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

Part 19

Chapter 19

Two months had passed since the Great Burning of Meereen, where several manses and fields in the city had been burnt by what was declared a Dothraki raid. A lie yet, one written by those in power, and so few could challenge their word.

The Dothraki had come indeed, more accurately they had been led to many manses and fields, with both getting burnt and looted, their occupants either taken away as slaves or pushed into the very flames that raged around them. Thousands had died, and nearly the same number had been taken away.

It was a loss for Meereen as a whole, yet in one of the more affluent manses in the city, the young master of the Zhaq family celebrated with the other rich sons and daughters of the city's ruling families.

"None have seen a glimpse of the man in the mask, some believe he was burnt as he tried to rescue the slaves from the fire, others say that he went chasing after the Dothraki," Furha Zhaq announced in a joyous mood, a contrast from the sombreness from a week ago.

"Good riddance, it is good that we are finally rod that scourge. He was beginning to give the slaves some bolder ideas," one of the distant cousins of the family spoke.

"Yes, this should get them back in line. Still, I cannot believe the idiot denied an offer to join the family," one of the other people related to him.

"He was delusional," he added, drunk and disoriented as the slaves danced around him.

"He thought he could overthrow us, beat us. US! The rulers of MEEREEN!" he shouted in a drunken pride, his words slurring as he recalled those amethyst eyes looking at him like an insignificant bug.

Now, he was gone. Ashes and bones, for he had not learned his place and had tried to reach beyond his means.

"LET ME RAISE A GLASS!" he slurred as he picked up a goblet, as others cheered him on, many of them the very people who had skirted away their gazes when he had been in trouble.

"TO THE DAMNED MONSTER WITH THE MASK...." and the roar was deafening as the music flowed, and slaves danced all around, some languished in the pleasures of the flesh being offered, from Lyseni whores, to Pentoshi singers, there was variety enough to satisfy anyone and everyone.

Lost in such pleasure, he missed the screams of the guards until a few of them rushed in through the closed gates.

"MY LORD...." but before they could get more out, they were struck down as well as screams and shrieks filled the massive Hall. The sight of blood sent the celebrating lords and ladies screaming, as a small group of men entered the Hall.

The drunkenness had been wiped away from him by the sight of blood, and the young master of the Zhaq family tried to cover himself up as he roared.

"Who DARESS TO DEFILE THESE HALL...." but his words stopped as he saw an all too familiar face enter the Hall, clad in black armor and a steel mask over his face. It was him again, the Liberator, and as he felt those eyes land on him.

"YOU!" he shrieked in rage as two dozen men wearing the same masks began to slaughter all the guards and spill away all the wine and the oils.

"YOU LIVE," he uttered in a daze, recognizing that stature, that mask, and those amethyst eyes. The very eyes that had brought him and his House to near desolation. He had thought this chapter ended, yet it seemed it was not quite over yet.

"HAVE YOU NOT LEARNT YOUR LESSON? LET US GO!" he shouted as he tried to rush towards the man, taking out the dagger from his pocket to attack him.