Someone had dragged benches from every tavern in the lower district, and the wood still reeked of spilled ale beneath the fresh sawdust. Patrons perched on their wooden seats, sticky fingers pointing at the stage like it was puppet theater day at the market. An old woman near the front unwrapped cheese from a greasy cloth, taking a thoughtful bite as she settled in for the show.

The stage itself looked hasty with the nail heads still shiny, and boards that didn't quite match each other. But it did the job, everyone could see, and they would all remember.

Griffin shifted his weight, just slightly, feeling the sweat gather beneath his armor despite the cool afternoon. He kept catching himself grinding his teeth, he really had to stop that. The Queen would notice. She noticed everything these days, especially since... well. That night. His eyes dragged across the crowd, then back to the accused. That little fuck who'd literally fallen from nowhere, right into their world, at the exact moment before everything went to shit.

‘Convenient’, he thought, then pushed the thought away. It wasn’t his job to think. His job right now was to stand here and look imposing while justice ran its course.

Orestes stood across the stage, where he was doing that thing where he went completely still. But, Griffin knew him well enough by now to spot the tells; the way his thumb kept twitching against his thigh, the slight movement of his jaw that meant his secondary teeth were pressing against his palate. The big man hated crowds, he despised performance. Probably was wishing they could just handle this the old way, quick and clean in a dungeon somewhere.

When Margaux stood, her dress made this soft rustling sound that somehow carried further than it should have. Funny how silence could do that, carry such small sounds until they become enormous. The black fabric looked wrong on her somehow, like seeing a sword wrapped in silk. Those ridiculous white sleeves belonged on someone else, someone who hadn't spent twenty years earning every one of those little scars that decorated her knuckles.

She moved down those steps like she was still in armor. Griffin had seen her do the same thing approaching enemy lines with that careful walk that conveyed the message of ‘I am in complete control’ even when shit was falling apart around them.

"Citizens." Her voice hit the crowd like a slap. Not loud, but it had that quality that made you shut up and listen. "Thank you for answering the summons. For bearing witness to the administration of justice."

She let that last word hang there on its own. ‘Justice’, like they all knew what that meant as the rather simple concept it seemed to be.

"We gather today not in celebration, but in necessity." Her hands stayed locked behind her back. "The crown does not delight in these proceedings, but neither can it shirk its duties. When crimes are committed against the realm, against the very foundation of our society, there must be accountability, and there must be consequence."

Griffin watched her turn toward the accused, and saw the afternoon sun catch those green eyes and turn them almost gray. For just a second, maybe even less, something like guilt flickered across her face. But then it was gone, replaced by that stone-cold military mask she always wore.

"The accused stands charged with regicide." Not 'allegedly’, or even ‘suspected of.' Just a flat fact, delivered like the trial had already ended.

"With the murder of King Edmund Karis, beloved sovereign of the Heart territories, husband, and protector of this realm." Her voice caught, just barely, on ‘husband’, so minor you could have missed it. But Griffin knew her and knew how she'd looked that morning, standing over Edmund's body. Her nightgown soaked in his blood from apparently trying to stop the bleeding that had already stopped.

"The crime occurred on the night of the twenty-third of March, between the hours of midnight and dawn, in the royal chambers of the Crimson Palace."

Orestes had been the first one through the door that night, and had seen everything. The window forced open, with the broken glass on the floor. The King's throat cut opened up like a second mouth. And Margaux, kneeling beside the bed. She was not crying, or even screaming, she was just staring. Like her brain couldn't process what her eyes were seeing.

"The evidence indicates forced entry through the eastern window. The King's death occurred by blade, with multiple wounds to the torso and throat. The weapon was a standard-issue infantry knife. It was recovered at the scene."

Standard issue, the kind that any soldier could get their hands on. It even filled armories across the kingdom. Griffin's own backup blade was the same model, sitting in his quarters right now.

"The accused, who appeared in our realm mere hours before the murder through means yet unexplained, had no alibi, no witnesses to account for their whereabouts during the critical hours." The crowd murmured at that fact. They all knew the story by now, about how this stranger had literally materialized in the market square. Confused and babbling about impossible things. And then, that very night, their King was dead. What were the fucking odds?

