My lair really was coming along nicely. Not only did I have my ever-present concubine/slave girl in the form of Myrcella, as well as my hoard of women coming in each day to pleasure me, I now had a right and proper hoard of treasure.
 
It filled the entire back of the massive room I’d claimed as my own. Not quite the top floor of Dragonstone, but near the top. I’d knocked out most of the walls and it would probably need to be rebuilt later on to make it more structurally sound, but for the moment I had a nice, big empty space… which was no longer quite so empty. The entire back of the ‘lair’ was now filled with mounds of gold, a big enough hoard for me to stretch out on.
 
All of the plunder from Astapor and Yunkai that I’d nudged my mother to bring along, plus every last bit of coin left in Dragonstone’s vaults from Stannis’ tenure as the island’s lord. It was unfortunate that I hadn’t been able to properly communicate before our departure from Qarth, or I would have had Daenerys ransack that city as well on her way out.
 
As it was, I had to settle for the riches of two Free Cities and an island instead. Such is life, woe is me. Regardless, my hoard was fairly nice. Not overly large yet, but then I probably wouldn’t be satisfied until my entire lair was filled with precious metals and gemstones. I wanted it all. Almost as much as I wanted more sexy ladies for my living hoard.
 
Kinvara and Melisandre were quite literally religious about attending to me each day for their empowering meals. Daenerys and Missandei never missed a night. For all the times in between, I had Myrcella. But something was urging me on. Five… wasn’t enough. And I wanted more than one ‘permanent’ maiden for my lair.
 
Gazing down upon Myrcella Baratheon with a large amber eye, I let a rumble of approval leave my chest, even as the scantily clad blonde worships my cock with her tongue and hands.
 
Hm, but who to go after next? I wasn’t needed for any battles yet, that was sure. I hadn’t prodded my mother along, and so Daenerys was faffing about just a tad. Heh, faffing about… I love that phrase. Anyways, yes… the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms was currently content to sit on Dragonstone and take her time planning her next move. I didn’t really blame her if I was being honest.

After all, the minor lords were crawling out of the woodworks in order to declare for her, either arriving at Dragonstone themselves, or sending emissaries in their place. Mm, which reminded me… Oberyn’s paramour was here now. Ellaria Sand or something? I kind of wanted her, but for the moment I’d held off. It was probably foolish to hold off, wasn’t it? She was a poisoner though, so no matter how beautiful she was, I couldn’t help but be slightly leery. After all, if Dragonstone’s Maester hadn’t been dead already when I arrived, I would have eaten him outright rather than let him live.
 
I wasn’t sure I was going to let any of the Maesters live… when the time came, it might be best to torch Oldtown. All that knowledge though… ehhh, I’d cross that bridge later. Was definitely going to kill any who got close to me though.
 
Huh, speak of the devil, there she is now. Ellaria Sand has entered my lair and is walking the length of the large chamber. I shift and Myrcella whines as she’s dislodged from her place at my cock. I pay her no mind though as I lift myself up and give my new guest my full regard. Missandei and Varys are behind her, and it’s clear that the dark-skinned young woman is escorting the two of them. I wonder what my mother is up to, that she doesn’t deign this important enough to be here for.
 
But then, a eunuch and a mistress… they probably just aren’t that big of a deal to a Queen.
 
“He is magnificent…”
 
The words fall from Ellaria’s lips and I valiantly resist the urge to preen under her gaze. Instead, I slowly slink forward as Myrcella moves to a nearby pile of pillows atop a mound of silver and copper coins. Varys’ eyes move to the scantily clad girl even as Ellaria is unable to tear her gaze from me.
 
“Ah, hello there princess. I confess, despite hearing the rumors I did not believe what I was told about your… circumstances.”
 
Myrcella bites her lower lip, looking nervous. But then, I suppose the young woman has only ever known Varys as the Spider in her father’s court. They definitely don’t have any kind of bond.
 
“… I’m not a princess anymore. I have forsaken my family name. I belong to Drogon now.”
 
Varys’ lifts an eyebrow at that.
 
“I see.”
 
Ellaria’s response is not nearly as reserved. There is a tone of disgust in her voice as she eyes the former princess up and down.
 
“You belong to a beast, do you? You are much changed from the girl Oberyn and I left behind in Dorne.”
 
Missandei interjects, or tries to anyways.
 
“Lady Ellaria, Drogon is far from a mere beast. He is-.”
 
