DOS Ch-341

“I have to tell you something important,” I said somberly as I sat down in front of my girl.

Not really. She was thousands of miles away, and we were talking through Skype. Still, it felt like we were sitting across from each other in our living room. It was the thought that mattered.

She furrowed her brow at my tone. “Actually, I have to tell you something important, too. I was…forced to do something. I felt like I had no option at all.”

The air seemed to thicken between us, neither of us speaking for a few long seconds.

Did someone force himself on her? I swear to God that if that were to happen, I’ll make sure they’ll regret being born in this life.

“What happened?” I asked, unable to keep the worry out of my voice.

“You go first,” she insisted, glancing away from the camera as if she couldn’t quite meet my eyes.

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair before launching into it.

“I feel like shit,” I admitted. “Yesterday, I shot this sex scene with this girl. And I didn’t…hate it. Let’s just say that. Now I feel like I cheated on you.”

“And did you?” she asked quietly. “Cheat on me?”

My confusion must have shown, because she leaned closer to the camera and explained.

“For me, cheating is much more than physical intimacy. You and I have kissed dozens of people for our jobs since we started dating. Cheating was never on the table because we didn’t connect emotionally with them the way we do with each other. That’s what makes the difference. If I’m being honest, I was also feeling my sex scene with Natalie more than I should have. I just didn’t want you to judge me, so I never told you. Getting excited while being physically stimulated is a normal human reaction, so I don’t mind that.”

“You enjoyed your scene with Natalie?” I asked, a grin tugging at my lips despite myself. “Then why didn’t you invite her over? You know, for a ménage à trois? As I had suggested.”

“I didn’t tell you for this exact reason!” she burst out laughing, her earlier tension cracking. “You pervert.”

I grinned back at her, relieved to hear that sound. “I’m a pervert just for you, babe. Never without you.”

For a moment, we just looked at each other, both smiling. I knew that if we’d been in the same room, we’d be halfway across the couch by now, kissing like we hadn’t seen each other in years. My supposed infidelity would’ve been forgotten already.

“So,” she said after a beat, her expression turning serious again, “did you have an emotional connection with her?”

“No,” I replied immediately, feeling steadier now. “Not even close. I never once talked to her off set, and I’ve got no intention of doing that.”

“Good.” She nodded once, a small smile returning. “Then you didn’t cheat. The fact that you told me right away proves your intentions were good.”

I mirrored her smile, grateful for her confidence in me. “Your turn. What impossible situation were you in?”

Her smile vanished.

“I may have…” she began, hesitating. “…spoken about Woody Allen and the allegations made against him by his stepdaughter in an interview.”

“What?” I blinked at the screen, confusion replacing fear. “Is it that time already?”

“What time?” she asked, genuinely puzzled.

I sighed as the reality of the situation settled over me.

Ronan Farrow wasn’t even out there yet, pushing the story into the mainstream. This had to be a side effect of the earlier-than-usual #MeToo wave. Ever since Harvey Weinstein’s arrest, power dynamics in the industry had shifted overnight. Executives were walking on eggshells. Leading men were terrified of being alone in a room with another girl. It was only a matter of time before someone dragged Woody Allen into the center of it all again.

“What exactly did you say about that man? And what did you feel you were forced to do?” I asked, unable to keep the edge out of my voice.

“Don’t judge me before knowing the full story,” Scarlett shot back. “And if you really wanna know what I said exactly, you’d better check out the interview. It’s out on YouTube.”

I could have postponed it until after the call, but I was curious. So, I grabbed my phone and opened the YouTube app, my stomach tightening. The moment I typed her name into the search bar, the top suggestion popped up: “scarlett johansson woody allen.”

I groaned under my breath, seeing her name with that creep was bad enough for me.

The first video that appeared was the one in question. I clicked it and dragged the progress bar forward to the relevant section. It was easy to see which part it was, because it was the most viewed portion of the video, as highlighted in the progress bar. The interview seemed to be going pleasantly up to that point. Scarlett had been smiling, relaxed, charming as always.

Then the interviewer leaned forward.

“Do you think the allegations against Woody Allen, made by his own stepdaughter, were false? In the wake of the #MeToo movement, do you think celebrities should stop working with people like him?”

On screen, Scarlett visibly froze. Just for a second. It was subtle, but I saw it. Her smile faltered before she composed herself.

“I don’t know,” she said carefully. “I can’t speak for everyone in the industry. They are their own people.”

“What about you? Would you work with him again?”

Scarlett took a quick breath in before saying, “When I worked with Woody, I was very young, not even 20, and I do owe him a lot for the career he helped me build. But at the same time, it can’t be denied that he has not been the best example of how a man should behave. He never made me uncomfortable, but I wouldn’t want to work with a man I’d hesitate to leave my kids unsupervised with. So no, I would not work with Woody again. Ever.”