Margaux waited for the whispers to die down before continuing.

"However," she said. Her voice not softer, but it was different from the previous tone. Like she was forcing herself to say the next words. "This crown recognizes that even the accused deserve the opportunity to speak. To present their version of events. To offer explanation or defense."

She faced the accused fully now. Her shoulders set harder, like she was bracing for impact. "So I ask you now, before these witnesses, before this court: What happened on the night of the twenty-third of March? What is your account of the events that led to the King's death?" A few crows circled overhead, probably drawn by the crowd, hoping someone would drop food.

The dungeon swallowed sound. Down here, stone absorbed everything; every scream that had ever bounced against the walls, every plea that had died on desperate lips, and every breath drawn. The walls remembered, and they would always continue keeping their secrets.

This chamber far dwarfed human scale. Vaulted ceilings disappeared into shadow despite the golden light that leaked through narrow slitted windows near what might serve as the roof. Iron rings as thick as a man's thigh jutted from the floor at intervals that gave the impression of being needed by something with a massive wingspan, or a wide tail-sweep, and the massive bulk of something ancient. The breeding contraption itself stood at the chamber's center, a construction of wood, leather and iron that had been built by a craftsmen who understood bizarre anatomy.

Margaux's footsteps made no sound against the stone. She'd come down here directly from her chambers, still wearing the nightgown she'd collapsed into after the trial. Her ginger hair had escaped its military bun during a fitful nap, wild curls hanging around her face and shoulders in a way that made her look younger and more human. The trial of the king's murderer should have brought some relief, maybe even closure, but instead she'd woken in darkness with her pillow soaked and her throat raw yet again.

She addressed the empty air first, a habit born from decades of military command.

"The Deck Realms operate on principles of balance." Her enunciation is crisp, although something ragged lingered beneath the words. "Crime demands penance. Murder demands payment. The law is absolute."

She moved closer to the breeding contraption that would hold its occupant at an angle that left them tilted. They were elevated, with their legs spread and secured by padded restraints that wouldn't chafe even during a prolonged struggle. With their arms extended forward and locked into position. The contraption's design allowed for adjustment, full rotation, and height modification. It could be tilted to allow for different angles of penetration, or it could even be inverted entirely. Every joint featured quick-release mechanisms that could be operated with one hand.

"This is called the Breeding Accord," Margaux continued, stopping just before the standing figure. Her grey-green eyes looked almost colorless in the dungeon light. "It's an alternative to execution, one that requires you to endure what most would rather die than face. Forever. There's no end date to this. You'll serve time here until you stop breathing. And during all that time, you'll be available whenever Griffin and Orestes need relief."

Griffin and Orestes entered behind her, their armor making scratching metallic sounds as they flanked the contraption. Griffin moved to the left. While Orestes took the right.

"My guards," Margaux said, gesturing first to the stoic one, then to the other. "Both of them can shift into dragons. Both of them will use you however they want, whether they're wearing skin or scales."

She circled behind the contraption, examining the leather straps that would secure their thighs, then the spreader bar that kept their ankles apart. Finally landing her gaze on the neck support that prevented most strain while maintaining an optimal penetration angle. Her fingers traced the wood grain of the frame, it was polished smooth by a craftsmen who obviously took pride in their work, no matter how unsightly the purpose was.

"When they're like this, you'll take their cocks." Her voice remained flat and business-like, as if she were simply describing supply chains. "They're both hung like the beasts they are. Thick enough that you'll feel stretched and used. When they shift, you'll take their ovipositors. They'll breed you full of eggs and you'll carry them until your body expels them naturally."

Griffin tilted his head, his black eyes fixed on the condemned figure. "The king-killer turned into a cumdump. There's gotta be some kinda poetry in that." His voice held a polished Diamond-suit accent. "Think you'll sound the same when you're begging us to stop? The King probably begged too. You know, begged you not to kill him. When, you murdered him.”

