A/N: This idea came to me while I was in bed, trying to sleep. I own nothing, ASOIAF belongs to GRRM.

Tyrion

Tyrion could not believe his eyes. The Viper was running rings around the Mountain, dodging this way and that. Every time Gregor brought his Greatsword to bear, Oberyn was already behind him, jabbing at his joints, his neck, the back of his legs... Slowly but surely, the Mountain began to tire.

"You raped her! You Murdered her! You killed her-"

Quicker than Tyrion would have thought possible, The mountain swung his sword around, catching Oberyn in the side. Blood began to flow, and the Viper's shout was cut off with an undignified yelp. The strike was off balance, and did not cleave Oberyn in two, as Gregor had no doubt intended. It had, however, broken most of his ribs, Tyrion could see that plainly. The Mountain tore his helm off, revealing a savage, brutal face, slick with sweat. He roared, a cry filled with rage and frustration.

"First, I killed her screaming whelp. Then I raped her. Then I smashed her fucking head in. Like this."

Ser Gregor never got the chance. As he lumbered towards his opponent, Oberyn threw his spear, the point reflecting sunlight as it made its journey, heading straight for The Mountain's unarmoured head. It buried itself in his eye, The Mountain screaming with fear and rage and pain and Gods know what else, before he collapsed to the dirt.

A hush fell over the court, the only sound being Oberyn's moans of pain. Finally, Tywin broke the silence. "Get him a Maester," he commanded, in an decidedly neutral tone. Odd. Tyrion had hoped that Tywin would be more angry. Cersei was angry, or she would be once she regained her senses. All the more reason to leave the city as soon as he could, Tyrion thought.

Tyrion opened the door to the Maester's chambers. Thankfully, Pycelle was nowhere to be seen; it seems that The Viper had thought to bring his own. Oberyn was in sorry shape; most of his ribs were broken, and he had a massive bruise that covered his left side. The cut was not as deep as one might think, but it was still very life threatening, to say nothing of infection. How Oberyn could speak, let alone jest, was beyond Tyrion.

"It seems I have to pass on that offer for a feast, My Lord. As it stands, I cannot hold much more than wine down."

"We need to leave, as soon as you are able. Cersei wants us dead."

"Cersei doesn't frighten me."

"Clearly, you do not know her as I do. With my bodyguard gone and you out of commission, all that stands between our deaths is me, and I am not what one would call a warrior."

He laughed at that, long and hard, although it clearly pained him to do so. Before long, he was out of breath, and it seems his wound had reopened, if the crimson stain on his bandages was any indication.

"You fought in the Battle of The Blackwater, did you not?"

"Aye, and it was a sight to see, me looking like a child in his father's armour, leading the vanguard of men twice my size."

"I'll take your word for it, Imp."

Tyrion bristled at that; and wondered why. He had been called much worse, one would think he would be used to it by now. He pushed the anger down, it would not help matters.

"Regardless, we are leaving King's Landing as soon as you are able to be moved. I imagine travelling by ship would be more comfortable for you, with your injuries."

"Need I remind you that I'm not finished here? I came here to avenge my sister-"

"And you did. The Mountain is slain, by your hand."

"The Mountain was just following orders! You and I both know who ordered Elia killed!"

"Yes, and I imagine confronting my father alone, unarmed, with a limp and 4 broken ribs will go poorly for you. If you and I stay here, we will die. If we leave, we can plot our revenge."

"What do you mean we?"

"You thought you were the only one who hates Tywin Lannister?"

A long silence followed, broken by Oberyn.

"You would plot against your own father?"

"He has it coming. Remind me to tell you of Tysha."

"Who?"

"My first wife." A maid as fair as summer, with sunlight in her hair.

Tyrion had had enough of Oberyn for the day. "I will ask the maester when you are fit to travel by boat. When you are able, you and I will board a small schooner in the docks. Tell no one of this."

"My Lord." He said it with sarcasm practically dripping from the words; The Viper was making it clear that he would not take orders from a Lannister, much less him.

Tyrion sighed and left, the door shutting behind him. He needed a drink.

A/N: I really had to hold back from putting an all Oberyn now pun in there.