The Burnt Prince- GOT SI Ch.18 (Patreon)

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.

The drums began to beat as Robert and Daemon circled each other, both taking out their weapons. The Targaryen Prince had only a sword in his hands, valyrian steel in its make with a red ruby that glew ominously embossed in its hilt.

His armor was also lighter, unlike Robert's, who wore full plate while wielding his behemoth war hammer, which weighed more than a cart. Yet he picked it up and swung it as if it weighed nothing.

And then it began, with a shot from Robert that quieted the whole clearing. The Baratheon lord pounced on the Prince as he swung his Warhammer for his face, yet the Prince avoided the blow at the last second, stepping back. His heart wrung in desperation as he saw his sword cutting through the air, inching towards Robert’s neck.

Yet Robert was able to react in time. He brought up his shield and sword and slid off it. He spun on his and swung his war hammer once more at the masked prince.

The Prince slid under his swing as he kicked Robert’s leg, pushing him off balance, yet before he could take a swing, Robert reacted in time to push off the Prince with his shield, and the Prince let the momentum push him back as Robert glared at the Prince.

“He is good,” added the infamous Blackfish from the side. Houster Tully's younger brother had been watching the duel beside him.

“He is,” he added, and it was clear about whom they were talking of, for they had seen and sparred with Robert all this time and knew what to expect from him.

Yet for the Prince, they had heard only rumors, rumors that had been proven right by this little exchange.

“Seeing Robert fight and facing him are completely different things. Despite his size, Baratheon moves as fast as a damned cat. Yet the Prince was completely unfazed by his agility,” Blackfish added, and he nodded as the Prince cracked his neck. Jon felt the air in the clearing shift as the Prince gripped his sword with both his hands and got into a full stance.

“And I fear we haven’t seen the true extent of his ability just yet,”

0000

ROBERT BARATHEON

Despite how people perceived him, the Baratheon lord was not as oblivious or unaware of the gossip around him. Given his size and nature, many assumed him to be uninterested or mentally incapable of understanding the games that went around him.

Yet Robert Baratheon saw all, and only he did not bother himself with the little games. He desired little in life, freedom to hunt and kill, to fuck and to drink as he pleased, and if being King would grant him this freedom, then he would sit on that damned chair.

“I can see why they would call you a demon,” uttered the masked bastard, who stood in his way as his leg throbbed in pain. Despite his size, that damned dragon spawn’s hit had carried quite some strength, and Robert did not miss how the very metal had been sunken from his blow as the masked bastard held his blade with both hands.

“But you are still no match for me,” he taunted as Robert grit his teeth.

“I will show, you bastard!” he shouted as he raised his shield. The Prince rushed towards him, and he did not miss how much faster he was than he had been earlier, yet it would matter little.

One strike. All he had to get was one strike.

And he swung again, down at the Prince, yet he evaded his blow once more by stepping to the side. His breath hitched as he saw the sword rush for his face through the visor of his face. He pushed up his shield, and as he pushed the blade away, the clash of metals sent sparks flying as he tried to batter him with his shield.

“AGHHH!” he shouted as he pushed his shield, yet the Prince spun on his heel and slashed at his arm, as Robert felt pain throb through his arm. Yet, the cut was not deep as he swung his hammer at him once more, aiming it at his side. The bastard did not shrink away and in a display of unoimaginableunimaginable strength, rushed into his chest and pushed him with his shoulder and Robert was surprised as he was forced off his feet with a push.

Such strength.

Such strength. Yet he couldn’t fall, for that would mean the end of the fight, just as the blade coming for his head would. And so he ground his feet as he twisted his head, the sword going past it, catching the horns fashioned onto his helmet and cutting one clean off, before suddenly Robert brought up his shield and tried to retaliate.

“Do you truly believe anyone believes this whole act of yours,” the masked bastard uttered as he attacked Robert from the other side. Robert barely used his shield to parry his strikes, which were becoming faster and faster.

“Do not kid yourself! You love Lyanna Stark. Please, everyone knows you are just using her name,” and Robert’s anger flared up at those words as he felt his sword pierce his skin a number of times, yet the wounds were too shallow.

“DO NOT TAKE HER NAME WITH YOUR FILTHY MOUTH!” and in his rage, Robert swung his shield with all his might, disturbing his footing, as he swung his Warhammer at his chest as he had done so for Rhaegar.

“I WILL END YOU! YOU DRAGONSPAWNNN!” he shouted, yet the Prince was unbothered as he suddenly pushed forward, surprising him as he used the opening created by this wild swing.

“You do not love her,” he uttered as he swung his fist at him, hitting him in the chin.

“AGHH!” Robert grunted in pain as he stumbled back, his helmet falling to the ground as he was surprised by the strength in that blow.

“You are just using her for your own gain,” the bastard taunted as Robert raged.

“AGHHH!” he swung at him once more, bringing down his hammer at him, yet the bastard slid away once more as Robert fell to his knee as the Prince kicked him in the knee.

CRUNCH!

Pain rippled through him as he felt his bones break from the force in that strike as the bastard swung his blade once more.

“ARGH!” he grunted in pain as he stumbled back to avoid the sword coming for his neck.

Robert’s heart raced as he felt blood drip down his cheek, a small cut.

He tried to push himself forward, using his other leg. He let go of his shield, feeling its weight imbalance him as he waited for the Prince to close the distance once more.

