He curled into himself, hands clutching where his balls used to be, now just a ruin of blood and shredded skin. A puddle spread beneath him. He wailed. Loud. High-pitched. Less "wounded man" and more "butchered pig."
Somewhere in the corner, a glowing message flickered into existence like a twisted joke from the gods:
{Ding! Hidden Mission Completed: "Make Traitor Barbari Ball-less"}
"MY BALLS!!!!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"
Castratus could only yell in pain as viserys grabbed his fav naked dancer who he have been courting for years and only got the chance to have her now and snapped her neck with a crunch.
"FATHER!"
Aren's voice cracked like brittle glass as he stood, stiff and slow, the weight of shock dragging every movement. His eyes, wide and bloodshot, locked on the twisted figure of Castratus, his father, writhing on the floor in a pool of spreading blood, limbs twitching as if they didn't know whether to scream or die quietly.
It didn't feel real. For a heartbeat, he stood frozen, mind refusing to accept what his eyes were feeding him.
And then, something slammed into his chest.
The lifeless body of his father's favorite dancer crashed into him, her limbs limp, skin already paling. The force of the corpse knocked Aren back, his skull clipping the edge of the couch with a wet crack before he collapsed onto the floor, breath caught in his throat. He didn't scream.
He just went still.
A moment passed.
Then chaos came.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
"MURDERER!"
The high-pitched screams of the remaining dancer echoed through the walls, the sound thin and feral, born of genuine terror. Beside her, the musician, still gripping his flute with trembling hands, fell to his knees as though his body had finally remembered fear. His mouth worked uselessly, no words forming, his eyes glassing over as panic crushed his thoughts.
The dancer's gaze snapped to Viserys, face contorted in fury and disbelief. Her hands balled into fists, but the rage in her eyes told the deeper truth, she had lost everything in a single moment. Years of seduction, deceit, and survival through compromise, all gone.
"You," she hissed, spitting the word like venom. Her finger jabbed toward him, trembling with hatred. "You animal…"
She didn't get to finish as Viserys looked at her like she'd just called him 'uncle' before.....
Viserys moved without a word, lunging over the scattered table between them. His bare foot crushed a silver goblet underheel, wine spilling like blood across the marble floor. In one brutal motion, his leg snapped upward. His heel slammed into her throat.
The sound her neck made was low and final.
She collapsed, mouth open, eyes still moving. Alive. But not for long. Her body jerked slightly, nerves spasming, as she struggled to breathe through a windpipe that no longer held shape.
Death circled, but didn't land. She would suffer.
The musician—Lorun—watched it all from the floor, his breath shallow, his knees bent beneath him like wet paper. His flute rolled away from his grasp, bumping gently against the edge of the fireplace. He looked up at Viserys, pale as snow, lips trembling.
"P–P–Please…" he stammered. "S–S–Spare me…"
His voice broke down into a choked whisper, hands raised weakly in surrender. Tears welled up in his eyes. His back hunched, like he expected a blade in the spine.
But Viserys didn't even glance his way.
He stepped past the boy like he wasn't worth the steel, his focus fixed on the body sprawled on the floor. Castratus was still breathing, barely. Blood seeped between his thighs, thick and slow, as if his body hadn't yet accepted what had been taken from it.
His face twitched. Eyes rolled half-open. Then closed again.
Viserys knelt beside him.
He didn't speak. He didn't taunt. He just watched the man bleed, watched the body twitch and flinch like a dying animal.
Because there were no words left. Not for traitors. Not for cowards who danced among whores while sharpening knives for children.
ONLY CAESAR CAN DO THAT!
"BROTHER!" Daenerys's voice rang out next, high and panicked. She'd heard "MY BALLS! AHHHHHHHHHH!" echo from the house like some unholy war horn and had rushed back barefoot, heart pounding, dress tangled around her ankles.
She stopped cold at the threshold of the Targaryen house.
