sharp contrast to the honey-bronze of her skin, darkened by the Dornish sun. Her small breasts bounced with each movement, tipped with pink nipples drawn tight with pleasure.

"Please, Your Grace," the Lannister girl gasped, her voice higher than usual. "I need – "

"Patience," Viserys commanded, his hand sliding up to caress her breast. "We have all night, and our audience is just settling in."

Mellario felt Arianne's hand at her waist, guiding her closer to the bed. Her daughter's touch was gentle but insistent.

"Mother," Arianne whispered, her silver eyes dancing with something between apology and anticipation. "It's easier if you don't resist. Trust me."

And she did trust her daughter, who had navigated these treacherous waters far longer than she. Arianne had transformed from the rebellious girl Mellario remembered into a woman who understood power and its uses. If this was the price of keeping their family alive, then so be it.

Viserys's eyes locked with hers, and she felt that familiar heat bloom in her cunt. Whatever else he might be – conqueror, king, monster – he was magnificent to behold. His silver-white hair spilled across the pillows, his muscled body moving with controlled power beneath Myrcella's smaller form.

"Come here," he commanded, and her feet moved of their own accord. What a man.

She joined them on the massive bed, the silk sheets cool against her knees. Viserys's free hand tangled in her hair, pulling her down for a kiss that was more claim than affection. She yielded to it, opening her mouth to his tongue as he explored her with leisurely dominance.

From the chair, she heard her son's muffled protests.

****

Viserys watched Trystane's eyes bulge as he kissed the prince's mother deeply, his tongue dominating hers while his cock continued to drive up into Myrcella's tight pussy. The humiliation in Trystane's gaze was exactly what he'd hoped for – the understanding that everything he'd held dear now belonged to Viserys.

This is what happens when you fuck with dragons, boy.

"Your Grace," Myrcella whimpered, her pace faltering as her thighs began to tremble. "I can't... I'm going to..."

"Not yet," he commanded, gripping her hip tightly enough to bruise. "You cum when I allow it, not before. Understood, slut?”

Her green eyes widened, but she nodded, biting her lower lip as she struggled to control her body's response. Sweet, obedient Myrcella. She'd come so far from the frightened girl he'd taken from Dorne, transformed into an eager participant in his pleasures. The flush on her cheeks had spread down her neck to her small, perfect breasts, nipples hard as pebbles as she fought against her building climax.

Arianne had joined them on the bed now, her hands expertly removing what little clothing her mother still wore. Mellario's body was revealed inch by inch – fuller than her daughter's, with the lush curves of maturity, her breasts still high and firm despite having borne three children. Her bronze skin gleamed in the candlelight, the silver stretch marks across her belly and thighs only adding to her allure.

"Guide her into position," Viserys told Arianne, enjoying the way the princess immediately obeyed. She arranged her mother on all fours beside them, facing Trystane directly. The symbolism wasn't subtle, but subtlety wasn't the point. He wanted the message beaten into Trystane with all the finesse of a war hammer.

You are nothing. I am everything.

Viserys lifted Myrcella off him, her whimper of disappointment music to his ears. Her cunt was soaked, glistening in the lamplight as he positioned her to face Trystane as well. A thin strand of her arousal stretched between her thigh and his cock, evidence of how wet she'd become for him.

"Tell the prince what you think of his pathetic assassination attempt," he commanded her, running his hand down her spine, fingers trailing over each vertebra like he was playing a musical instrument.

Myrcella's green eyes – so like her mother's, yet softer, more innocent despite everything – met Trystane's. For a moment, Viserys saw genuine regret there, perhaps even a flicker of the affection they'd once shared. Her golden hair cascaded over her shoulders, partially obscuring her small, perfect breasts.

Then she spoke, her voice clear and steady. "You were a fool, Trystane. King Viserys is not just our ruler, he's a force of nature. A god among men. Fighting him is like fighting the tide – it only leaves you drowned."

