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
Chapter 163: A Prince's Reckoning
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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.
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Author Note: There is a Chapter 163.5, which is exclusive to Discord. It became quite long. But it’s not really important to the plot since there have been similar scenes before. Although this one’s much crazier.