King's Landing 300 AC.
Tyrion Lannister.
How had it come to this? He couldn't even begin to understand the situation he found himself in. In two years he'd gone from being a man who cared only about the simple pleasures in life to a prisoner. From the Hand of the King to a husband, and now here he was a prisoner once more. This time he had no Bronn to come to his aid either as the former sellsword had made it clear that he'd not stand for him in a Trial by Combat if he needed him to. Not that Tyrion could really blame him in this regard. Considering that if it came down to it then it would be the Mountain that anyone would need to face to set him free.
It was the one thing that had stopped him from calling for it right from the start, the only thing that had stopped him from calling for it. Had Jaime been whole then he knew his brother would have stood for him, but Jaime was no longer whole. Bronn had been perhaps the only other man that would have a chance against the Mountain, but even Tyrion couldn't disagree with the words he'd spoken to him in the cell. That he'd also gained from agreeing not to stand for him, well Tyrion couldn't blame him for that either.
Jaime had told him that his father wished for him to take the black, that all he needed to do was admit his guilt and he'd be allowed to go to the Wall. It was not as tempting an offer as his brother had thought it to be. Tyrion had been to the Wall, he'd seen the conditions there for himself and he knew that should he be forced to take the black, then death wouldn't be long coming to him. No, that was not his path to freedom and perhaps a quick death may be better for him than a slow one. There was one more day to go, one more day and then the worst of it was for him to face. Varys had told him that Shae would testify against him and put the final nails in the coffin that his father had built for him almost seven and twenty years earlier.
"You finally got your wish old man." he said with a bitter laugh, his voice reverberating around the empty cell.
He closed his eyes and soon drifted to sleep, his dreams at least giving him some respite. It had been many years since he'd dreamt about her and saw her face and though he felt angered and shamed, it comforted him too. For the briefest time in his life she'd made him happy and as always it was his father who'd taken that happiness away from him. She was a whore and his father had shown him the truth of things, and Tyrion was certain that he'd taken great joy in doing so. Whether it was the part of the dream that he'd gotten to, the part that he really didn't wish to see once more, or the sound of the door being closed that woke him, he couldn't tell. Only that he woke with a start and knew immediately that he was not alone.
"Who are you?" he asked the shape that he could see in the darkness.
"What matters that?" the shape said back as it sat unseen and unmoving.
"Why are you here?" he asked worriedly as he began to consider that his father had sent someone to make sure he died in his cell.
"Do you fear me, little man?" the shape replied.
"I am to die soon enough, there is little left for me to fear." he said back trying to feign bravery.
"Fear accompanies the possibility of death, calm welcomes its certainty." the shape said and Tyrion watched as it moved into the light.
In the dim light of the room, he saw a young man with deep purple eyes, or at least he believed them to be purple. His hair was a silver of a like he'd never seen before and fell around his shoulders. and he wore a smile that despite the circumstances put Tyrion at ease. He was about to say something but the man, no, the boy spoke once again, his voice almost melodic this time.
"They wish you dead, the people of this city. Despite you saving them they wish you dead. As for your family.." the boy chuckled "They really wish you dead."
"I know what they wish." he said almost angrily.
"And what is it that you wish?" the boy asked.
He looked at him and almost withered under the boy's stare. No one that young had a right to be able to look at someone that way and it reminded him so very much of his father. There was a glint in the boy's deep purple eyes that promised the same cruelty that his father's always did, though unalike with Tywin Lannister, he doubted that this boy was cruel for the sake of it.
"I want to live." he said simply and directly and he was rewarded with a true laugh from the boy.
"As do we all. Yet not all of us are destined to live, not all of us are given that choice. Today I'll give you what was not given to my family, a chance to live. You seek a champion? Someone to stand in your stead and bring down a Mountain, I will stand for you and fight for you, but I'll not kill for you. The Mountain will die regardless of the choice you make Tyrion Lannister, the Many-Faced God has already sat in judgment and decided his fate. Your choice is does he fall before or after you do?" the boy asked.
Tyrion gulped, the Many-Faced God, this boy was no boy, he was a Faceless Man. An assassin from Braavos who'd set his sights on the Mountain and who would see him dead. The choice that Tyrion had to make was a simple one, life or death and he chose life.
"Who are you?" he asked and the boy just smiled.
