As she settles into the seat and stares out at the throne room of her ancestors, Daenerys knows she has no right to be mad. While this is not the Iron Throne and nor is it King’s Landing, the city that Aegon the Conqueror built, it is still Dragonstone. House Targaryen’s Ancestral Seat is hers… and yet, Daenerys is a bit disappointed.
 
Drogon slinks along in the background and she can feel the amusement of her most belligerent child. Though at this point, they are far more than simply mother and son, aren’t they? Daenerys shudders as she feels a warmth between her legs, and the arousal only builds further when Drogon, sensing her moment of weakness, strikes with mental desires of her own.
 
Tossing him a sharp glance and as sharp a mental rebuke as she can manage, Daenerys is admittedly relieved when Drogon does not push things. She’s not so sure she could have put up much more resistance before succumbing to her desire to wrap her naked body around his cock… and in front of all of these people, that would be unseemly.
 
Focusing on said people, the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms stares in silence at the three women brought before her. These three were all that was left of Dragonstone’s leadership, supposedly. A Red Priestess, a widowed lady, and an orphaned girl. Drogon had been very… thorough in wiping out the knights under Stannis’ command, and as far as she could tell from his satisfied feelings, he’d started with Stannis Baratheon himself.
 
Good. Daenerys would not suffer a Baratheon to live… except for Myrcella… and perhaps this young, marred girl that Stannis had beget. Pressing her lips together, Daenerys amends her inner thought. She would not suffer a MALE Baratheon to live. Yes, that sounded much better. The Usurper’s line needed to be snuffed out, but women and girls were no threat to her.
 
Drogon sends a burst of approval her way, and then a burst of desire for the marred girl. Daenerys can’t help herself, her head whips around and she stares at Drogon with wide violet eyes. The Dragon swiftly amends his ‘statement’. His desire for the marred girl is not to mate with her (as Daenerys assumes he’s doing with pretty much every other woman he’s collected) but because the remnants of the girl’s greyscale make her look part draconic in appearance.
 
… Her dragon is an odd one. But Daenerys has probably left everyone waiting long enough, even if it is her right as Queen to do so.
 
“My ladies… please stand and approach.”
 
The two women and the girl rise from their knees to their feet and shuffle forward together. Daenerys regards each of them in silence. The Red Priestess looks completely lost, despite appearing older in age than Kinvara. Daenerys is surprised by this. Kinvara has never appeared as anything but confident, and given she’s the only example until now that the Targaryen woman has had with the Red God’s servants, she’d expected similar from this Melisandre. Instead, the crimson haired woman seems utterly confused.
 
Meanwhile, Selyse Florent, Stannis Baratheon’s widow, appears to be quite cross. She’s glaring at Daenerys as if the silver-haired woman is a monster. Still, Daenerys can understand where the anger is coming from. She can only hope that they can get past that. She has no wish to kill the widow.
 
And then finally, there’s little Shireen. The only child of Stannis Baratheon appears to be an equal mixture of afraid and curious. There is a wariness to her eyes that belies her age, but she can’t seem to stop glancing to Drogon, studying every bit of him, not like a girl worried that she’s about to get eaten, but like one wondering what it would be like to pet his scales and ride on his back.
 
Daenerys can’t help but smile at that honest curiosity. It only solidifies her desire not to kill Shireen Baratheon.
 
The prisoners stop a dozen paces from Daenerys’ dais. Focusing her violet eyes on Selyse Florent, Daenerys purses her lips.
 
“Lady Florent. I have taken Dragonstone. Your husband is dead. I do not require a formal surrender, but it would be appropriate for you to give one now.”
 
Selyse stiffens visibly and her jaw clenches as she straightens to her full, not-at-all considerable height.
 
“No.”
 
That gets a blink from Daenerys and surprised murmurings from those in the hall. Hell, even Selyse’s daughter is looking at her in confusion.
 
“No?”
 
Stannis’ widow shakes her head back and forth.
 
“No. My husband is not dead. You cannot have killed him, he is the Lord of Light’s chosen, his Azor Ahai. My Stannis is the Prince Who Was Promised, the one who pulled Lightbringer from the flames! I-If you think he is dead, then he has merely retreated temporarily, to regroup and return stronger than ever! I will not surrender this keep, because you have not truly taken it, not yet!”
 
The woman is beside herself and Daenerys is incredulous. Looking to the Red Priestess, this Melisandre, Daenerys finds guilt on the other woman’s face. Glancing to her own Red Priestess, the Targaryen woman finds only pity in Kinvara’s eyes and the slight downturn of her lips. A sigh leaves Daenerys and she focuses her attention on Melisandre.
 
“Red Priestess.”
 
