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

Part 11

Chapter 11

In the Greatest of the three cities of Slaver's Bay, gigantic pyramids overlooked the expanded city of Meereen. Many in number, yet few matched the splendor of the Great Pyramid, touted as one of the wonders of the world with the Golden Harpy atop it, standing there in all its glory for all to see.

The city was ruled by ten Great families, families that traced their origins back to the time of the Ghiscari Empire of the Old. The ten families had many disputes among them, old rivalries and grudges, yet they stood together as well, some of them richer than the others, others much less.

And now, they all sat together under the Great Harpy once more in the dwindling night as they convened to discuss a rising threat to their hegemony.

"He is dangerous," one of the men began from the side as the ten people sat in the Great Hall underneath the pyramid, with its great balconies overlooking the city.

"We still no nothing of him except that he was dropped here by those wretched Red Priests and, from that day, has been fighting in the pits," he continued, and there was little need to elaborate about whom he talked for by now the whole bay had heard of the problem that plagued their city.

"I don't see the problem here. He has broken no laws. At least not yet," another, much older man added. The younger man who had started the conversation was quick to retort.

"The laws do not matter. He is a danger to us. I can feel it. He is not human, for no man is capable of what he has done. Over a hundred victories! Hundred! Do you have any idea what it means," he nearly shouted.

"You only sat that because your family owes him substantial debts!" a man from the side added with a cocky grin, his hair silvery blonde as he sat there with his legs resting on the table, a cluster of small red grapes being fed to him by a slave beside him.

His words made the young man splutter in rage, yet he didn't deny that allegation.

"I am afraid Zhak is not the only one indebted to this masked man. Many of the small families owe the man quite a substantial sum of money, including many at this table," added another voice from the gathered men. Again, the allegations weren't denied.

"How did it even get this bad?" a question was asked, for this occurrence, while unfortunate, seemed planned rather than a coincidence.

"He taunts and goads men into betting against him. I was told that once he bet each penny to his name on the fighting pit, and when he emerged victorious, he won himself a whole manse and a whole crew of slaves. Slaves which he then went on to free, whoever he is, he is dangerous." The man continued.

"He has not called in many of the debts yet. But if he were to at any moment, he would have enough money to disrupt the balance. A balance which we have painstakingly maintained over the past hundred years. We must act,"

Then, a consensus was reached as all the men gave their nod, and one of them finally spoke up.

"The so be it, it is decided. Send Ottar and his men, and let us rid of this man!"

0000

OBERYN MARTELL

Dorne was not like the rest of the kingdoms. It was unbowed, unbent, and unbroken. It was proud of its heritage and resilience, and that pride ran deep from the marshes to the Planky shore of the land.

And that pride had been wounded twice over, first by the Prince when he rode past his own lady wife, the Princess of Dorne to crown that whore from North with that flowered crown. His blood had boiled in rage at the sight, and it had taken nearly all his patience and self-control not to skewer the silvery Prince right then and there for the disrespect he had dolled out.