"A brother, a son, a shadow, and a wraith, I am no one. Who I am matters not to you other than I will bring the Mountain to his knees and see you free." the boy said.
"Can you beat him?" he asked worriedly as the thought crossed his mind that it was one thing to be an assassin and another to face a man one on one in a fight to the death.
"My God is on my side, and my god has slain bigger monsters than he. I will beat him, of that you can be certain."
He was about to ask some more when the boy moved back into the shadows and the door opened, the guard holding a flaming torch in his hand as he looked around the room.
"Who were you talking to Imp?" the guard asked and Tyrion turned from where the boy had been and looked to the guard.
"Myself, or is that a crime now too?" he asked and the guard just growled at him.
It was as witty as he could be, his humor having deserted him when he looked around the room and saw there was no one there but him and the guard. After the guard left, Tyrion rose to his feet and hurried to where the boy had been sitting. He was certain now it had been a dream and he felt the hope that had risen when the boy had spoken now begin to dissipate. It was then he saw it on the floor, the blue paper was folded into what looked like a rose and he knew then that it hadn't been a dream.
The hope rose in him once again, a Faceless Man had come into his cell unseen and left the same way. He'd offered him a chance at not just life but freedom and it was a chance that Tyrion was not going to turn down.
King's Landing 300 AC.
Oberyn Martell.
He was furious, he'd waited too long and someone else now had the chance to take the vengeance that was rightfully his. It simply didn't occur to him that the Imp would have another champion, Oberyn had been sure that there was no man other than he who was willing to face the Mountain. So when he'd been let into the cell and had sat and spoken to Tyrion Lannister, it was with the certainty in mind that once he left he would be his champion. How wrong he was.
Now as he sat in the Throne Room and waited for the trial to begin, his eyes studied each and every face that they could find. He needed to know who it was and to get to the man it was before the trial began. Whatever it would take, however much it would cost, he'd gladly pay it for the man to stand aside. Yet looking out on those already in the room he couldn't see any of them being the one. There was not a man amongst them who looked capable of taking on the Mountain and certainly none who looked willing to do so. As Tywin and Mace took their seats and the last of those who would be allowed in to view the proceedings was let in, he finally saw him.
The man was as tall as he was, perhaps even taller and of a similar build. His hair was long and dark and hung below his shoulders and he had eyes of grey so dark that they almost looked black. Oberyn cursed his late arrival, he cursed his very existence, as whoever this stranger was, he was stealing something that he'd waited almost a lifetime for. Turning his head when Tywin Lannister bid them all sit, he lost the man and began to hope that he had left the room for good. It was to be a vain hope, as no sooner than Tyrion was led to the stand than the man was back in his eye line.
"Call the first witness." Tywin Lannister called out, his voice booming though it barely rose.
"The crown calls Lord Varys." Pycelle said, his own voice very different from his master's.
Oberyn listened as Varys painted a picture of Tyrion that was almost enough to cost the dwarf his head as it was. He then found himself impressed that Tyrion managed to get what to his ears sounded like the first honest thing Varys had ever spoken and yet he knew it mattered little. What did these people care if Tyrion had played a large part in keeping the city safe, that tale had since been superseded by another one that rang more true. A tale of a queen in waiting's family and of an Old Lion who'd been named as the savior of the city. There was no place for dwarves in such a tale, no room for glory for any other Lion but one, not even a very small one.
When Shae was called he could see how Tyrion sagged. It was something that he could relate to though Ellaria would never sell him out as the woman on the stand proceeded to do with Tyrion. Still to have your heart broken by someone you thought you loved was no easy thing to recover from. When that heartbreak turned to anger he couldn't tell but turn it did and when Tyrion moved forward to speak, Oberyn despite the circumstances began to smile.
"Father I wish to confess." Tyrion said breathing deeply "I wish to confess." he added a moment later and Oberyn noticed how the Kingslayer moved a step forward and then looked on almost horror-struck.
"You wish to confess?" Tywin asked moving forward on the throne and almost as soon as he was finished speaking, Tyrion turned to those behind him.
"Guilty. Is that what you wanted to hear?" Tyrion said loud and bitterly.
You admit you poisoned the king?" Tywin asked.