A tear slipped down her cheek, but her gaze never wavered from Trystane's. "I used to dream of you at night, did you know that? Even after being taken to Casterly Rock, I would close my eyes and imagine our life together." She laughed, the sound hollow and cruel. "Such childish fantasies. I've been awakened to what real pleasure is, what real power feels like. Only real men like my King can give pleasure like this. Not you. Never you. You, who didn't think twice about what Dorne and its people would do if an angry King Viserys attacked it with his dragon.”

Viserys felt a rush of satisfaction at her words. Myrcella had learned her lessons well. He rewarded her by sliding his hand between her thighs, fingers finding her swollen clit. She gasped, arching into his touch like a cat.

"And who do you belong to now?" he asked, circling the sensitive nub with deliberate slowness. She gasped, arching back against him.

"You, Your Grace. Always you." Her voice broke as he pressed harder. "O-only… only you. Forever ♡."

Viserys moved behind Mellario, admiring the curve of her ass as she waited on hands and knees. She glanced back at him, her eyes heavy with resignation and desire both. This was a woman who understood compromise, who had left her husband rather than bend to his will, but who now bent for Viserys to save her son's life.

"And you, Lady Mellario? Tell your son who you belong to." His hand came down on her ass with a sharp crack that echoed through the chamber. She yelped, the handprint blooming red almost instantly.

She didn't hesitate. "I am yours, Dragon King. Body and soul." Her voice was husky, tinged with a mix of shame and undeniable arousal. The wetness between her thighs betrayed her true feelings, regardless of what her face might show.

“Good answer, slut.” Viserys slid into her with one powerful thrust, savoring her strangled cry. She was tight but ready.

Her body betrayed her true desires despite the complicated emotions in her eyes. He established a punishing rhythm, each thrust driving her forward so she had to brace herself to avoid collapsing. The slap of skin against skin filled the room, punctuated by Mellario's increasingly desperate moans.

“F-fuck…” she cried for him as he pushed her head into the pillow, making her bite the sheets. “That feels… that feels so good!”

"Arianne," he called, not breaking stride. "Show your brother how eager you are to please your king."

Trystane's shame wasn't just about seeing his mother and former betrothed claimed. It was about witnessing his sister's willingness – no, eagerness – to participate. Arianne moved with feline grace, positioning herself between Viserys's legs and Mellario's, her tongue darting out to taste where her mother and Viserys joined.

Fucking Dornish and their casual attitude toward sex, Viserys thought with amusement. If I tried this in the North, I'd probably be dealing with a revolt.

But here in Dorne, the taboo only added spice to the proceedings. Arianne's skilled tongue moved from her mother's clit to his shaft as he continued to thrust, adding a new dimension of pleasure that made him groan. Her silver eyes flicked up to meet his, filled with wicked delight at their shared transgression.

There was nothing more satisfying than breaking one man by fucking three women from his life.

Viserys pulled out of Mellario, giving Arianne better access. The princess lapped eagerly at her mother's arousal, making the older woman moan in shocked pleasure. Her tongue delved deep, gathering the mixture of Mellario's juices and Viserys's pre-cum, before she turned to show Trystane her glistening lips.

"Do you see, brother?" she called to him, her voice husky with desire. "This is what submission tastes like. This is the flavor of true power." She licked her lips deliberately, making sure he could see every movement of her tongue.

Viserys moved to Myrcella, who had been waiting patiently, her slim body trembling with need. She'd been touching herself, unable to resist the temptation, her fingers glistening with her own wetness.

"Did I give you permission to pleasure yourself?" he asked, his voice deceptively soft.

She froze, eyes widening in alarm. "N-no, Your Grace. I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself."

"Dirty slut. Just like your mother. Turn around," he commanded her. "Face him while I take you. And put those fingers in your mouth. Taste yourself while he watches."

She obeyed immediately, positioning herself on hands and knees and sucking her fingers clean with a moan that made his cock throb with need. Viserys entered her from behind, much gentler than he'd been with Mellario. Myrcella was smaller, more delicate, and required a different touch. Her pussy gripped him like a silken vise, hot and slick with her arousal.

