The Burnt Prince-GOT SI (OC x Ashara Dayne)

Part 14

Chapter 14

As the people sitting above in the booths reserved for the elites of the elite, the Ten Ruling Families, the rulers of Meereen, watched the masked men step into the ring, they became quiet even as the cheer around the pit was deafening.

The half a dozen people gathered there in that booth looked at each other as one of the younger members of the family of Zhaq broke the silence.

"How is he still alive?" the same question plagued the mind of everyone present there.

"We sent Ottar there. The people reported to me that they burnt the whole manse, the fire still raged only until a few hours ago," someone questioned.

"Did no one question or check with Ottar, whether the task was completed or not?" questioned the young master from Pahl and everyone shrugged.

"It was Ottar," came the answer, for it had always been enough. The hulking giant had yet to fail. That was until today.

"I am doomed," the young master Zhak added as everyone turned to face the young Master, who was now pacing nervously as he gripped his head.

"I had bet heavily against him today, knowing that he would not be alive to show up. The odds were good, and I had a man of my own in the fight," he said as everyone realized just how badly he had messed up.

"If he wins today, it would beggar me," he finished as silence hung in the air.

"Go to the bet master, there is still ti..." but before the words could be aired, the bell rang loudly to proclaim the beginning of the fight, and with that noise, the face of the young master Zhaq paled further as sweat began to drip down his brows.

The gathered young masters rushed forward towards the balcony to catch a glimpse of the ring below, for that was all that remained in their power.

The others backed off the masked man who stood in the center while the other warriors skirted around him. His reputation had made them gang up on him. It was a first, yet even with a dozen surrounding him, the man himself didn't look bothered as he stood there in the center, his iconic sword in hand as he glanced up, toward them.

And then it began as two of the fighters rushed towards him with a shout, and the masked man moved as well, slashing his sword across the sandy ground kicking up a storm of dirt obscuring their vision, and then all they could see were dark shadows moving through the thick cloud of dust as screams of pain and agony filled the pit until there was nothing but silence.

As the dust settled down, a lone man stood in the center of the pit. His body covered in fresh crimson blood as the bodies of all other fighters lay there beside him, all of them unmoving and bleeding, some headless, others cleaved in half. The crowd roared in cheer as the masked man once more looked towards them and then walked away as the young master from Zhaq stumbled back.

"Shit! I am doomed! They are going to kill me!" he spoke in fear of retribution from his own kin, kin which would show him no mercy.

"Perhaps there is something else we can do," another spoke up as young master Zhaq looked up at one of his fellows.

"Perhaps we need to send a message through other means."

0000

ARTHUR DAYNE

The Sword of the Morning, Arthur let his eyes roam across the capital of the continent as their ship docked in Blackwater Bay. The city was bustling, and it was easy to reason why they were at war.