"Nothing of the sort," said Tyrion. "Of Joffrey's death, I am innocent. I am guilty of a more monstrous crime." Oberyn watched as Tyrion took a step towards his father "I was born. I lived. I am guilty of being a dwarf, I confess it. And no matter how many times my good father forgave me, I have persisted in my infamy." Tyrion said angrily.
"This is folly, Tyrion," declared Lord Tywin. "Speak to the matter at hand. You are not on trial for being a dwarf."
"That is where you err, my lord. I have been on trial for being a dwarf my entire life." Tyrion retorted.
"Have you nothing to say in your defense?" Tywin asked.
"Nothing but this: I did not do it. Yet now I wish I had." He turned to face the hall, that sea of pale faces. "I wish I had enough poison for you all. You make me sorry that I am not the monster you would have me be, yet there it is. I am innocent, but I will get no justice here. You leave me no choice but to appeal to the gods. I demand trial by battle."
"Have you taken leave of your wits?" his father asked.
"No, I've found them. I demand trial by battle!" Tyrion said to loud gasps and Oberyn went to move to offer his sword before the stranger could offer his own.
"I name the Mountain as the champion for the crown, do you have a champion?" Tywin asked his own anger clear in both his voice and expression.
"I shall stand for Lord Tyrion." the dark-haired man said as he moved forward.
Oberyn saw Tyrion's smile and the look his father gave him when he did so. Then he like everyone else ignored the two Lannisters and concentrated on the man who now stood in front of them with his hands crossed over in front of him. He stood almost casually and yet there was an alertness about him that Oberyn had seen more than once. This man was a warrior and while Cersei smiled and only saw his height and size, others looking on paid him more attention and gave him more respect than that.
"And you are?" Tywin Lannister asked.
"My name is Daemon Rogare." the man said to some gasps and Oberyn found himself looking at him more closely.
The Rogares had once been one of the wealthiest families in Lys until their bank had failed and since then he'd not heard much about them. Could this be a son? A nephew or cousin? Or was that even his real name, regardless it was a good and true name and one he and by the looks of things no one else here had ever heard before.
"Do you wish this man to fight for you?" Tywin asked ignoring Daemon and looking to Tyrion.
"I do." Tyrion said and as he did Tywin nodded.
"Very well. On the morrow, the matter will be decided in front of the gods. This is a fight to the death, Lord Rogare and there will be no parley offered." Tywin said in his best intimidatory way.
"On either side, my lord." Daemon said and Oberyn smirked upon seeing the grimace on the old lion's face.
With that, it was done and as Tyrion spoke to Daemon and was then removed from the Throne Room, Oberyn looked to see that all eyes were on the dark-haired man who had surprisingly not moved from the room. He moved from his seat to speak to the man only to find that Jaime Lannister had beat him to it and so with a nod to Nym to keep her eyes on the man, he walked from the room.
Later that night after he and Ellaria had taken their entertainment at the brothel, they were joined by Nym and Daemon Rogare. Oberyn looked at him with perhaps the same thoughts that Ellaria was clearly having. The man was no more than a boy and he was incredibly handsome. His eyes were even darker than they had looked earlier and his hair was almost the color of a raven's feathers. He seemed at ease also, as if he hadn't got a care in the world and didn't look like a man who was to face a monster the next day.
"Some wine?" he asked to a shake of the Daemon's head.
"I must refuse, my prince. Though should the offer still be open, then I'll share a glass with you and your paramour at sunset tomorrow." Daemon said with a small nod.
"You are either confident or a fool." he said as he took a sip from his own glass of wine.
"Or a confident fool, my prince." Daemon said with a chuckle.
"Why stand for such a man?" Ellaria asked.
"We all have our own reasons for doing the things we do, my lady." Daemon replied cryptically.
"And you have no wish to share yours?" he asked annoyedly.
"My reasons are the same as yours, my prince." Daemon said and Oberyn moved from his seat, his anger clear, and yet despite that Daemon never moved an inch.
"How dare you say such a thing. My reasons are my blood, my family, and the monster who stole them from me." he said as he glared down at the still unmoving Daemon.
"For Elia, Rhaenys and Aegon. I know your reasons my prince and mine are the very same. I stand not for a dwarf or for a Lannister. Tyrion is a means to an end and nothing more. I care not whether he lives or dies, but the Mountain will fall and in that, we share the same goal." Daemon said and Oberyn looked at him more closely.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"I am no one." Daemon replied.