"Griffin." Orestes' deep voice cut through the vulgar taunting.

"What? We're not in court anymore, brother." Griffin stepped closer to the contraption, with a hand trailing along the wooden frame. "Down here we can be honest."

Margaux continued circling, coming around to stand in front of {{user}} once again. She looked exhausted, with dark circles under her eyes that makeup would have been hiding during the day.

"You'll have a room. It’ll be small, but it's yours when they're not using you. You'll be fed, watered, and kept clean enough that you don't rot." She spoke like she was ticking off an inventory list. "No unnecessary torture. No beatings just for fun. But make no mistake; when Griffin or Orestes want you, they'll have you. Day or night. However many times they need. That's what free use means."

Her hand came up, almost as if she were reaching toward their face, then simply dropped away instead. Something shifted across her expression, it could have been grief, or rage, it was something far too complicated to name. The King's face superimposed itself over everything these days. His laugh, his kindness, even the way he'd looked at her with such hurt before she'd—

Before the murderer had killed him.

"You took someone from this realm who mattered." Margaux's voice went quiet. There was an intimate quality in its rawness. "You took him from me. And this? This is me being merciful. Remember that when you're choking on dragon cock."

She stepped back, straightening her shoulders, and forcing her expression into something more resolute. Her hand rose in a simple, decisive gesture toward Orestes and Griffin.

Griffin's smile spread slowly across his face. "About fucking time. I've been thinking about this since we dragged them down here."

Orestes didn't smile, but his dull red eyes fixed on the figure, his focus narrowing to a single point. "Justice served," he said quietly, already reaching for the buckle of his armor.

“More like ‘Justice serviced’ am I right?” Griffin added in with a snicker as he reaches for his own buckle. The joke received a groan from both Orestes and The Queen.

The groundling's words hung in the air like poison gas seeping through the assembled crowd. Margaux felt her spine lock rigid, each vertebra clicking into place like a soldier snapping to attention.

Orestes moved first. "You murdered him." His voice cracked like a whip across the stone while his careful military facade shattered into fragments. The massive guard turned on Margaux, his bulk suddenly threatening rather than protective as understanding dawned across his features. "The King is dead by your hand, not the groundling's."

Each forward step he took forced her back another, until her heels caught on the edge of the rough planks of the hastily constructed stage.

"Orestes—" Margaux's commanding voice failed her entirely, instead emerging thin and strangled with a sudden, real fear.

"Everything we've done to them was built on your lie." His face contorted as his usually composed expression twisted into something raw and bleeding with betrayal. "I believed in you because I believe in justice, I—" His voice broke entirely before rebuilding itself into a roar that shook the very platform. "You made me hunt an innocent while the real murderer gave the orders!"

Griffin rushed to get between them so fast the air itself seemed to tear. "Get the fuck back, brother, right now.”

"She killed the King." Orestes' hands were already shifting, his fingernails elongating into claws as scales began pushing through his skin.

"That's impossible." Griffin's tone was solid, but underneath it ran genuine confusion. "Tell him it's impossible, my Queen."

Margaux's silence stretched between them like a taut wire.

"No." Griffin's voice dropped into something hollow and strange. "No, you didn't. Margaux, tell me you didn't—"

"Our duty is to protect her regardless of what she's done." But, even as Griffin spoke, his voice cracked on the words.

"Our duty was to the crown which she has defiled with regicide!" Orestes' laugh parted his words. "She murdered him and then made us torture an innocent in her name—"

"Then we protect her anyway because that's what loyalty means." Griffin's body was trembling now, caught between transformation and desperate denial. "Whatever she's done, wherever she's led us, we follow."

The silence lasted less than a heartbeat before everything exploded.

Orestes lunged with speed that was faced with the same amount of strength. Griffin met him mid-transformation, their bodies contorting and expanding as draconic flesh erupted from their human shells in a wet, catastrophic emergence. Scales burst through skin in sounds like tearing silk multiplied by thunder. The stage exploded beneath their suddenly massive weight, planks flying like shrapnel while citizens screamed and scattered, trampling each other in their haste to flee the metamorphosing titans.