The interviewer tried to press further, but Scarlett handled it with practiced ease, steering the conversation away. Within a minute, the topic shifted back to [Black Swan], and the atmosphere lightened again.

I scrolled down, interested to see how the conversations were flowing in the comments.

Most of them were about the film. Some praised her performance. Others commented on how radiant she looked. But a handful stood out.

@DrPerbert: Ngl, it sounds a little ungrateful of Scarlett to snub Woody Allen so bluntly. He made her who she is today with three back-to-back hit films, which allowed her to transition into adult roles easily.

@ValentineRipoff: @DrPerbert, were you even watching the interview? She said specifically that she was grateful, but she won’t work with him again. Her reasons were polite and genuine. And after reading Woody Allen’s history, I wouldn’t want to work with him either.

@MiraSolar: I think ScarJo did a brave thing by making her stance clear. I wasn’t surprised by this move, though. After everything Troy is doing for kids’ safety, I would be disheartened if his significant other worked with Woody Allen again.

@itsmyshow: To those of you who are confused and looking for an explanation, here it is: Woody Allen married his wife’s adoptive daughter, who is 35 years younger than him. So when his other daughter alleged that he exploited her, I believe her. That man should be behind bars for the rest of his life. Kudos to Scarlett for standing up for what’s right.

I exhaled slowly and set my phone down on the desk.

When I looked back at my laptop screen, Scarlett was watching me silently, trying to read my expression.

“I ask you again,” I continued slowly. “What part of this interview did you feel you were forced to do? Do you still feel Woody Allen is a good man?”

“No, I know he’s a creep,” she said slowly, meeting my eyes this time. “But some part of me still feels that I betrayed him publicly. The man who didn’t just see me as a girl with big boobs, and actually offered me good challenging roles. In a way, I got to meet you only because of him. He cast me in [Vicky Cristina Barcelona], because of which I attended that Golden Globes. After talking to you, I knew we had something together, so I pushed my agent to get me a film with you.”

“And that’s how you got [Disturbia],” I summed up.

She inclined her head in agreement, and neither of us spoke anymore for a few more seconds.

“I think you’re thinking too much,” I broke the silence finally. “If we are taling about betrayal, should I also feel sorry for my biological mother? Since she betrayed me as well. Now she’s standing behind the shield of some psychological condition. Should I just forget what she did to me? Should the world?”

“Absolutely not!” She said heatedly. “She abused you. The whole world shoud ban her from existing if…”

She paused mid-sentence as the reality dawned upon her.

I smiled. “Just like she abused me. Woody Allen also abused his current wife, who doesn’t even realize that, and possibly Dylan as well. So if my bio-mother should be banned by the world, why not him?”

“I get it,” she said slowly, all rigidness leaving her body. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just didn’t…”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” I cut her off. “It’s natural that you would find it difficult to look past the man you’ve known for years. And it’s possible that he has grown over the years and is not a creep anymore, but people like him should be made an example of so that younger generation knows what happens if you behave like him. It doesn’t help that he never once accepted his fault or apologized. Carla did both, which makes her a great deal better than him.”

Scarlett nodded along slowly before her eyes lit up. “Speaking of Carla, when are you bringing Helen to meet Atlas and Damian? She’s been pestering me for weeks now.”

I laughed at the idea of my little sister getting to meet my sons.

“I was actually about to take a detour in London and bring her along for a few weeks. You’re not the only one she’s been pestering.”

“That’s good.” Scarlett grinned. “It feels like forever since she visited last.” She paused for a moment, before remembering something important.  “You know, Atlas laughed at me today for the first time.”

“Did he?” I asked, leaning closer to the screen despite myself.

“Yes,” she said excitedly. “I was lucky enough to get it on camera. I’ll send it to you.”

We kept talking about the boys, about their tiny milestones and ridiculous expressions, and for a while, the tension from earlier dissolved completely. I almost forgot about the most difficult scene I was supposed to shoot that day.

Almost.

(Break)

I lay in a tub filled with lukewarm water that had long since gone cold. It had been steaming when we started filming, but we’d been at it for so long that the heat had disappeared. I could’ve asked the crew to drain and refill it, but that would’ve meant more delays, more waiting. The steam could be added later in post production. What mattered was finishing the scene.

“Action!”

At Jim’s command, I opened my eyes slowly.

There was no smile, no warmth. I’d just awoken from a nightmare, and it lingered behind my gaze. My eyes darted around the chamber until they landed on a serving girl standing nearby, clearly the one who’d woken me.

I scowled at her. “Why in the seven hells did you not wake me earlier?”

“I beg your pardon, Your Grace, I thought…”

“I thought,” I mocked coldly, mimicking her tone as I grabbed her face and pulled it inches from mine. Water sloshed around us. “I can make sure this is the last breath you take in a matter of moments.”