King's Landing 300 AC.
Jaime Lannister.
He hadn't needed to speak to his father to know he was furious, as was he, though for now it was worry that was foremost in his mind. Cersei had nodded to him as soon as the man had stood up for Tyrion and even had she not, Jaime would still have gone to him. Whoever this man was his brother's life was now in his hands and he wanted to know that there was a chance that he could actually beat the Mountain. His sister on the other hand no doubt wished to offer the man a chance to back out and would try to bribe or cajole him to do so.
For Jaime, this put them at odds as did Cersei naming the Mountain as the crown's champion. Had he known it would have come to this then he'd have done all he could to ensure Clegane was not who was picked. He'd been blindsided though, so certain was he that Tyrion would take the offer of life at the Wall that he never even considered he'd seek a Trial by Combat. Had he been whole, had he still had his hand, then it would have been the first thing he'd have suggested. Jaime standing as his brother's champion would have forced his father and sister's hands, but he was no longer whole.
So it was left to a stranger to do what a brother should and Jaime had instead moved to the man and bid him follow. As they had walked he'd talked and asked him what a Rogare was doing in King's Landing and what experience he had with a blade. Jaime had looked at the sword the man carried and though its hilt and pommel were wrapped in a plain leather binding, the scabbard and the glimpse of the steel made him more confident in the man's prowess. He'd stayed outside when the man had gone in to speak to Cersei and had been surprised by how quickly he'd come back out, though not by how angry Cersei had been about him when he'd left.
"I should have his head." Cersei said angrily.
"Why?"
"To deny me, to deny his queen." she said as she filled her glass.
"I don't think the Rogares consider anyone their kings or queens. Not even to the Targaryen's did the kneel." he said and Cersei huffed.
"Who is he? And how does he know the Imp?" his sister said and Jaime tuned her out for the rest of the conversation.
It had been the same old moans and he was in no humor for them. Cersei airing grievances and slights that were more imagined than real and all laid at Tyrion's feet. That she spoke with glee about their brother's death made him hate her a little and so the first chance he got to leave, he took it. Then it was grievances of a different sort he was forced to listen to and questions that there were no answers to, as his father and Varys and other members of the Small Council spoke about Daemon Rogare.
"I thought the Rogares had all died out." his uncle Kevan said.
"Some remain, though they are a shadow of what they once were, my lord." Varys said as his father barely listened to either of them.
"How does one of them know Tyrion?" his father asked no one in particular "And how was Tyrion able to get word to him to stand for him?"
"I don't believe he did, my lord. There have been no words sent from Lord Tyrion to anyone and the only visitor he had was Bronn who we've had under close watch." Varys said which was news to Jaime.
"So you're saying this man just appears and decides to risk his neck in a trial by combat for no reason?" Kevan asked.
"I'm saying I can find no reason, my lord." Varys replied with a loud sigh.
Jaime had found he cared not for the reason why a Rogare was in King's Landing or even why one would stand as Tyrion's champion. Instead, as he went to his bed that night the only thing on his mind was whether or not Daemon Rogare would be a match for the Mountain. He woke early the next morning and broke his fast with his family, all of them and while it was pleasant to eat with Tommen, it was not so much to eat with his father and sister. Cersei wore a look that actually made him disgusted to look at her and their father seemed almost pleased, something that Jaime truly hated him for.
There was a strange moment when a servant brought his father a note that seemed to annoy him but other than that the meal passed without incident. From then until they made their way to the Dragonpit for the Trial by Combat the day almost seemed boring. Neither her nor Cersei were made privy to what was in the note his father had received and he was not allowed to go and visit his brother, much to his annoyance. Instead, it was almost just killing time until they were finally sitting in a very full Dragonpit beside the Tyrells and the Red Viper, who looked just as annoyed as he was.
Daemon Rogare walked into the Dragonpit and he was wearing very little armor, just leathers, and had his hair tied up behind his head. On the front of his leather gambeson, Jaime noticed the line of what looked to be thin knives, but as he looked closer were clearly crossbow bolts of some sort and his sword was strapped on his back. Its leather-covered hilt could be clearly seen over his shoulder. Jaime looked curiously at the young man and saw him speak to what seemed to be some squires who held spears and he smiled a little. At least the boy was no fool as a spear would give him reach and keep him away from the Mountain's own.
