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

Part 18

Chapter 18

Daemon Targaryen was accustomed to death and killing. He had himself slain hundreds, thousands of men until now, with his own hands. Yet his killings had been done in retaliation, drawing his blade against people who stood against him, trying to do the same to him.

Yet even he had not seen this level of butchery. The Wise Masters of Meereen were slavers dealing in human flesh, and they had done so for centuries now, and that brought with it a sense of disregard for human life that few could fathom.

And as he watched the smoke rising from his fields as the great pyres settled down, as men, women, and children wailed beside him, he understood a part of that disregard.

The fires had burned for the better part of the day, and he himself had walked into them, trying to save children from them, yet he was but one man. All his fields and his manses had been lit on fire, and his freed slaves had been bound inside. The raging fires had reduced their bodies to nothing but charred husks.

Of his eight hundred slaves, only fifty remained, and even amongst them, many would die succumbing to their burns, and he realized just what he was dealing with here. He had wished to build for himself a power base here, one which he planned to utilise to depose his own father.

Yet these people were savages, inhuman. And as he glanced at the wailing women and children, he realized that this all was because of him. That all this death today was because of him.

He could abandon them and continue with his ways, yet what would that make him? An accomplice. An accomplice to this massacre.

No.

He would not. And so, with a final glance at the charred men's remains of humans, he began to walk back.

"Make preparations for the funerals; I shall provide the funds," he ordered one of the men still left standing. Morro was his name. He had saved a slave fighter from the pits, and as he was about to walk past him, he found another figure standing there.

The Red Priestess from the temple. She gazed at him with wide eyes and an exalted expression.

"The fire doesn't touch you," she gasped, and he realized that she had been here longer than he expected. But he was in no mood to entertain her.

"May it does, maybe it doesn't." And just as he was about to walk away.

"I have the answer for you," and he stilled at those words and glanced back into her eyes.

"You asked me what it would take to break the curse. I have the answer for you," she spoke as his heart raced.

"What?" he asked as he prepared himself.

"Blood," she answered, and he had expected that.

"Enough blood to bask the streets of Meereen in Red," and his fists balled up as his eyes went towards the largest pyramid of the city.

"If it's blood, it needs. Then Blood I shall spill, as much as it needs."

0000

JON ARRYN

The rebellion against the Mad King had begun from the very ground, and he now stood on as more than a year after the greatest tourney of the century, many lords gathered in the desolate castle once more as they came to suspect on the ending of the war.

And as the flag bearers of the two factions walked into the ring, the whole place became quiet as the implication of this one duel dawned on everyone. This duel would essentially decide the future of the Seven Kingdoms.