Before she could say another word, I shoved her head under the water. Her hands clawed at my arms, splashing desperately as she struggled to free herself. I held her there, my expression unreadable.

The chamber doors opened.

Emilia Clarke, in full costume as Daenerys Targaryen, stepped inside. She halted mid-step when she saw me still in the bath, casually drowning the serving girl.

I released the girl abruptly. She surfaced with a gasp and scrambled away, coughing, crawling to the far end of the room.

I didn’t spare her another glance. My attention shifted to the new arrival.

“Well, well, well,” I said, a slow, fake grin spreading across my face as I looked at her. “If it isn’t the bride to be.”

“Brother,” she whispered, her voice trembling with shock. “I didn’t know you were still bathing.”

I finally rose from the tub and walked toward her, not wearing a single stitch of clothing. Every inch of my body lay bare for the cameras to record.

Honestly, I preferred this kind of nude scene way more than the ones where you have to wear a modesty pouch, like when I shot with Roxanne. It still baffles me how much people frown at the mere thought of frontal nudity. How is it any different from showing your butt? It’s just a different part of your body. European cinema used to be much more liberal about this stuff, but as times change and content goes global, more and more European actors are shying away from it too. That’s always irked me. So when Jim suggested we try to break some barriers with this show, I was all for it.

Water dripped down my glistening, soft skin, wetting the floor as Emilia turned away from the sight of me.

“Don’t be so shy, sister,” I said with a grin, stepping closer and tilting her head so she’d meet my eyes. “If things had gone a little differently, this could’ve been the only naked man you’d ever see for the rest of your life.”

I leaned in and forced a kiss on her lips. She was clearly repulsed as she turned her head away the moment our lips touched. Anger simmered inside me at her rejection. I grabbed her by the throat and pulled her toward me.

“You were always meant to be mine, you ungrateful wench,” I growled in her face. “But Khal Drogo has an army, and I’d happily let him and his forty thousand men fuck you if it gives me that throne.”

Then I shoved my hands inside her clothes and tore them apart. She whimpered in shock and tried to cover herself, but I forced her hands down.

“Now, now. You don’t want to wake the dragon, do you?”

She didn’t reply. I pulled her head back by the hair and leaned in closer. “Do you?”

“N-No, brother.”

“Thought so.” I released her hair and stepped back just as another serving girl approached with a robe. I slipped it on quickly, then turned to the first girl. “Make sure my sister’s perfectly ready for the arrival of her future husband. If he rejects her for some reason, forgetting to wake me up will be the least of your worries.”

With that, I turned and walked out of the bathroom, leaving a naked and humiliated Daenerys behind.

“Cut!”

James Cameron’s voice rang across the set. Right away, an assistant ran over to cover Emilia up. Since I’d worn a robe during the scene, I didn’t need one. I just stood there, waiting for the verdict.

“It’s great,” the director announced after a few moments. “I think this one was exactly what I was looking for. It’s perfect.”

“Wait a minute,” I interrupted before the crew could start celebrating too early. “Let me take a look at that.”

Cameron gave me a look. “Don’t you trust me?”

“It’s not about that.” I shook my head and pointed at my body. “This’ll be my naked debut. I need to see if I look good.”

Cameron didn’t seem thrilled with the request, but he obliged anyway. We both walked toward the monitor, where Jim replayed the scene.

I watched as I shouted at the serving girl before forcing her head under the water. I winced at the calm, collected expression on my face when I drowned her. Like it was just another Tuesday. What was wrong with me?

When I finally let go of the poor girl and stepped out of the tub, I couldn’t help but admire Jim’s craftsmanship. I wasn’t wearing anything, and the camera was focused directly on my front side. My dick was out. Yet it didn’t look vulgar at all. Shadows fell perfectly across my body, making me look almost ethereal. Like a slightly less perfect version of a Greek God. It was a piece of art.

I’m not into men, but if in some universe I were, I’d totally do myself.

And then the next moment, I started torturing and humiliating Daenerys, which made me hate myself all over again. The worst part was the cold satisfaction behind my eyes as I finished the scene. It wasn’t the sheer joy of madness you’d see in the Joker’s face. This was cold detachment. Like he knew he was above everyone else, and others were just there to serve him.

“You were right,” I muttered. “This is good. This is exactly what Viserys needs to be. Although…” I trailed off.

“Although?” Jim asked.

“I hate myself already despite knowing this is all pretend.” I tried to explain. “Some people, like the ones who think I’m like the characters I play, will absolutely hate me when the show comes out.”

Jim shrugged. “That’d just prove you did a great job. So now suck it up and go back to your family. Your job here is done.”

He was right. It was finally done. It didn’t feel like it, but it was.

Time to go back to Atlas, Damian, and Scarlett.