"He's fighting like that?" Cersei asked almost joyfully, something that only grew as the Mountain walked out wearing his heavy plate.
"It would seem so." his father said and Jaime offered up a smile when he saw his brother being led into the arena.
King's Landing 300 AC.
No One.
The city stank and yet it was not the smell of foul waste that made it so, more the people that lived here, or to be more precise those who ruled. All over Essos, he had seen men and women like these who only cared for themselves. As he'd hid among the city and explored it he'd seen the poor and the destitute and also those who spent coin and wasted food as if there was no such thing as hungry children mere yards away. He knew it was the way of the world, those at the top had it easy, those born lower very much did not, yet it irked him and fuelled his rage.
Not that he needed his rage to be fuelled given what he had come here to do. Just knowing who was walking around this city breathing air and living while they did not was enough to do that. He could have taken them at any time he wished, could simply have snuck into their poorly defended rooms and slit their throats or poisoned their meals. To say he'd not thought of doing such would have been a lie, but in the end it seemed the Many-Faced God had a different plan in mind. So he'd waited and listened and the more he'd heard, the more his plan had begun to take shape.
Killing the boy king was only step one of that plan and after hearing what he had done to Sansa Stark and how he had treated her, not to mention that it was he who had ordered Eddard's death, it was a death owed to both him and the Many-Faced God. It was a death that the gods of justice and vengeance had demanded of him and so it was one he'd given them. He'd not expected the dwarf to be blamed for what he had done nor had he expected Sansa Stark to disappear. It was only after she had that he realized that he had not been the only one who wished Joffrey Hill dead.
Sitting in the tavern after Tyrion's arrest he had heard what would likely happen to the man. The drunk man speaking of Trial by Combat and saying who it was that the queen would name to represent her quickly proving that his god knew far better than he. Sneaking into the cell to speak to the man had been no great chore and convincing him that he wished for him as his champion was even less of a one. Now seeing the worry on Tyrion's face brought a smile to his own and for once he felt the urge to offer some comfort to someone who was not of his blood or on his side.
"Today is not the day I die, which means it's not the day you die either." he said as Tyrion swallowed down his wine and nodded back at him.
"Where is your armor?" Tyrion asked and his smile only grew bigger as he answered him.
"I move quicker when I'm lightly armored." he said as Tyrion looked at him worriedly.
"Have you…do you have much experience fighting?" Tyrion asked and Daemon laughed.
"I've spent my entire life fighting in one way or another. This though won't be a fight." he said as Tyrion looked at him confusedly "This will be an execution." he added as he was handed his spear by the young man he'd paid to be his squire.
Turning to look at those sitting up high, his eyes were drawn to the Lannisters. The proud lions who had taken members of both sides of his family from him. He gripped the spear a little more tightly and resisted the urge to take it and throw it at Tywin Lannister who sat proudest of all. It wouldn't require much effort and the man would be dead before anyone could react, but he wanted more justice than simply seeing him dead. Daemon intended for the truth to be known before the day was done. Sitting a little to Tywin's left was his daughter Cersei, the sister of the man he was standing for today and someone who wanted almost exactly what he did, to see a dead Lannister. She had tried to buy him yesterday, first with gold and then with the offer of a night in her bed. Daemon enjoying the anger he saw in her face when he refused either.
"Coin, lands, a knighthood, a lordship or me, you can have whichever you want." she said her eyes fluttering in what he assumed she thought as seductive.
"I've already given my word to your brother, your grace." he said and it took all he had not to spit out the title.
"Words can be broken." she said with a sly smile.
"Not mine." he said and the truth of her was revealed when she glared at him and told him to leave.
He wondered if it had been her who'd sent the guards after him, her or her father, he knew it had been one of them and the Many-Faced God had been given some gifts because of it. The Kingslayer he knew cared too much for his brother's head to wish him harm. He'd tried to judge him, to see if he could ascertain whether or not Daemon was up to the task and had perhaps been the only one of his family to judge him truly. Even now as he looked up at him, Daemon could see the worry and the hope in his eyes and though he cared not for giving the man a moment's comfort, it suited his plans for it to be done.
