"I never meant to be a whore, m'lords," Shae told the court. "I was to be married. A squire, he was, and a good brave boy, gentle born. But the Imp saw me at the Green Fork and put the boy I meant to marry in the front rank of the van, and after he was killed 'e sent his fox friends to bring me to his tent. He said if I didn't pleasure him, he'd give me to them, so I did. Then he brought me to the city, so I'd be close when he wanted me. He made me do such shameful things… with my mouth and… other parts. All my parts. He used my every way there was, and… he used to make me tell him how big he was. My giant, I had to call him, my giant of Lannister." In the audience, Joffrey laughed at this. "And he told me he was goin' to kill his sister. He meant to be king. He was goin' to kill Joffrey next, and then his own lord father, so he could be Hand for Prince Tommen. But after a year or so, before Tommen got too old, he would have killed him too, so as to take the crown for his own head."
She was sobbing the whole time. Tyrion was stung. Why was she lying like this? But he knew why. It was the same reason she had sex with him. Someone had paid her. Bane had warned him not to get attached to her. He should have listened.
Tyrion pushed forward. "My lords!" he shouted. "Get this lying whore out of my sight, and I will give you your confession."
The gold cloaks took Shae away. Tyrion stared up at his father's hard green eyes with their flecks of cold bright gold. "Guilty," he said, "so guilty. Is that what you wanted to hear?"
Prince Oberyn looked mildly disappointed. "You admit you poisoned the queen?"
"Nothing of the sort," said Tyrion. "Of Cersei's death I am innocent. I am guilty of a more monstrous crime." He took a step toward his father. "I am guilty of being a dwarf."
"This is folly, Tyrion," declared Lord Tywin. "Speak to the matter at hand. You are not on trial for being a dwarf."
"No, but maybe he should be," said Joffrey.
"That's where you're wrong. I have been on trial for being a dwarf my entire life."
"Have you nothing to say in your defense?" said Tywin.
"'Course he doesn't," said Joffrey. "I don't know why we haven't already executed him."
"Nothing but this," said Tyrion. "I did not do it. Yet now I wish I had. I wish I had enough poison for the whole lot of you! I wish I was the monster you all think I am. You leave me no choice but to appeal to the gods. I demand trial by battle!"
Joffrey could not have been more pleased. "Fine with me. Ser Gregor Clegane returned to the city the night before last. He shall be my champion."
Lord Tywin was too mad to speak. He just sat there, face purple, looking not unlike his daughter Cersei when she choked to death. It was Mace Tyrell who turned to Tyrion and asked, "Do you have a champion of your own?"
"He does, my lord." Prince Oberyn rose to his feet. "The dwarf has quite convinced me."
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Next day, everybody gathered in the courtyard to see the duel between Oberyn Martell and Gregor Clegane.
The two men advanced toward each other. When they were ten yards apart, Oberyn stopped and called out, "Have they told you who I am?"
"Some dead man," Gregor grunted.
"I am Oberyn Martell, a prince of Dorne. Princess Elia was my sister."
"Who?" asked Gregor Clegane.
"Elia Martell, princess of Dorne. You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children."
And so, they started to fight each other. They went on for a long time. Finally, Oberyn found a gap in the Mountain's armor and stabbed him in the armpit. Blood trickled from under Gregor's arm but he didn't fall yet.
"I want to hear you say her name!" Oberyn shouted. "You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children. Elia of Dorne! Say it!"
They circled around each other for a few more minutes. Then Oberyn got behind his foe and stabbed him again, in the back of the knee this time. The Mountain fell on his face and dropped his sword. Oberyn jumped on top of him. "Say her name! Elia of Dorne!"
Clegane's hand shot up and grabbed the Dornishman behind the knee. In less time than you could think, Oberyn Martell was on the ground, with Gregor's massive hands wrapped around his throat. Their weapons were forgotten now.
"Elia of Dorne," the Mountain boomed. "I killed her screaming whelp. Then I raped her. Then I smashed her fuckin' head in with my bare hands, just like I'm doin' to you now!" He squeezed Oberyn's head, crushing it.
After Oberyn Martell was dead, the Mountain got to his feet. But a second later, he fell back down again. The Red Viper's poison had done its work, but too late. Oberyn had died first, so technically Gregor had won. Tyrion Lannister had gambled and lost.
