A Family Torn Apart - Prologue

So I've been thinking of doing a Game of Thrones story for a while now. I've had the character created and everything, I just haven't been sure if I'd write it out well. Before I start this prologue, I'll give some information needed for one of the characters I'll be adding, who will be focused on the most.

Name: Daimon Abaddon

House: Abaddon

Nicknames: The Hellhound, The King of the Free, Sword of the Seven Hells

Army Name: The Forgotten Ones

Family: Dreyar III Abaddon(Father), Leyanna Abaddon(Formerly Martell), Alaerya Abaddon(Little Sister)

House Coat-of-Arms: Three HellHound heads side by side black in color with a light blue background

House Words: 'Fear Hell's Wrath'

House Traits: The anger of one from House abaddon is said to be much more frightening than that of House Baratheon's. Even with their anger, they are known for their loyalty, specifically to House Targaryen. While the men of the house are known to be very calculating and smart in battle tactics, the women are known to be cunning and manipulative. Every Abaddon in history is known to have the families deep black hair and golden colored eye's.

House History: Dreyar Abaddon is said to have traveled to Westeros with Aegon the Conqueror. Due to his help in the war for Westeros, Dreyar was placed as Warden of the North, but the Abaddon soon gave that honor back to House Stark. As loyal as they are to House Targaryen, House Abaddon does not believe in the incestual ways, as of means to keep bloodlines pure. They believe that if one parent were to have the old Valyrian blood of House Abaddon, it would be enough. This has been evident by the fact of House Abaddon's strong genes, seeing as every child born in this family has held black hair and golden colored eye's.

House Abaddon is known to have companions in battle. These companions are shown by their house sigil, the hellhounds. Mythical creatures that are able to breathe fire like Dragons, and superhuman strength and speed(I took away most of the stuff Hellhounds could do. Don't wanna make them too OP, seeing as the real mythical things can kill you if you look them in the eye's.) Hellhounds have been known to be confused for Direwolves, seeing as they grow to the same height as one. The only way to tell the different is by either their eye's, which are known for being a souless white, or by the distinctive sound of their howls, which sound more like screeches unlike normal wolf howls.

After Aegon conquered Westeros, he gave an island to Dreyar Abaddon, which has become the ancenstral home for the House, known as Brimstone. The castle Brimstone is said to have been built atop a large hot springs, just like Winterfell. The Island is located in the North, so it was a perfect place when it would come to the cold temperatures. Below the castle are the crypts of Brimstone, where deceased family members lie, a statue made in their honor. If the person had a Hellhound companion, a statue was made for the hound as well.

Just as the Targaryen's had done, House Abaddon once believed in the gods of Valryia, before converting to that of the Seven. Few in the family are known to follow the Old Gods, and so a godswoods was created on the island and behind the castle of Brimstone.

The family has two ancestral swords, known as Hellfyre and Devil's Eye. The one to wield these weapons is taught in the ways of dual-wielding, as a ways to wield both blades at once. The swords are both made of a old valyrian metal known as Abrium. The metal is known to be as strong as Valryian Steel while being a bright red in terms of color, but is very rare and hard to find. The metal that was found had all been used to make the two ancestral blades. That who wields the blades is known as the Sword of the Seven Hells

The woman of House Abaddon are usually different as well. Not like the typical lady, the women of House Abaddon learn to wield swords or bows, their choice, to ride a horse, and the ways of politics.

Daimon's Lovers: Daenerys Targaryen & Ashara Dayne

Alaerya Pairing: Daario Naharis(At first), Jon Snow

Hopefully that is enough info on House Abaddon and our main character, Daimon Abaddon. originally, I got the name after the Demon of the Abyss Abaddon, and so I just went off of that when it came to naming everything else, such as the swords, the castle name(Hellfire and Brimstone term), and of course the Hellhounds as well. With all of that info put in, let's get started!

NOTE! This is Game of Thrones! Expect 18+ Content such as: Swearing, Adultery, Rape, Slavery, Gore, Blood, etc

NOTE! I own nothing except for House Abaddon and those of the house! Everything else belongs to HBO and G.R.R.M.