Melisandre startles and Selyse falls silent as she looks to the woman who has filled her head with such lies. Stiffening as everyone looks to her, Melisandre composes herself swiftly enough and then bows her head.
 
“Your Grace.”
 
Selyse lets out a horrified gasp at the minor acknowledgement of Daenerys’ title.
 
“I have it on good authority from MY Red Priestess that I am the One Who Was Promised. I am told that my dragons, as well as my freeing of the slaves in Astapor and Yunkai, has played a hand in the prophecy. I am told that I will be needed in the Great War to come. Pray tell, which of you is telling the truth and to whom? Was Stannis truly the world’s savior, or is it I? Because I confess, we are all in deep trouble if the charred corpse digesting in my Drogon’s stomach truly is the one who will save us all.”
 
Melisandre has grown paler and paler, the longer that Daenerys speaks. When the young Queen finishes, her eyes dart over to Kinvara’s smug smile and she licks her lips, wetting them slightly.
 
“I would… I would not presume to High Priestess of Volantis, she who is the Flame of Truth, the Light of Wisdom, and the First Servant of the Lord of Light. It would seem… I have erred.”
 
There are several reactions to Melisandre’s words. Daenerys is shocked, as Kinvara had introduced herself as nothing but a simple Red Priestess. Certainly nothing special, certainly not someone with four titles. The Targaryen woman couldn’t help but look at her advisor in a new light, and not an entirely positive one at that.
 
Meanwhile, Kinvara herself stiffens slightly, though the smile on her face does not dim, it merely becomes slightly fake as she stares at Melisandre’s seemingly contrite form. The other woman has admitted failure, while at the same time pinpointing and striking at the only weak point in the relationship between Kinvara and the Queen. This one is not to be underestimated.
 
And then of course, there is Selyse Florent.
 
“W-What?”
 
The hall is silent, and the widow’s single broken word is heard by all as she stares in horror at Melisandre. The Red Priestess turns to her, apologetic and contrite in every fiber of her being.
 
“I am truly sorry my Lady. But I have misinterpreted the Lord of Light’s messages in the flames. Stannis Baratheon was not Azor Ahai reborn. He was but a stepping stone for the one that sits before us now.”
 
“How can you… how can you say that? You told him… you told me that he was the rightful King. That he would sit upon the Iron Throne and unite the S-Seven Kingdoms!”
 
Melisandre has no defense to that. Instead, she bows her head and repeats herself.
 
“I have erred. My Lady, if you are truly a follower of the Lord of Light, you must submit to the Dragon Queen and surrender the castle. We all must submit to her rule. Her dragons are gifts from Him and her coming is the coming foretold in prophecy.”
 
Daenerys straightens up a bit, surprisingly feeling just a bit proud as Melisandre speaks. Truly, the woman has a silver-tongue. In this case however, it does not seem to do much good with Selyse Florent.
 
“FUCK THE LORD OF LIGHT!”
 
Just like that, Stannis’ widow pulls a knife from the folds of her dress, seemingly out of nowhere. Everyone in the room begins to move as Selyse lungs across the small amount of space between her and Melisandre, but nobody is close enough to stop what happens next. In the span of a second, but what feels like an eternity, it’s all over.
 
The Red Priestess dodges Selyse’ initial stab, grabs the other woman’s wrist, and turns the dagger onto her in one single, flowing move. A moment later and Selyse Florent has a dagger in her neck, put there seemingly by her own hand as Melisandre catches her and carefully falls to the floor with the dying woman in her arms.
 
“I am sorry Selyse… truly I am.”
 
The Red Priestess certainly sounds mournful… but in this instance, Selyse Florent isn’t her only victim. A childish scream of horror splits the air and all eyes turn towards Shireen Baratheon, as if just remembering the young girl is in the room. There is a splatter of her mother’s blood across her face, as it apparently sprayed her when Melisandre stabbed the dagger deep into Selyse’s neck.
 
Daenerys is just as horrified now, mostly on the girl’s behalf. She rises from her throne, but Drogon is already moving faster than anyone else. The very tip of his large snout presses against Shireen Baratheon’s forehead and the young girl’s eyes immediately flutter shut as she passes out right then and there, falling limply into his outstretched claws. Guarding her almost jealously to his breast, Drogon slinks back to Daenerys and her throne, and curls up in the empty space beside her. The young girl sleeps soundly in the coils of his tail.
 
Shuddering, Daenerys finds herself settling back down into her chair as Melisandre lowers the now dead Lady Florent the rest of the way to the ground and stands, moving to a place front and center before her. The crimson haired Red Priestess bows her head in supplication.
 