Margaux stumbled backward, her queenly composure was evaporating as she watched her two guardians, her only remaining anchors in this world, tear into each other with desperate fury.

Orestes' form was brutality made manifest, crimson scales arranged like tactical armor while his secondary jaw unhinging to reveal multiple rows of serrated teeth. "You're choosing her over everything we swore to uphold!" His voice reverberated from multiple throats simultaneously. "Over truth, over justice, over the very foundation of law itself!"

Griffin's serpentine body coiled and struck like divine judgment, black scales edged in gold catching the triple-sun's light as he moved. "My loyalty isn't to abstracts or concepts or laws written by dead men—it's to the woman who pulled me from death itself!"

They crashed through the remaining courthouse structure with devastating force, sending wood and stone crumbling like paper beneath their mass. Orestes' six eyes blazed with righteous fury as he caught Griffin's throat between his jaws that could crush marble, slamming him into the ground hard enough to crater the earth itself. Griffin's tail whipped around with bone-breaking force, catching Orestes across the face and sending him reeling backward through three market stalls.

"She made us accomplices to the highest crime in the realm!" Orestes roared while launching skyward, his wings creating hurricane-force winds.

Griffin followed with matching speed, their massive forms blotting out entire portions of the perpetual sunset. "She gave us everything we are, and you would abandon her at the first test of that loyalty!"

They collided mid-air with a sound like the world was breaking. The shockwave flattened nearby buildings, sent carriages tumbling end over end, stripped leaves from trees a quarter mile away. Margaux watched from below with her face draining of all color as Orestes' claws raked furrows in Griffin's flank deep enough to expose muscle, as Griffin's fangs found purchase in Orestes' shoulder and tore away scales and flesh in massive chunks.

"No..." The word escaped her in a whisper that might have been a prayer.

They spiraled together in a death embrace, neither yielding an inch. Orestes' tail swept out with crushing force to catch Griffin's wing at the joint. They plummeted like falling stars, and crashed into the fountain at the square's center with enough force to crack the bedrock beneath. Water exploded outward in a massive geyser that reached a hundred feet skyward. When it cleared, they were rolling and thrashing in the ruins, each trying to pin the other while their blood mixed with the fountain's water to create crimson rivers through the cobblestones.

"The law means absolutely nothing without her to give it purpose!" Griffin's composure had shattered entirely, leaving only devotion mixed with the agony of betrayal.

"The law means everything precisely because it exists beyond any single person!" Orestes' bone spurs extended like swords, scoring lines across Griffin's scales that immediately welled with dark blood.

Another collision that shook the very foundations of nearby buildings. The force of their battle vibrated through the air itself was a physical thing that drove Margaux to her knees.

"NO!" The scream tore from her throat with enough raw agony to make several fleeing citizens stop and turn.

But they didn't stop their assault, they couldn't when everything they believed had been shattered. Two ideologies made flesh, tearing each other apart while their blood rained down like an unholy storm. Her personal guards who had never disagreed on anything that mattered. Her confidants who had stood together through every battle. The only two who'd seen her at her weakest, who'd known her before the crown's weight had bent her spine. Fighting to the death over her sin while she watched helplessly from below.

Something cold and final settled over Margaux's features as she pushed herself to standing. Her hands moved to the elaborate gown, her fingers finding hidden clasps she'd insisted on despite the seamstress's protests. The ridiculous court dress fell away in pieces, revealing the practical military attire she always wore beneath. Old habits from her service days that she'd never quite abandoned.

Her sword sang its war song as she drew it from its concealed sheath, the blade catching the strange triple-light in ways that made it seem to burn.

She stalked toward the groundling, the crowd parting before her advance like wheat before a scythe. Her voice, when it did come, carried the full authority of the crown mixed with the ice of absolute fury poorly contained.

"You did this to them." The words dropped like executioner's axes while above them Griffin screamed as Orestes' claws found his eye. "You turned them against each other with your truth. You could have kept silent, have LEFT this realm and allowed us to…” But a furious scream tears her throat instead of more words.