NOTE! Bold text means 'speaking in Valyrian'

Enjoy!

Screaming...the smell of blood...laughter...it was all he could hear as he hid away. Even in this large building, there was almost no place to hide. No place to stay for safety. There were so many thoughts and questions running through his head. Where was his father? Where was his mother? Where was his 2 year old sister? Why was this all happening?

As he looked over, he instantly regretted it, having brought himself back into the shadows. His long black hair just as dark as the area he was in. Keeping his eye's closed as to not show his golden colored eye's. The thing he had just seen, he wanted to unseen it. He had just seen his young cousin, Aegon's skull bashed against the wall. His head was as flat as a plate now, no brains left in the skull. He had looked over for just a second to see his young cousin Rhaenys had been stabbed at least half a hundred times. Blood was rushing out of both of them fastly, both already dead.

Suddenly, the sounds of screams returned, and he don't know what told him to look again. For he wish he did not, for he was now witnissing his dead Aunt Elia Martell, being raped, her attacked still holding blood on his hands, as he viciously took her. Through her screams, she saw the young boy sat in the dark, shaking her head no as a means for him to not be the hero. The tears streaming down his face showed his desire to help. But what could he do? A boy of 5 years against the monster of a man mounted on Elia Martell.

The boy could only shake in fear, as soon enough Elia's screams had gone silent, as she had been killed right as the man was done with her. He couldn't hold them in anymore. His small sounds of pain. He tried his damn hardest to keep them under control, but he couldn't. And so, he was roughly grabbed out from the darkness and thrown out in the middle of the room.

He looked in fear of the giant man, who pulled out his giant sword. Just as he was about to swing down and end the poor boys life, a soldier came to the door, hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Ser Gregor." The man spoke, causing the man to turn to him. "Lord Tywin has requested any Abaddon children be brought to the throne room before the new King, King Robert Baratheon." The soldier stated, causing the huge man to huff in annoyance. "We've already taken and brought the younger to his Grace, it'd be best to follow the order." The man turned on his heels, as Ser Gregor lifted the boy by his arm, dragging him through the Red Keep.

Before long, the two were in the throne room, and there he sat, now on his new throne. Robert Baratheon. Just as stories had been told, he was a tall and handsome man, no where near as tall as Ser Gregor. A slim cut beard on his face, with the signature Baratheon blue eye's. As the two entered, Robert Baratheon was in an argument with another man. His hair long, dark brown in color, with grey, near black colored eye's. He was Eddard Stark, the Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell, along with Robert's childhood friend. The two were like brothers, in all but blood. And yet, here they were, arguing.

Robert looked down at the corpses of Aegon and Rhaenys, wrapped in red clothes. Stood near was Tywin Lannister, the Warden of the West and Lord of Casterly Rock. Just by looking in his eye's, he commanded respect from those around him. He was said to be friends with Aerys Targaryen, before the two had a falling out. Ser Gregor was one of his men. He had to have been the one to give the order to kill the children of Rhaegar and Elia.

Being held by the arm by one of the Lannister soldiers was Alaerya Abaddon, the boy's two year old sister. She had the Abaddon black hair and golden eye's, her hair having a few braids done on the sides.

"They were just babes, Robert! Harmless babes, one still at his mother's breast, and you allow this!?" Eddard yelled in anger. The man was known throughout Westeros as the Quiet Wolf yes, but this was one of the few times the honorable Ned Stark would lose his temper. Robert looked down at Ned, before back at the dead Targaryen children as he scoffed.

"I see no babes...just Dragonspawn." He spat out in disgust. Was the mans hatred for Rhaegar so large he would feel fine with killing children. It didn't take much for Eddard to stomp out of the throne room, the Stark men around him following their Lord. Robert's eye's then turned to the two Abaddon children. "And why have followers of the Dragonspawn not been done with?" He asked with a glare aimed at the two children. It was evident now that anyone related to Rhaegar would feel the fury of Robert Baratheon. Hell, the boy was the nephew of Rhaegar.

