A Dream of Home

Daenaerys sat atop the Iron Throne. Below her were her subjects, the great and good of the realm: A collection of the greatest and most prominent Lords and Ladies in the land, a smattering of merchants and business owners, and a few peasants, come to court with their grievances in the hope that their Queen, in all her wisdom, might be of assistance. This was her rightful place. This was where she was meant to be, where she was born to be. At her feet, her three dragons danced, fluttering and swooping around the throne in wide circles.

She was dressed in such finery as she had never truly experienced in her time in Essos: A great gown, crimson and black — the colours of House Targaryen — the sigil of her house sewn in rubies all down its front (this in honour of her noble brother Rhaegar) and the sleeves and collar rendered in dazzling white silk, ruffled in the most exquisite fashion.

Dany smiled, and, with her index finger, beckoned for the first petitioner to approach the throne. They did as they were bid, and as they approached, she saw that it was the Lord of Driftmark. His name escaped her, and his face was difficult to focus on, but she knew him by the distinctive seahorse sigil affixed to the breast of his jerkin. "My Queen," he said, by way of greeting, sinking into a deep and lingering bow.

"Arise," Dany replied, and the Lord did as he was bid, rising to his full height once more. She waved a hand, and the Lord began to speak, "I come to you about my ships, my Queen. They languish in and around the harbour at Driftmark, the wood rots, the sails fray...I require a loan of some fifteen thousand gold dragons, so that I might conduct key repairs on the fleet."

"Mm," Dany replied. "And...will the crown be able to call upon you in future? Will you act in the crown's interests, rather than your own or those of your allies, should the need arise?"

"Of course, my Queen," The Lord replied. "Ever is House Velaryon at your service." "Good," Dany said. "Then I shall grant my Master of Coin leave to provide this loan to you. The precise terms can be negotiated with him. Good day, Lord Velaryon." The Lord bowed once more, then turned and walked back to the throng of noble petitioners.

The next came up after him: The Lady of Highgarden, her face was similarly difficult to place, though her hair was long and lustrous, and striking indeed. Another bow, another rise. "My Queen," She said. "I come to you with a topic of some import and great sensitivity." "Sensitivity?" Dany raised an eyebrow. "In what way? Does it concern finances, siege defences, familial claims on ancestral land?" The Lady coughed loudly. "Nothing so...official as that, my Queen. It is..." She turned and looked over her shoulder at the rest of the crowded throne room behind her. "May we speak privately? It really is quite...private," She stared pointedly at Dany, but Dany merely frowned, and shook her head. "Speak your business here, or return home with it unresolved, My Lady." The Lady went pale, then nodded, smoothing down the front of her own blue gown. "Where to begin..." She muttered. "Very well. I come to you today in the hopes of dealing with a criminal. To be more specific..." She looked up at the Queen. "A thief."

Dany motioned for her to proceed. "This thief, he is — or was — a gardener in my employ. An individual of low station but no small amount of skill in his chosen profession. This gardener until recently I considered to have a cordial relationship with myself and my family...until..."

Dany leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. "Until?" The Lady swallowed, continuing to smooth down the front of her dress. "Until I discovered...items had gone missing from my privatr apartments. Items of a...sensitive nature."

"You keep saying, sensitive, my Lady. Sensitive in what way?" Dany asked. The Lady of Highgarden looked very nervous indeed, she chewed her bottom lip, looked around, then nodded to herself as if in reassurance. She met the Queen's gaze once more. "U—underthings, my Queen." Dany was taken aback.

"Underthings? As in—"

"As in underthings, my Lady. There need be no more detail than that."

"As you say," Dany nodded. "How was the gardener caught with your...underthings?" The Lady seemed irritated, and the increasing redness of her face betrayed more than a hint of embarassment. "Some of my guards found him — he had failed to report to the gardens for his work that morning — his breeches were around his ankles and he was...using them, to pleasure himself. There was no mistaking them, my Queen, they are quite...distinctive."

"I see," Dany nodded once more. "I assume you have him with you?"

"We transferred him to the Black Cells in preparation for your judgement my Queen. I'm eager to see justice done, particularly as he tainted all of the...every article of...that I possessed. I have none for the time being," The Lady's voice quavered. "I want him to pay."

"And pay he will," Dany assured her. "Now, please, be at ease...he will be dealt with." The Lady curtsied in gratitude, but something went wrong, she pitched forward and fell onto her front. Her skirts pitched upwards, and though Dany did not see it. It was clear that she had briefly flashed the crowd behind her, judging by the torrent of mutters that went up in response. The Lady struggled to her feet, clearly mortified. She turned and stalked out of the room, gripping her skirts tightly as she went, and refusing to make eye contact with anyone. Dany felt more than a little sorry for her, she felt a curious kind of kinship with the woman, though she couldn't quite place why.

"Nex—" She cut herself off, having seen something strange on the barbed armrest she had laid her arm on. "What..." Dany raised the arm, turning it to inspect the sleeve of her gown. Now she saw it; on one side, the fabric was torn, the sleeve cut sharply in two down to elbow. There was a quiet ripping sound, and so she turned her attention to the other arm, raising it and staring at it in identical fashion. The same was true of this one: A tear right down to the elbow, the sleeve wilting away from her arm like a flower in bloom.

"What is this—" She shifted in her seat, hearing a tearing below her. She tried to stand up and felt the stitching in the seat of the gown coming away, then suddenly felt the flow of air on the back of her legs and her knicker-clad arse. "Shit," she muttered. "Is everything all right, my Queen?" One of the Kingsguard stationed at the foot of the throne called up to her. "Uh, yes...yes everything is—" she tried to sit down but the hem of her dress became snagged on one of the throne's errant, protruding blades.

The suddenness of it made her pitch unexpectedly forward, and even as she began to fall down the throne's long staircase, she heard a terribly loud series of rips. Gasps went up throughout the crowd, and Dany tried to brace herself as she rolled down the steep steps of the Iron Throne, the gown ripping and coming away in various places with each new revolution. By the time she reached the bottom, her beautiful gown was shredded to the seven hells and back. She lay, slightly dazed, at the foot of her own throne. When she finally came to her senses again, the Kingsguard had approached her and was helping her to her feet, but he shrank back when he saw the state of her. "Gods...er...I...I apologise, my Queen..." he averted his eyes. "What do you mean?" Dany said, slowly rising to her feet. Another gasp from the crowd.

"What's the matter with all of you?" She said, sternly. Then, she had the misfortune to look down, finally catching sight of herself. Her gown was in ruins, and below the neckline all but gone. The underwear she had chosen that day almost fully visible, including the peculiar set of knickers she had been gifted by a trader from the Summer Isles, which were roughly the width of a piece of string, and barely concealed her pussy from view. Up top, her breasts heaved under the constraints of a thin, black corset, and looked as if they might break free at any moment. "No..." She murmured. "No, not...not again..." Dany could feel every eye in the room on her, and here she was again, paralysed by fear and humiliation. "This can't keep happening...this can't..." The room began to blur, and she could feel herself slipping away from it...