The End of Dragons

You looked down at Daenerys Targaryen - broken, trembling, her violet eyes glassy with exhausted submission - and felt only cold certainty.

The Targaryen line was too dangerous to allow. Even broken, even bred, her blood carried madness and dragons. Fire and blood could never be truly tamed. Not while any spark remained.

Melisandre sensed the shift in you. She stepped closer, one hand on her own swollen belly, and whispered, “The red comet demands it, my king. Ice must extinguish fire completely.”

You nodded.

You dragged Daenerys back to the center of the platform by her silver braid. The army, sensing something final, fell into a heavy, anticipatory silence.

She barely resisted as you **** her onto her back again, legs spread wide. Her cunt and ass still gaped from the long hours of use, red and leaking. You mounted her one final time, driving your thick cock deep into her ruined pussy with a single brutal thrust. Daenerys moaned weakly, her body responding even now.

You fucked her hard and deep, hips slamming against her ass, using her like a vessel for the last time. Her small breasts bounced with every punishing stroke. You wrapped one hand around her slender throat and squeezed, cutting off her air as you railed her.

“Look at me,” you growled.

Her eyes fluttered open, wide with fresh fear as she realized this was different.

You fucked her mercilessly while **** her, pounding her cervix with every thrust. Her walls fluttered desperately around you. Just as she neared another shattering orgasm, you pulled out.

You flipped her onto her stomach, yanked her hips up, and **** your cock back into her ass. You reamed her with savage, hate-filled strokes, using her final moments to claim every last piece of her.

Daenerys whimpered and moaned brokenly, pushing back against you despite everything. You reached beneath her and rubbed her clit brutally until her body seized in one last, humiliating orgasm. Her asshole clenched violently around your cock as she came, sobbing and shaking.

Only then did you pull out.

You stood, cock throbbing and denied, glistening with her juices. You looked out at the silent army, then down at the ruined Dragon Queen.

“The Targaryen line ends tonight,” you announced coldly. “Fire dies. Winter remains.”

You grabbed Longclaw.

Daenerys’s eyes widened in sudden, final understanding. She tried to crawl away, but her limbs were too weak.

With one clean, powerful stroke, you severed her head from her body.

Her silver-gold head rolled across the platform as blood sprayed hot across the wood. The army roared in approval. You lifted the severed head by the braid, showing her lifeless violet eyes and parted lips to the crowd.

Melisandre stepped forward and touched the bleeding stump of Daenerys’s neck. Crimson flames erupted, consuming the body in moments. The dragons roared in the distance, but without their mother they were already becoming restless and uncontrollable — another problem for another night.

You tossed the head into the flames.

“It is done,” you said, turning to your women. Melisandre’s eyes glowed with dark ecstasy. Sansa looked pale but did not look away. Val grinned with feral approval.

The last Targaryen was dead. The threat of dragons and old Valyrian madness ended on a wooden platform in the Crownlands, fucked and executed before thousands.

You tucked your still-hard cock away, the ache of denied release only fueling the cold fire in your veins.

“Tomorrow we march on King’s Landing,” you commanded. “The Iron Throne awaits its true king.”

Winter had won.