Before Tywin could answer the new King, the throne room doors opened, more Lannister soldiers coming in. Two of them were dragging the children's father, Lord Dreyar III Abaddon. The man who became Hand of the King after Tywin turned down from the position after his falling out with The Mad King. One other man was carrying a giant red cloth, evident that a body was underneath. Lord Hand Dreyar was thrown to the ground, the cloth thrown right next to him. As it fell, it opened, revealing the dead corpse of Leyanna Martell, young sister of Elia Martell and wife of Lord Hand Dreyar.

As the two children saw their mother, they could barely recognize her. Her body held so many cuts, it was shocking there was still blood within her. Her neck had been snapped so hard, that a bone was sticking out of the side. Her body laid as it was when she saw first born, as her form laid bare nude, with only some of the cloth to cover her.

The young Alaerya got out of the mans grasp, falling next to her mother. She clenched the cloth as tears fell down her cheeks. The young boy looked upon his mothers form, his eye's nearly hollow. It was all lost now. Robert Baratheon looked down at the corpse with a hard gaze, no care for the now dead Dornish woman.

"Lord Dreyar, you have supported the Dragon filth for your entire life, just as your scum of a family has done for the gods know how long. For such actions, I will not allow you another day on this earth. I, Robert Baratheon, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm, hereby do sentence you to death." Robert spoke, as the Lannister soldiers dragged Lord Dreyar off.

"Father, no!" The young boy screamed, as he was held back from going to his father.

"Be strong, Daimon! BE STRONG!" Dreyar Abaddon called out, as he was soon out of sight.

"As for you, two..." Robert stood from the throne.

"Your Grace, if I may suggest." Tywin Lannister spoke up, stepping forward. Robert turned to him with a look that yelled 'get on with it'. "Their family and bloodline has done nothing but follow others, so why stop that now?"

"What are you suggesting, Lion?" Robert asked with impatience.

"Allow them to follow others...across the Narrow Sea." Robert soon understood what Lord Tywin was getting at, as he bellowed out a loud laugh.

"You are one twisted man, you know that!?" Robert yelled with a laugh. Soon enough, his laughter died down, as he stared down at the two frightened children. "Alright then. Daimon and Alaerya Abaddon. You both are hereby exiled from Westeros, never to return again. In fact, I'll even send you both to different buyers. Since you wish to follow the DragonSpawn, you can follow others. Enjoy your lives. Now get them out of my sight." Daimon did not bother to protest. Everything was lost. His mother was dead. His father was to be executed. His cousins were murdered along with his aunt, and even at only the age of seven, he understood it all. They were to be slaves.

Westeros did not allow slavery or the purchasing or selling of slaves, and they were basically doing just that. Being King means doing as you please, supposedly.

It had been five years of being a slave for Daimon. Unfortunately for him, he and his sister were purchased by two different buyers, and so they hadn't seen each other ever since. Daimon was purchased to be a warrior in the fighting pits and held his first battle in the pits when he was only eight. It was in that battle that earned him the scarring at the edge of his left eye. He now held two knife scars on his face. Through all of the wins he received in the fighting pits, he was earning his master coin.

Anytime he had disobeyed, he had been punished. Whether it was lashes across the back or full on beatings, they all depended on what he had done. Once he had attacked a slave master, for what reason, he'd rather not remember, and now he held the worst reminder of it. He was never seen without the bandages around his forearms now.

Daimon had seen so many things as a slave, and now, he was sick of it all. He was set to accompany his master to a meeting with someone who wished to purchase him themselves. Daimon hated the idea of being owned by yet another person, it was bad enough with his current owner.

"You are to be my translator at this meeting. You are to look respectful and as presentable as possible, understand?" Daimon sighed in annoyance, before nodding, only to earn a hard slap. "You answer when your master asks you a question. Now, do you understand?" Daimon looked the man dead in the eye's, now wanting to be seen as weak.

