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

Part 25

Chapter 25

Daemon watched the Dothraki back away from him as he stood there drenched in blood, sword in one hand and severed head in another. He had known that the slave Masters would not give up their powers so easily, and this constant harassment of the city was a result of that.

Those fuckers had scurried away with much of their wealth as the violence had truly begun and now had sought refuge in Yunkai and Astapor and were being supported by the slavers there for if Meereen truly became free, then soon enough, Yunkai and Astapor would fall as well.

"Is there anyone who wishes to challenge me!" he shouted as he raised the head of the young Khal, Khal Drogo, and the Khalasar backed away, fear evident on their faces as he threw the head and turned his back on them, and turned towards his men.

"Spare one and kill the rest of the attackers. Let it be known what becomes of those who come to slave Meereen," he ordered, and the men nodded.

'AHHHH!' and the fighting began once more, and so this battle would be carved into the histories, and no khalasaar or mercenary company would dare take up arms against them.

.

.

"You are leaving again," Morro asked as he found himself sitting with a complement of thirteen. Meereen had been divided into thirteen sections, each nominating a representative to the council, with a fourteen-seat remaining empty to this day for him.

"Yes, it is time for me to go home," he said, already reports were coming about the tourney at Harrenhall and how the Prince had abducted the young daughter of Lord Stark and the betrothed of Lord Robert Baratheon.

"Home?" Morro asked in surprise as all thirteen began to look at one another. He was surprised because this was the first time he had openly declared his origins. All thirteen gathered here today were men who had been with him since day one. They were the ones who had survived the first fire, in which nine in ten of those who had served him had lost their kin.

"Yes, home," he said as he sighed.

"I know all of you must have speculated on my identity? Thought about who I am? Today, you will have your answers," he said and saw them perk up at those words.

"But I warn you, what you are about to witness is not pretty...," he said as he reached for the white blood-stained scarf that covered his head and began to unbind it.

"...it will haunt you," he said and saw a few more intelligent among them already begin to make the connection. After all, the burning of a Prince by his own father was not small news, and words of his demise had even reached lands across the Narrow Sea.

"My real name is Daemon Targaryen, the second born son of Aerys II Targaryen, the Mad King...." he began. They all gasped as the white blood-stained cloth fell away revealing his charred, and burnt skin to all of them, and he saw their faces pale, as few evaded their gazes, as he reached for the mask.

"...though you may have heard of a different name...." and with a final breath, he pulled off his mask, feeling bare under all those gazes.

"GODS!" SEVEN HELL!" "HOW COULD THIS BEE!"

"....the Burnt Prince."

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DAEMON TARGARYEN

The demise of the Dragons had weakened House Targaryen more than few could imagine. No amount of men, gold, or influence could replace the might of a dragon.