That’s where I impose myself, cutting off the dark-skinned woman as she shudders and nearly falls to her knees right then and there. The wave of emotion I send out is both broad and at the same time concentrated. Missandei gets nothing but pleasure. Varys gets a dose of my pride and my suspicion and it sends the eunuch to his knees as he cries out in agony. Myrcella gets mostly pleasure, the same as Missandei.
 
And then there’s Ellaria. The beautiful Dornish woman drops to her knees, the same as Varys, but there’s no pain etched across her face. Instead, her eyes glaze over and her jaw drops open as her body spasms a bit from the orgasm that I force her to experience. My lips curl back and show rows of sharp teeth as I stalk forward and encircle the kneeling woman in my grasp. I’m barely cognizant of Missandei recovering and grabbing for Varys’ arm.
 
“Come, we must leave.”
 
“I… what about Lady Ellaria?”
 
“She has offended Drogon. Her fate is in his hands now, unless you wish to argue with a dragon.”
 
It turns out, Varys does not. Instead, the bald eunuch retreats right alongside Missandei, though the dark-skinned woman rubs her thighs together as she hurries away, and I know she’s desperate to get somewhere private and masturbate. Myrcella on the other hand, only comes closer, a wicked grin on her face as she makes her way past my coils and stalks up to Ellaria, the other woman still on her knees, mouth agape and eyes a bit glazed over.
 
To her credit, the Dornish woman does look up at Myrcella when the blonde stands over her and grins wickedly.
 
“I do not belong to a beast Lady Sand. I belong to Drogon. And now, so do you.”
 
I snort lightly, a bit of black smoke leaving my nostrils as I position myself so that my massive, ridged cock is once more before both women. When Myrcella grabs Ellaria by the back of the head and pushes her face into the side of my schlong, I watch on in amusement as the dusky woman gets a whiff of my musk… and immediately begins to lick. To be fair, I’m still massaging her mind with my own, pressing my desire and my arousal onto her from all sides in a metaphorical sense.
 
Myrcella is a bit vicious in her efforts to push Ellaria onward, but I don’t mind it. My pet concubine is simply offended on my behalf. I like that. And now I have Ellaria Sand to worship me as well. Mm, and she’s much more skilled than any of the others were when they first began. The Dornish woman has stripped out of her skimpy dress in short order, and now she’s outright rubbing her body all over my length. Her pussy in particular is sopping wet as she grinds her slit and clit against the side of my cock.
 
Seeing how enthusiastic Ellaria is, Myrcella belatedly seems to realize that she has a new rival for my affections. Her eyes wide, the blonde girl is quick to slide her body up and down the other side of my cock. Hm, my dick might be getting too big if I’m being honest. I wonder if I can do something about that. For now though, I’m just enjoying having two women, one dark like caramel and the other as pale as freshly driven snow, pleasuring my draconic member with all the enthusiasm they can muster.
 
Given Myrcella was working on my cock for about an hour before Ellaria, Varys, and Missandei arrived, it doesn’t take long for me to reach my climax. Even still, I make sure to push my pleasure onto both women as I ascend to that peak, forcing each to climax repeatedly along the sides of my cock. Finally, I cum, a veritable fountain of dragon jizz spraying out and covering the two naked beauties.
 
Satisfied, at least for the moment, I lounge back and enjoy the resulting show as Myrcella and Ellaria fall upon each other like the horny, hungry bitches that they are. It’s Ellaria’s first taste of my cum, but judging by the enthusiasm and eagerness with which she’s licking herself, my cock, and Myrcella clean, it won’t be her last by far.
 
I grin wickedly, my rows of sharp teeth on display, though neither of my sluts are paying much attention to that. This was fun… and yet, ‘acquiring’ Ellaria Sand had not quenched my hunger. In fact, it’d only increased it. I wanted more than just her. For a second, I contemplate using the woman to lure in her daughters, at least the ones old enough to enjoy, who are back in Dorne.
 
… Maybe later. I can have her send a letter and Doran will probably send Oberyn’s bastard girls up to Dragonstone without having any idea what awaits them. There’s still the threat of poison, but then I got over that rather fast with Ellaria just now, didn’t I? Ah well, I’d just deal with that shit as it became a problem. Wasn’t going to let a little fear of poison stop me from collecting women for my hoard!
 