Just a few seats away he could see Oberyn was watching him intently, the Dornish Prince too had offered riches for him to stand down. At least his offer came from a place that Daemon could respect and were he any other man then he'd have given him his wish. Unfortunately for Oberyn, he was who he was and it was his own vengeance and justice that he sought. Besides, before the day was done Oberyn would get what he'd always hoped for. Daemon listened as the old Maester spoke the words and the crowd's impatience began to rise. He looked down at the bolts and smiled, they were his own design and key to what was to come, as were his spears. On his back Blackfyre rested for the coup de grace and it would be that which would remove the Mountain's head from his body.
"Your grace, my lords and ladies, may the gods decide the innocence or guilt of this man." Pycelle said and Daemon took a last look around the Dragonpit as he readied for the fight to begin.
This place had been so important to his family once, blood had been spilled here of dragons that were men and women and those which were very much not. Today blood would be spilled of a different kind, the blood of a monster who had taken far too much from his House. A monster that had killed a woman that may well have raised him as her own and a brother that he had never been given the chance to know. He would be the first of them, but not the last and Jonin time all of those who had taken from the House of the Dragon would feel a dragon's fury. Just as those who had taken from the House of the Wolf would soon feel a wolf's as well.
He looked to the Tyrells, the family who so desperately wished to get their blood on the throne that they would ally with the vilest family in all the realm. A part of him knew that he could go to them, tell them the truth, and bring them to his side. It would cost him nothing more than to match the offer they already had and it was a tempting idea. Margaery was a beautiful woman and laying with her would be no hardship. Daemon didn't even truly blame them for their grasping or their alliance, instead, it was their reticence years earlier that had stayed his hand. Had they marched then he'd have known a different life and grown up with a father, perhaps. Or perhaps this was the only life that was his to live he thought with a sigh, and then he turned to face the Mountain and began to sing.
And who are you the proud lord said,
That I must bow so low?
Only a cat of a different coat,
That's all the truth I know.
In a coat of gold or a coat of red,
A Lions still has claws.
And mine are long and sharp, my lord,
As long and sharp as yours.
And so he spoke, and so he spoke,
That Lord of Castamere.
But now the rains weep o'er his hall,
With no one there to hear.
Yes, the rains weep o'er his hall,
And not a soul to hear.
The Mountain came at him as he sang the song and though he had one eye on him, his other was on the angered looks and the amused ones that came from the pavilion. Tywin Lannister looked almost apoplectic and was it not for how Cersei glowered at him then he'd have never seen such anger over such a trifling thing. The Tyrell's looked confused, or to be more precise Mace did, while Oberyn and his paramour both wore smiles. As for the rest of the crowd, they had heard him sing but had perhaps not taken it as the insult he had meant it to be. His next words would make his intent much more clear.
"Elia Martell, you raped her, you murdered her son, admit your guilt and your death will be quick." Daemon said as he moved out of the way of the rather slow attempt to hit him with the greatsword.
"Die." the Mountain almost grunted at him and as responses go it was not the wittiest that he'd ever heard.
"Elia Martell, you raped her, you murdered her son." he shouted as he spun and slashed his spear down the breastplate, the line it left having no effect on the monster beneath the heavy plate.
In the stands, he could see that Oberyn had moved forward in his seat and that he wasn't alone in doing so. Tywin had tried to remain passive to those who looked his way but his agitation was much clearer now and so Daemon felt it time to add some more words to the mix.
"Admit your guilt, name the man who gave you the order and I'll lessen your suffering." he said as he crashed the blade of the spear against the Mountain's helm.
"Die you fool." the Mountain shouted back as he swung his greatsword at him once more.
"Elia Martell, you raped her, you murdered her son." he shouted as he caught the Mountain on the helm and across the arm once more "Elia Martell, you raped her, you murdered her son" he said loudly as he took out one of the bolts and spun left and then right, both times bringing his spear's blade crashing down against the Mountain's helm.
The spins brought him in close and he could hear the crowd almost gasp as the Mountain reached out to grab him and then the cheers as he both rolled out of the way and stuck the bolt in through the visor of the Mountain's helm.
"AAAARGGHHHHH" the Mountain shouted out, his pain clear and Daemon smiled as he then moved further away.
