The room was stifling, a prison of sand colored walls and lush carpets that smothered the air, trapping her with the scent of perfumed oils and sun-warmed stone. She wondered if Viserys would return soon or if he had forgotten her, lost in his own schemes and dreams of a stolen throne.

A fly buzzed lazily above her, tracing mocking circles in the air. Dany focused on it, willing herself to become as small and meaningless as the tiny creature, to feel nothing, to think nothing. Her arms trembled, but she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from collapsing. She wondered if Viserys would let her see the sky when he sold her to Drogo, if the open plains would be a kinder cage.

The silence stretched, oppressive and thick, broken only by the rustle of the handmaid's skirts as she shifted slightly. Illyrio had made it clear that she was not to be molested, and so Viserys had spared her so far. But Dany had no such protection.

She closed her eyes, imagining herself a baby dragon in its shell, curled up tight, waiting for the day she would hatch and fly away from all of this. But the image slipped away like smoke through her fingers, leaving her with nothing but the ache in her limbs.

She thought she heard footsteps in the corridor, yes, at last, and her heart began to race with a mix of hope and dread.

The door swung open, and Viserys entered, his pale hair gleaming like molten silver in the dim light. He paused, looming over her with a smirk that did not reach his eyes. “Has she moved since I left?” he demanded of the handmaid, his voice sharp as a dagger’s edge.

“No, my lord,” the girl replied, almost a whisper, her gaze still lowered.

Dany felt his stare rake over her, lingering on her glistening skin. His hand skimmed her bare rump, a mockery of tenderness, before he delivered a stinging slap. She cried out, more from surprise than pain, and he laughed, a thin, cruel sound.

"It is done, little sister," Viserys said, his voice dripping with disdain. "They have finalized it. They dare to think a dragon can be bought by a savage." He paced the room, a king without a throne, a man without a crown. "They’ll treat me as their king, and I will have their hordes. I’ll have their cities and their armies. We will take King's Landing, and they will beg at my feet."

Dany listened without a word, each breath a silent plea for him to finish so he could fuck her and be gone. Her lip trembled, a small whimper escaping before she could stop it.

Viserys spun around, eyes narrowing. "Oh, missing my cock, are we?" he sneered. He shed his clothing with quick, impatient movements, his pale skin as thin and cold as the ambition that consumed him.

With a gesture, he dismissed the handmaiden.

"Pity I can't take your pussy," he said, positioning himself behind her, "but I suppose we'll need to save that for your horselord."

Dany winced as he began rubbing the head of his cock against her taut anus. His hand pressed into her back, forcing her down. She felt relief flood through her, even as his hard cock began to push inside.

"You’ll thank me for this one day," he grunted, his breath hot and heavy. "When you sit beside me on the Iron Throne. When the world remembers my name."

The pain was sharp, but she held herself silent, thinking only of the moment he would be done, the moment she could pretend to be somewhere else, someone else.

Viserys thrust deeper, lost in his own delusions, oblivious to the hurt he caused. "They think they’ve bought us, but they’ll learn. They’ll all learn."

Dany closed her eyes, her body numb beneath him, and let his words wash over her like the tide, each one a promise and a curse.