Hm… I kind of wanted to go steal a lady from King’s Landing. I knew that my mother wasn’t going to be attacking it any time soon, but that just meant I had time to do a few more snatch and grabs before we burned the city to the ground. What lovely morsels were even in King’s Landing at this point to steal though? Three came to mind immediately, with a few more besides them.
 
Sansa Stark, Margery Tyrell, Cersei Lannister. The highborn trio. I was pretty sure they were the biggest targets for me to snatch up. There were probably others I wasn’t thinking of at the moment, but those were the primary three. Just… which one to go after first, hm? That WAS the question…
 
-x-X-x-
 
Sansa Stark presses her lips tightly together as she sits beside her ‘husband’. Tyrion Lannister is no happier to be here on this day than she is. In fact, he’s probably even less happy, given the humiliations that Joffrey has heaped upon him on this, the King’s wedding day.
 
At least… at least Margaery looks beautiful. Sansa knows better than to think that the Tyrells had her best interests at heart when they usurped her betrothal to Joffrey and placed Margaery at his side instead… but in the end, the red head can’t help but be happy over the circumstances. Not so happy about being married to a dwarf, but so far Tyrion has been shockingly kind to her and he’s taken no liberties. It’s more than she can say of the King.
 
Keeping her body still to avoid shuddering, Sansa nonetheless sends a silent internal thank you to the Seven for sparing her Joffrey’s no doubt sick depravations in the bedchamber. As an afterthought, she sends a silent prayer to the Seven on Margaery’s behalf on the same issue.
 
The moment has become incredibly awkward, what with Joffrey pouring wine over Tyrion’s head. Sansa isn’t sure where this is going, but she knows it’s nowhere good.
 
“Uncle! You can be my cupbearer! Seeing as you’re too cowardly to fight.”
 
Oh dear.
 
“Your grace does me a great honor.”
 
“It’s not meant as an honor.”
 
Joffrey is a cruel boy. Sansa hates herself for not seeing it before. She can’t imagine how everyone else at the wedding stays silent in the face of such vileness. But then, she’ll never speak up… still, she has an excuse, doesn’t she? She’s a prisoner, always has been. Why does Tywin not take a stand as Joffrey drops his goblet before Tyrion can take hold of it? Why does the Queen allow her son’s excesses to reach such monstrous heights in front of all the Lords and Ladies of the Seven Kingdoms?
 
How the Lannisters ever expect to hold onto power with this insane boy on the throne, Sansa does not know. But then, she would rather they not hold onto power, in the end.
 
Ah, there Joffrey goes, kicking the goblet away as Tyrion reaches for it. Cruel, cruel boy...
 
“Bring me my goblet.”
 
The words are said quietly, but Sansa is sure everyone at the wedding hears them. And as her dwarf husband kneels to crawl under the table and retrieve the kicked goblet… Sansa decides enough is enough. She will not say a word, she dare not say a word… but in the end, she need not say a word. The red head stands up, face set in stone, and moves to pick up the goblet from where it’s rolled closer to her.
 
Her eyes meet with Tyrion’s as he takes it from her hand. Then the dwarf is turning away to give it to the King.
 
“What good is an empty cup? Fill it.”
 
Sansa can already imagine what will happen next. Joffrey clearly intends to up end the wine over Tyrion’s head once more. And yet, her new husband does it all the same. And he holds out the cup of wine to Joffrey and Sansa is just waiting for what she knows is about to happen.
 
“Kneel.”
 
Yep. There it is. Though why Joffrey needs a dwarf to kneel before he pours wine all over him…
 
“Kneel before your King.”
 
Except… Tyrion isn’t moving. He’s staring at Joffrey like one would a bug, still holding out the cup of wine, but making no effort to follow Joffrey’s order. The King seems to belatedly realize this and he grows incredulous and even angrier as he speaks.
 
“I said… KNEEL!”
 
This is where Tyrion has chosen to die it seems. Sansa would be quite fine with that if it didn’t put her in an even more precarious position than she already is. Without a Lannister husband, even if it is the dwarf Lannister, she is no doubt soon to die, if she does not die right alongside Tyrion for his crime. It would be such a fucking waste, given all she has endured and lived through to make it this far.
 
And yet there’s nothing she can do. She can no more convince Tyrion to kneel then Joffrey, and they’re probably past the point where it would do any good. Tyrion has silently stood fast for too long, stretching into moments now. Sansa can tell that the King is about to order the dwarf beheaded, any mom-
 
“Look! The pie!”
 