“And the thought of her loving you. YOU!” the Prince chuckled as he taunted him, making his face flush as Robert’s grip on his Warhammer tightened.

“You, the Lord of whoring, drinking and fighting! You are but an overgrown brute,” and Robert grits his teeth as he pushes forward.

“I WILL KILL YOU! SHUT YOUR DAMNED MOUTH!” he shouted as he brought down his Warhammer with all his might and realized his mistake as soon as he saw those purple eyes glint. And as he saw the sword coming for his head, his breath left him as he pushed himself using his broken leg despite the pain.

“ARGH!” yet it was not enough as the sword found its way through the gap in his armor and pierced through his left shoulder.

But this was it!

He did not let him pull back as he pushed through the pain and swung his hammer at his side, surprising him and forcing him to jump back to avoid the strike as he was forced to let go of his blade.

CHUNK!
Yet he was not fast enough, as Robert saw the bastard grunt in pain as he held his side.

Robert plucked out the sword and ignored the pain. Not surprised by its weight, it was Valyrian steel, so he dropped it behind him and smirked.

“You are not running your mouth now, are you? YOU BASTARD!” he grunted, yet it was a boast. He was in too much pain; the blade had cut through his shoulder, rendering his whole left arm useless.

The bastard reached into his side and took out a small dagger as he looked him in the eye.

“I think it time to end this,” and he saw his eyes narrow as his heart beat violently in his chest, and Robert tightened his grip over his hammer as he realized that this was it.

The Bastard rushed towards him as Robert shouted and raised his Warhammer into the air.

“Let me show you what I did to your damned brother! How I caved in his chest with a single blow!” he shouted as the Prince suddenly threw the dagger at him, surprising him, and in his surprise, he could not move in time as the little blade hit him in the side of the neck, as searing pain rose through him.

Yet he would not die, not like this. If he was going to die, he was going to take this dragon spawn with him.

“ARGH!” he shouted in rage as he kicked the mud off the ground straight at his face.

“AGH!” as he tried to shield his eyes, Robert realized that this was it and brought down his hammer with all his might.

THUNK!

Yet the hammer hit no flesh and hit the ground and was sunken deep into the muddy ground as he saw the bastard’s face right infront of him, as he stared into his eyes as suddenly he felt unimaginable pain from his hand, and glanced down to see his fingers had been cut with a dagger.

“ARGH!” he grunted in pain as the bastard kicked his chest, sending Robert tumbling back, dislodging the blade stuck in his neck.

He was showered in red blood, his own blood, as his heart thumped in his chest. His vision was dyed red as he saw the bastard reach for his own war hammer.

He plucked it from the ground with a single hand as Robert realized the end was here. He struggled to get back to his feet, yet he had lost too much blood. He was lightheaded, his arms useless as he tried to stop blood from gushing out of his neck.

In a display of strength, the bastard plucked out his hammer with a single hand, much to his surprise, as he began to walk towards him.

“Did you really think that you could become the King? That you could destroy a legacy that has stood tall for three hundred years!” the Prince shouted as Robert’s vision began to swim.

“I would have won if....wa..s..t...for you!” he grunted out as he tried to curse.

“Yo..u...ba..tr.d..it...all...b.cu.z....of..you..”

“Let me teach you a valuable lesson as a partying gift Baratheon!” the absurd uttered as he slid away from his lunge.

“If you come for a dragon’s head....” the bastard uttered as he kicked Robert in the face, sending him to tumble once more. Robert saw him raise that hammer.

“....you best not miss!”

SMASH!

0000

CERSEI LANNISTER

The whole clearing was stunned in silence as the Prince brought down the hammer on the head of Robert Baratheon, picking up that monstrous weapon with a single hand. It had been a display of strength that had even shocked her along with many in the crowd.

SMASH!

And she averted her eyes as she heard a massive thud and heard many gasps and shout as the Baratheon’s head was caved in. She would like to say that the battle had been legendary, a duel for the centuries, yet the truth was that it was not.

The battle had been rather one-sided, with the Targaryen Prince overpowering the Baratheon lord at every turn.

She slowly slid open her eyes and saw the Rebellion lords spluttering as their champion’s body lay there unmoving as the Prince stood infront of it, his sword in hand as the Kingsgaurd held back the Lord of the Vale and the North.

The air was filled with tension as she felt those piercing amethyst eyes run all over the clearing, the Prince’s black armor now coated in Scarlett, much like his metal mask, as he looked over the clearing at the gathering of lords and ladies of the realm.

She could scarcely believe that this was Daemon Targaryen. The younger Prince had been the more amicable of the two Princes and had been the life of the castle, yet now he was as ruthless as his namesake, with an air of danger that had shaken the whole continent.

Suddenly, she saw him push his blade into the ground as his voice rang out in the clearing.

“THE BATTLE IS OVER! ROBERT BARATHEON IS DEAD!” He announced as he stood infront of the body of the Demon of the Trident.

“NOW KNEEL!”

Those words carried with them enough strength that Cersei felt her body move without her control as she, along with all the lords and ladies present, bowed her head.

“HAIL DAEMON TARGARYEN. THE KING OF ANDALS, ROHNYAR, AND THE FIRST MEN! PROTECTOR OF THE FAITH AND DEFENDER OF THE REALM!”

0000