"You're so tight, little lioness," he murmured, loud enough for Trystane to hear. "So perfect around my cock. I can feel you quivering, desperate to cum. You want to cum for your king?”

She whimpered, pushing back against him. "Please, Your Grace. Please let me..."

"Look at him," he told her, gripping her golden hair and pulling her head up. "Let him see how much you love this. Let him see what he lost by being a weakling."

Myrcella's eyes locked with Trystane's, her face flushed with pleasure as Viserys drove into her. Tears streamed down her cheeks, whether from physical pleasure or emotional pain, it was impossible to tell. "I'm sorry," she whispered, though whether to Trystane or to herself, Viserys couldn't tell. "But this is where I belong now."

"Tell him how it feels," Viserys commanded, his pace increasing. "Be specific."

“You're so rude, daddy…” She swallowed hard. Then she narrated for Trystane, "He fills me completely, stretches me in ways I never knew possible. When he's inside me, I feel whole. Complete." Her voice grew stronger as she continued, her shame giving way to the truth of her pleasure. "The way he moves, the way he touches me... it's like nothing I could have imagined. I've never felt so alive, so... owned. I love being owned by my king.”

Viserys fucked her with long, deep strokes, each one drawing a sweet moan from her lips. Her back arched beautifully, her small breasts swaying with each thrust. On the bed beside them, Arianne had brought her mother to a shuddering climax with her mouth, Mellario's cries filling the chamber as she collapsed onto the sheets, limbs quivering with aftershocks.

"Cum for me now, Myrcella," Viserys whispered in her ear. "Show your former betrothed what real pleasure looks like."

The permission was all she needed. “Oh-” Myrcella's orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, her inner walls clenching around him in rhythmic pulses as she cried out his name. “Hannghhhh!” Her entire body shook with the force of it, her back arching impossibly as she gave herself over to the sensation. Her cries echoed off the stone walls, high and desperate, nothing like the demure princess she'd once been.

"Come here," Viserys ordered Arianne, releasing Myrcella's hair to beckon the Dornish princess. She crawled to him, eyes dark with desire. He pulled her by the waist, giving her a sweet, hot kiss.

Arianne's anger, the little she hid behind her eyes until now, melted at his kiss. She couldn't resist this man at all.

He added, "Show your brother how a true princess submits to her king."

Arianne positioned herself beside Myrcella, their bodies forming a perfect contrast – Myrcella all golden fairness, Arianne bronze and lush. The princess spread herself open with her fingers, revealing her already wet and glistening pussy, the dark pink of her inner lips glistening with arousal.

"Please, my king," she purred, her voice a seductive melody that made even Mellario glance over with renewed interest. "Use me as you wish. Use me while my dumb pathetic brother watches with his tiny cock throbs hard for me ♡…”

Viserys withdrew from Myrcella, leaving her whimpering with need, and plunged into Arianne without preamble. She cried out, her body accepting him fully despite his size. He set a brutal pace, driving into her with enough force to push her up the bed. Each thrust made her full breasts bounce, the dark nipples hard with excitement.

"Tell your brother," he growled, his hand fisting in her dark curls. "Tell him who rules Dorne now."

Arianne's eyes locked with Trystane's, defiance warring with submission in her gaze. Then she surrendered, as Viserys had known she would.

"Viserys Targaryen rules Dorne," she gasped between thrusts. "The Dragon King owns us all." Her nails dug into his shoulders, leaving crescent moons that would fade within minutes thanks to his enhanced healing. "He owns me, mother, Myrcella... everyone you've ever loved. And this… all this is your fault."

She reached for Trystane, though he was far across the room. "Can you see how wet I am for him, brother? How eagerly I take him? T-this… this is what true power does to a woman. Makes her desperate, willing, hungry."

Viserys slapped her ass hard, the crack of skin on skin making Myrcella jump beside them. Arianne only moaned louder, pushing back against him.

"Harder," she begged, her voice hoarse. "Make me feel it, my king. Show my brother how thoroughly you've conquered his family. Show my brother what a dirty slut his sister is for you, for your strong, fat cock~ Ahhnggh…!”