And like that, Margaery Tyrell swoops in somehow to save the day as the entire wedding party reacts to the massive wedding pie being brought out on an honest to god litter. Sansa keeps her eyes on Tyrion and Joffrey of course, having no care for pastries when her life might still hang in the balance. But then Joffrey takes the goblet of wine contemptuously from Tyrion’s hand and the two-part ways without further word.
 
Tyrion returns to Sansa’s side as they all stand for the cutting. Joffrey draws his new Valyrian sword from its sheathe and the pain in Sansa’s heart grows tenfold. She is no fool. She knows what became of Ice, in the end. To see her father’s sword maimed and twisted to create this thing, it brings her such sorrow. Her face stays blank though, even as Joffrey brings the blade down on the pie and pigeons fly out from the interior as everyone cheers.
 
Perhaps… perhaps they can depart now? Sansa licks her lips and looks to her dwarf husband. The words are about to leave her mouth when the world shakes and a roar splits the sky that sends everyone scrambling. Sansa’s eyes widen as she looks around. Even the Stark girl has heard the rumors of dragons and the like.
 
But before she or anyone else can react beyond the drawing of swords and the screams of those without weapons, the wooden wall behind the wedding party is torn away by the landing of a massive, black-scaled dragon. The Kingsguard that were stood behind the tables are crushed by claws bigger than Sansa’s head.
 
Everyone is scrambling to get away, though Tywin Lannister doesn’t move quickly enough of a huge jaw full of sharp teeth closes over the old man and snaps him up. There’s a roar of fire and flames and the last thing Sansa hears of the Lord Paramount is an uncharacteristic scream as he’s burnt alive in the beast’s mouth and swallowed whole.
 
Sansa finds herself frozen in place, as does the rest of the wedding party as an oppressive presence slams into their minds. An amber eye slides over those before it, containing far more intelligence than the red head would expect from a beast. And then, the massive claws slide forward again and Margaery Tyrell, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, lets out a shriek as she’s snatched up. The dragon beats its wings and a moment later it’s gone, flying up into the air as Margaery’s screams slowly disappear into the distance, long before anyone can arrive to save her.
 
The oppressiveness disappears after a moment more and the wedding party, those that still live anyways, all begin to move.
 
“D-D-Dragon! DRAGON! The dragon took my Queen! Get it! Shoot it down! Bring her b-ack!”
 
And of course, the King is the first to begin screaming. Except the end there sounded more like he was choking than a word.
 
Eyes turn towards the King as he begins to cough and hack and choke. Those attending the wedding who hid under tables rather than fleeing altogether, peek out just in time to see Joffrey doubling over as he coughs and coughs and coughs, until eventually he can’t get any air out at all. No one says a word as Joffrey stumbles and then falls to his knees.
 
Finally, Cersei moves, as does the Kingslayer. The Lannister twins reach the King (their son, if the rumors are to be believed. And Sansa does believe them.) at around the same time, calling out to him. Sansa and Tyrion watch on. Tommen, Olenna, and Mace do as well. They are all that’s left of the wedding party at this point, and they are all petrified into silence.
 
What… what is happening? In another time and place, a strange man would have come up to Sansa’s side in that moment and told her that they needed to leave. Of course, in another time and place, there would not have been a dragon attack preceding the King’s poisoning. The strange man had not been paid enough to stick around when the massive fire beast began its attack. He is not there to lead Sansa away from the wedding.
 
Instead, she stays and she watches as Joffrey Baratheon, First of His Name dies in the dirt like the dog she’s long known she is. And when Cersei turns to look at everyone, Sansa is not nearly fast enough to hide the wide, brilliant grin on her face. The Lannister woman snarls through teary eyes as she points at both Tyrion and Sansa.
 
“YOU! YOU TWO! YOU POISONED MY SON!”
 
Sansa freezes up… and then relaxes, even as goldcloaks have to step in to arrest both her and her dwarf husband. In the end, what comes will come. She did not poison Joffrey, though she wishes she had. In all honesty, if she is to die for a crime she did not commit, murdering Joffrey Baratheon would be to her preference.
 
The look of sorrow etched across Cersei’s face and the painful and gruesome way Joffrey died… it will warm the red head’s heart for quite some time to come, possibly until the day of her death if Cersei has her way.
 
Though honestly… who could have seen the dragon coming?!

-x-X-x-

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