It looked like a damn battlefield.
Bodies. Blood. One of the dancers lay in an unnatural yoga pose, clearly dead. A second one twitched on the ground like she was trying to remember how to breathe through a neck bent at a 90-degree angle. The musician was curled in a corner, crying like someone who'd just been pegged by a ghost.
And in the center of it all, stood Viserys.
Her brother.
The would-be king, with his long pale hair stained at the tips with someone else's life, his boots crunching wetly as he walked.
Viserys barely spared Daenerys a glance.
Cold, emotionless, like he hadn't just murdered half a room of people. His eyes slid past her like she was a wall.
He stepped right over Castratus's writhing body, no, correction, formerly writhing body. The man was barely conscious now, twitching with the sad little shudders of someone whose soul had mostly left, but forgot to turn the lights off on the way out.
To Viserys, he wasn't a man anymore. Just meat. Just failure.
Viserys approached the spot where his sharp stone had landed… and where Castratus's freshly-separated balls had fell, lonely and helpless like two peeled grapes tossed on a butcher's floor.
Then came the sound.
CRICK. CRICK. CRICK.
Viserys stepped down slowly, deliberately, on the mess with his worn leather boots.
The noise was horrid. Like stepping on dry leaves soaked in blood. Crunchy. Wet. Satisfying to break.
Daenerys gagged. Her stomach turned.
He didn't flinch. Didn't even blink.
He didn't say a word. Didn't even acknowledge her panic. Viserys just stared at Daenerys with that same cold, dead look in his eyes, like she was nothing more than a gust of wind in the middle of a battlefield.
His hand dropped down, fingers curling around the bloodied stone he had used moments ago. Still slick, still warm.
Without turning his head, without shifting his gaze, he raised his arm behind him and hurled the stone backward—casual, effortless.
A sickening crack echoed through the room. The stone smashed into Lorun's forehead with a dull thud, burying itself halfway in. The musician dropped like a puppet with its strings cut, slamming face-first into the floor.
Viserys didn't even flinch. He kept walking towards her.
Daenerys stood frozen, her breathing shallow, her fists clenched tight at her sides. Rage twisted her face, real rage. Not the kind that flared up and passed, but the kind that burned slow and deep, choking every thought in her skull.
She stared at the blood. At the corpses. At Viserys.
Castratus… the man who raised her more than Ser Willem ever did. The one who had smiled at her when her brother only scowled.
Aren… the one who shielded her more times than Viserys ever bothered to notice. And now, both were dead(According to her). Crushed. Humiliated. Killed like dogs in the dirt.
And Viserys walked through it all like it meant nothing.
Her vision blurred at the edges. Her knees buckled, her body begging to shut down like it had when Willem died. But her anger wouldn't let her collapse. It was the only thing keeping her upright.
She trembled as she watched him kick Castratus's unconscious head, sending it lolling sideways with a wet thud.
He didn't even know. Didn't know what Castratus planned. Didn't care.
He kept walking, blood on his boots and stone in his hand, until he was right in front of her.
Daenerys snapped.
Her hand swung, fast and wide, aiming to slap him across the face. "Ugh!" she gasped in pain instead, Viserys had caught her wrist mid-air like it was a joke. His grip was iron. His stare was colder than icewater. There was no humanity in it. Just judgment. Disgust.
"Stupid Barbari," he said under his breath, his voice flat and low.
His other hand came up, fast.
Thud.
A fist slammed straight into her stomach.
She folded instantly, the air ripped from her lungs. Her knees hit the floor. No grace. No defense. Just pain.
Viserys stood over her like she was dirt. As if she'd insulted something sacred.
"System... Claim Three Mysterious Eggs"
{A/N: Torture Chapter and Timeskip Incoming... HELL YEAH!By the way, we're just one review away from greatness (from getting ratings)! Please do leave a review if you've been enjoying the fic so far.
We're on a streak of 5-star reviews right now.