“Queen Daenerys Targaryen. I have made many mistakes in recent times. Greatest of which was going to the Lord of Dragonstone, rather than Dragonstone’s true heir and rightful ruler. I see now where I went wrong, where I misread the Lord of Light’s messages in the flames. I would pledge my loyalty to you, for you truly are Azor Ahai Reborn. Do with me as you wish.”
 
If Daenerys is being honest with herself, what she wishes is for Drogon to do as he will and consume this woman. Unfortunately, her largest child does not seem very inclined in that direction in this case, so she cannot simply pawn off Melisandre’s fate to him. Her nostrils flaring as she inhales sharply, Daenerys glances to Kinvara and comes up with an idea.
 
“High Priestess.”
 
Kinvara startles at having her true title pass from the Targaryen woman’s lips, but she presents herself nonetheless, bowing lowly.
 
“My Queen.”
 
“This one is one of yours. I would have your counsel on what to do with her. Is she a rogue, to be put down for her crimes?”
 
Daenerys almost hopes that Kinvara will take the easy option, say yes, and allow her to in turn take the easy option as well. Unfortunately, she suspects otherwise, and is not surprised when Kinvara hesitates and takes a moment to collect her words, before ultimately counseling mercy.
 
“… Everything is the will of the Lord. However, men and women can make mistakes. It is possible that Melisandre is meant to do more at your side before she passes on from this mortal coil. And a true Queen knows when to temper her wroth. I… would counsel mercy.”
 
Big fucking surprise. Daenerys almost snorts at her own thought, before shaking her head and shrugging her shoulders.
 
“So be it. She is yours to do with as you please High Priestess. Her actions from here on out, will reflect upon you.”
 
Kinvara’s lips press tightly together, but she bows nonetheless and walks from Daenerys side to Melisandre. A moment later and the two Red Priestesses are walking out together, red dresses trailing behind them. Daenerys watches the women go and wonders once again how worthwhile having them around even is. Of course, it’d been Drogon’s decision to bring Kinvara to her. She didn’t believe for a second that this Lord of Light influenced her ornery son. No, Drogon wanted the Red Priestess. And so she would stay.
 
Leaning back in her throne, Daenerys lets out a sigh as the next item on her exceedingly large agenda is brought before her. It’s going to be a long day.
 
-x-X-x-
 
“A-Ah, yes, right there Oberyn… yes… Yes… YES!!!”
 
Oberyn Martell, Prince of Dorne, grins a little wicked grin even as his tongue weaves a tapestry of pleasure back and forth across his lover’s cunt. Ellaria Sand is naked and bathed in sweat by this point, her beautiful body undulating and writhing beneath him, her fingers tightly gripping at his dark, curly, untamed hair.
 
He has been pleasuring her orally for over an hour now. Not as any sort of foreplay, though it is likely that they will fuck at some point tonight. No, Oberyn simply enjoys bringing a woman to the heights of ecstasy, and Ellaria, with a place so near and dear to his heart, is the most fun of all to play with. This is her fifth climax beneath his tongue and he intends to double that before he’s done, proving one of the lesser known reasons he’s called the Red Viper.
 
Unfortunately, intentions do not always equal results. There is the sudden sound of a throat clearing and the mood is broken as Oberyn disengages immediately, his hand drawing a knife from beneath the bed as he whirls around, ready to throw it into the neck of the offending party. Unfortunately, he is forced to stop by a familiar face connected to said neck.
 
“I do apologize for the interruption your Grace. But I felt that this news was important enough you would want to hear it, no matter the cost to your enjoyment of the beautiful Lady Sand.”
 
Ellaria stiffens behind him, her own dagger in hand, but Oberyn knows Lord Varys well enough to know the eunuch is not actually insulting his paramour. His nostrils flaring as he contains his anger, Oberyn points the tip of his blade in Varys’ direction.
 
“Speak quickly Spider.”
 
Varys bows, his hands still concealed before him as he does exactly that.
 
“The Queen is about to receive a letter that will have her seeing… red. She will want your head, but her father will force her to agree to a trial. Unfortunately, this will give her leave to arrest you and kill off your lover in order to exact at least some form of petty revenge for what she is about to learn. In the end, you are both in danger.”
 
Oberyn furrows his brow in confusion.
 
“This letter. What does it say?”
 
Varys’ shoulders rise and fall.
 
“It is a letter from Dorne. Not from your brother of course, but from one of the Lannister spies embedded in Sunspear. It will say that Myrcella Baratheon is dead, possibly by your brother’s hand. At the same time, a missive from your brother will arrive tomorrow, confessing Myrcella’s disappearance. The details will seem ridiculous. After all, the Princess was snatched up from the middle of the Water Gardens by a full-grown dragon, and carried off to parts unknown.”
 