Viserys obliged, his pace becoming punishing, each thrust bottoming out inside her. Arianne screamed in pleasure, her body convulsing as she came around him, her inner muscles clenching like a vise. He didn't slow, fucking her through her orgasm until she was babbling incoherently, tears streaming down her face from the overwhelming sensation.

The women took turns pleasuring each other at his command while he moved between them, claiming each in different positions. Myrcella rode him while Mellario sat on his face. Arianne bent over the edge of the bed while he took her from behind, her mother's fingers bringing her to climax. The combinations were endless, limited only by imagination and stamina.

At one point, he had all three women kneeling before him, taking turns sucking his cock while the others kissed and caressed his body. The sight was glorious – three generations of beauty, all worshipping him as he deserved.

"Look at your former fiancée, Trystane," Viserys called out as Myrcella took him deep in her throat, her green eyes watering with the effort. "See how eagerly she swallows me? How she's learned to take me to the root without gagging?" He stroked her hair affectionately. "Such a good girl. So eager to please her king."

Mellario and Arianne knelt on either side of Myrcella, occasionally leaning in to lick along the shaft when Myrcella pulled back for air. They worked together in perfect harmony, as if they'd been doing this for years instead of hours.

"I have to agree. Your mother has the most talented tongue. Man, what a slut." Viserys continued, his eyes never leaving Trystane's tortured face. "She does this thing where she flutters it just under the head... ah, yes, just like that." He groaned as Mellario demonstrated, her experienced mouth bringing him exquisite pleasure. "I can see where your sister learned her skills."

And through it all, Trystane watched, unable to look away, unable to protest. His humiliation was complete, total. The message was clear. Everything he had ever wanted, ever loved, belonged to Viserys Targaryen now.

By the time Viserys finally decided to end his torment, all three women lay exhausted on the bed, their bodies marked with the evidence of his passion. Bites, handprints, the sheen of sweat and other fluids making their skin glow in the lamplight. Myrcella curled against Mellario's side, her golden hair stark against the older woman's bronze skin. Arianne lay sprawled on her back, legs still spread, the evidence of Viserys's multiple releases visible on her inner thighs.

"Ohn… Aahh… Thank… thank you, my king," Arianne murmured, her voice hoarse from screaming. "For showing… showing us… true pleasure."

"For showing us where we belong," Mellario added, her hand stroking Myrcella's hair tenderly.

"For making us yours," Myrcella finished, her green eyes heavy-lidded with satisfaction.

Viserys approached Trystane, still gloriously naked, his body unmarked by fatigue despite hours of exertion. His cock stood proud and hard, seemingly insatiable, declaring his inhuman stamina.

"This is power," he told him quietly. "Not poison or schemes or petty revenge. This–" he gestured to the women, to the room, to himself "–is why dragons ruled the world. Remember that when you're freezing to your death in the dark dungeons. Or… when you bite your tongue off to short your suffering."

He yanked Arianne by the hair, throwing her on the floor, then raising her face to shove his cock inside. She didn't seem to mind at all, the way she smiled with his cock in her mouth, giggling with her eyes rolled up. She looked drunk in pleasure.

Viserys made sure Trystane could see every movement as he went in and out of his sister's mouth, very slowly and very deliberately. "I'll think of this night often when I'm with them in the future. Perhaps I'll tell them to call me by your name occasionally, just for the novelty." His smile was cruel, calculated. "Would you like that, Trystane? To know that even in your absence, I'm making them scream your name while I fuck them? That I'll make Arianne call me ‘brother’, Mellario call me ‘son’, and Myrcella call me ‘husband’?”

Trystane cursed him a thousand named, but his voice remained muffled. King Viserys just grinned at him in response.

The guards came to take him away then, his eyes haunted by what he'd witnessed. He would live, as Viserys had promised Arianne. But Viserys suspected that after tonight, part of him would wish his choice of dragonfire had been accepted instead.

Sometimes, living with defeat is a far greater punishment than death.

This will be an example. They would make no songs of this night, and the memory would haunt House Martell and Dorne for generations to come.

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