"Yes, master." He spoke in his mother tongue of Valyrian, giving a bow. It was meant to be more of a mocking bow, but the slave master didn't notice. The two continued to walk, Daimon glaring at the back of the slave masters head the entire time. As they walked the streets, he looked around, seeing other slaves receiving the same torment as he. Whippings if misbehaving. It was the life of any slave, a life no one deserved to have. Some of them had families they were torn away from. Forced into a life they did not want. And it was the exact same way for Daimon, except he really had no family left.

Soon enough, the two arrived at the establishment the meeting would go down in. The master talked with the owner, who brought them to their needed room. When the two entered, Daimon did his best to hide his shock. There were two people in the room, one male the other a woman. The male had dark brown hair, just reached to his chin in its length, with dark grey eye's. He also has a common occurence with one Westeros highborn family, shown through his long face.

The woman is the one that shocked him, since he recognized her quite easily. She is a young, beautiful, tall and fair maiden, with haunting violet eyes. Her long dark hair tumbled around her shoulders. It didn't take Daimon too long to recognize who she was. Ashara Dayne, sister to the previous Sword of the Morning, Arthur Dayne. The two had met once, when Ashara had journeyed to King's Landing to visit her brother. It was when she had walked in on her KingsGuard brother training the young Daimon in swordplay, along with Ser Barristand Selmy. She had spoken of how she'd know he would grow to be a handsome young man.

"You stand in the presence of Good Master Graqhiz zo Naznahl. He has learned that you wish to purchase this slave of his." Daimon spoke in the common tongue. The male stepped forward.

"Yes, that would be me. I am Torrhen Stark, youngest son of Lord Rickard Stark. My companion is Lady Ashara Dayne." The now named Torrhen spoke, as Daimon translated every word to Naznahl. "I am willing to give 10,000 Gold Honors in order to purchase this young boy before me." When Daimon translated the amount of money Torrhen was willing to give, the slave masters eye's widened, as it took no time for him to nod his head rapidly, speaking in his Valyrian tongue.

"My master is willing to sell this one to you under the named price. Give forth the mentioned payment and it shall be done." Daimon translated. He could see the sadness in Ashara's eye's whenever he had to refer to himself as a slave. He was sure she could tell he hated it just as much as she did. Torrhen reached behind himself, pulling up a medium sized bag and setting it on the table. Naznahl took the bag and suspected it, and with a satisfied sigh and nod, handed the slave master stick over to Torrhen. Naznahl soon left, laughing at his new amount of coin, as the three stayed in the room.

"I'll give the two of you some time." Torrhen spoke, as he walked out. As soon as he was gone, Ashara stood and hugged the young boy. The feeling caused his cheeks to go slightly red. He was slowly reaching that age of where he would be more interested in woman, and Ashara was definitely a beautiful woman.

"By the gods, it's good to see you. Just what have you been through?" She asked in a soothing voice, as Daimon slowly returned her embrace.

"Enough. I've seen enough to know I'm no small child any longer, Lady Ashara."

"No Lady, between the two of us, it's Ashara." She spoke as she let him go, caressing his face. Even at his age, he was growing taller. Still not at the height of the average man, however. She looked him over, growing saddened at the sight of his scars. "Don't worry, you're no slave anymore, Daimon."

"Even then, I can't return to Westeros. Any sight of me and I'll be executed." Daimon muttered, as she held him close, his face falling against her chest. "Besides, I have a new goal, something much more important than Westeros."

"A new goal?" Ashara questioned in confusion.

"Living five years as a slave has given me much insight on just how life for these people are. No one deserves this life, most of them had families they were torn from, just as I was. I will not rest until every slave is taken off of their chain. That is my goal. I won't stop until it is seen through, all the way till the end."

So how was it? Any critism is welcome, as writing in this style is new to me. The way they speak and such and how dialogue works is still very new to me, so it'll take some time to get used to. Hopefully you enjoyed, as next time, we skip ahead to canon. Until then...

Have a good one!