For the first time in a long time, Oberyn Martell’s faculties fail him. He is not an unintelligent man. He has traveled the world, even studying with the Maesters themselves, as well as learned scholars in the Free Cities across the Narrow Sea. And yet, what Varys has just told him… it makes no sense.
 
“Why would my brother say such things? What is the truth of this Spider?”
 
Again, Varys’ shoulders rise and fall as he looks at Oberyn with a pitying expression.
 
“I am surprised that you are not as informed as I thought, Prince Oberyn. The truth is exactly as I have laid it out for you. Myrcella Baratheon WAS taken by a dragon. Daenerys Targaryen’s largest dragon, in fact. A particular little bird of mine has confirmed she still lives, at the Mother of Dragon’s side.”
 
Oberyn’s eyes bulge out of his skull. Of course, he knows about Daenerys and he’d even heard rumors of dragonlings in Qarth. His voice is faint however as he asks the question on the forefront of his mind.
 
“… Daenerys Targaryen as a full-grown dragon?”
 
Varys’ smile is apologetic.
 
“Not quite. By all accounts, Drogon is impressive and growing more so by the day… but I suspect he will not reach the size that the history books consider “full-grown” until after Daenerys takes Dragonstone and he feasts on the last of Stannis’ men there.”
 
At this point, Oberyn is just staring at the eunuch. The Spider speaks insanity so calmly that Oberyn fears for his own. Before he can do more than open his mouth to offer a rejoinder however, a scream of heartbreak and rage so loud that it reaches their room through the open window nearby emanates from the Red Keep and all three of the room’s occupants look towards the direction the sound came in.
 
“… I imagine that would be the Queen. Her father is with her, so when the goldcloaks come, it will be to arrest you, rather than to kill you. They will not be so kind to your paramour.”
 
Varys looks past Oberyn, offering Ellaria an apologetic look, as if he’d just told her that they were out of wine, rather than that her death was eminent. The naked woman stiffens, her eyes flashing with anger. It is clear that she does not fear what is coming, nor will she go down without a fight.
 
And yet, Oberyn is weak in this area. He would prefer not to risk the love of his life.
 
“Why have you come here Spider? Why do you offer this information freely? Why do you stay even now, as you say goldcloaks approach?”
 
Varys smiles, though he does not show his teeth.
 
“I have a few minutes more before I must depart. Before then, I hoped to make you an offer Prince Oberyn. Simply put, I would be happy to see Lady Sand safely out of the city for you. My little birds are ever so resourceful, and she would not be caught or killed if you placed her in my hands, I can assure you of that.”
 
Oberyn lifts a brow questioningly, before glancing back to Ellaria and speaking curtly.
 
“Get dressed my love.”
 
To her credit, Ellaria does not question him as she hops out of bed and throws on a loose, flowing garment. While she dresses, Oberyn turns back to a waiting Varys, the eunuch not even glancing at his naked, beautiful mistress. But then of course he wouldn’t, it is not the pleasures of flesh that drives a man with no cock or balls.
 
“What is the price Lord Varys? Speak plainly as time is short. If I do not like what you have to say, I and Ellaria will take our chances at each other’s sides, rather than split apart on your whim.”
 
Varys bows his head and when words fall from his lips again, they are as blunt as Oberyn has asked for.
 
“I intend to send Lady Sand to Dragonstone, to meet with Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men. I intend for her to act as Dorne’s liaison, so that your family and the Mother of Dragons might form an alliance that will see Daenerys put back where she belongs, on the Iron Throne.”
 
And finally, it all clicks. Oberyn feels idiotic for not seeing it before, but then… no one did, somehow.
 
“You… you’re a Targaryen Loyalist.”
 
Varys smiles sardonically and inclines his head yet again.
 
“And so are you, now that the Lannisters control the throne and revenge for your sister has come to Westeros along with three dragons.”
 
Oberyn stiffens… and then grins, because Varys is right. He turns to Ellaria, who now stands at his side, and kisses her heatedly and deeply for but a brief moment. Then he tears himself away and pushes her towards the Spider.
 
“Go, the both of you. We have wasted enough time with revelations. Ellaria… treat with the Dragon Queen. If she cannot accept a bastard as an ambassador, I would not counsel my brother to ally with her anyways.”
 
Ellaria nods, and Varys turns and then they’re both gone, out a side door. Oberyn lets out a low breath and slowly sinks to his knees in the middle of the room. His eyes close and his hands rest palm down atop his legs as he does something he has not done in some time. The Red Viper meditates and contemplates and plans. He does this until the goldcloaks come for him. When they arrive, he offers up no resistance and it is as Varys says. He is taken into custody and spends the night in a Black Cell.
 
And when morning comes… well, Oberyn supposes it will be time to begin.