The bolts were barbed at the end and would hurt more coming out than they would going in and as he paced out of the reach of the Mountain he waited on the fool to try and remove it. He didn't have to wait long and the agonized scream from the man was like music to his ears. Daemon heard the crowd gasp as the full extent of what he'd done was now shown to them. He'd driven the bolt into the Mountain's eye and in pulling it out the man had made a huge mistake. The eye would have been useless regardless, but at least it would still have been in the man's socket.
Taking advantage of the pain and the blind spot he'd now created, Daemon took out another bolt and drove his spear into the ground. Moving quickly he drew out his sword and heard the hush of the crowd as the Valyrian Steel was revealed. While the Mountain tried to recover, Daemon caught him twice hard where the gauntlet met the vambrace. As thick as the plate was it was no match for the Valyrian Steel and when he saw the gap he then drove the bolt into the Mountains arm before he ducked the swing of the sword as he moved back away. Putting the sword back in its scabbard, he moved over to the spear and took it from the ground, and began to move towards the Mountain once more.
"Elia Martell, you raped her, you murdered her son. Admit your guilt and I'll end your suffering." he said loudly to no reply.
He smiled when he saw the Mountain try to move his arm and how difficult it was for him to do so. Daemon and the crowd looking on as it was clear that he'd learned his lesson this time and hadn't tried to pull the bolt out. However, this created its own problems and it was something that he intended to take advantage of, as he brought the spear's blade down hard on the bolt's top and drove it deeper into the bone. Again the Mountain screamed out in pain and again Daemon found the sound to be comforting. After what this monster had done to Elia and to Aegon, he deserved to suffer an eternity of pain and he would suffer far more today before he breathed his last.
The kick caught him by surprise and winded him, knocking Daemon to the ground and he was lucky to dodge the greatsword as it came crashing down where his head had just been. Rolling across the ground, he then took some time to rise to his feet and watched as the Mountain broke the spear's shaft as he did so. Moving quickly to where Tyrion and the boy he'd paid to squire for him stood, he nodded and was thrown another spear and it was not a moment too soon. Daemon catching the greatsword and deflecting it away before he spun and caught the Mountain across the helm once more. He saw the step backward the Mountain took when he took out another bolt and then he spoke once more.
"Name the man who gave you the order and I'll take all your pain away." he said to a loud grunt and as the Mountain moved forward, Daemon threw the spear.
Not only was the Mountain far too slow but he was far too dumb and Daemon began to wonder if it was simply his size, strength, and reputation that had kept him alive this long. Not judging the spear's throw, the Mountain had raised his greatsword to deflect it, only for it to take his legs out from under him and bring him crashing to the ground. Daemon drew Blackfyre once more and moved quickly towards the prone man, with the sword and the bolt in his hand he prepared to end the threat in front of him. Again he brought the sword down on the space between the gauntlet and the vambrace and again he made a gap for the bolt to be driven through. This time in the sword arm and after he'd done so and as the Mountain once again tried to rise to his feet, the direness of his situation was revealed.
"Elia Martell, you raped her, you murdered her son, admit your guilt. Name the man who gave you the order and your suffering will be ended." Daemon said as the Mountain tried in vain to lift his greatsword "Admit what you did and I'll end your suffering." Daemon said as he brought Blackfyre's blade down hard on the bolt.
"Help me." the Mountain called out as Daemon took out another bolt.
"Only the gods can help you now." Daemon said and as the Mountain tried to move away he drove the bolt in through the visor and felt it as it settled deep into his good eye "Admit your guilt?" Daemon shouted and in the seats in the pavilion two very different sets of reactions were taking place.
Oberyn was almost hanging off his chair, his eyes were on both Daemon and the Mountain and on Tywin Lannister who for the first time looked truly panicked. Fearing what the caged lion may do, Daemon reached out and pulled the bolt and the eye along with it.
"AAAAghhhhhhhhh." The Mountain cried out, his pain even worse now as Daemon had pulled the bolt out far more slowly than he had the other one.
"Elia Martell, you raped her, you murdered her son. Admit your guilt." Daemon shouted as he again drove Blackfyre's blade against the bolt in the Mountain's arm.
"I…I raped her, I murdered her son." The Mountain shouted "Please make it stop, make it stop…."
"Who gave the order?" Daemon shouted as he raised Blackfyre once more.
"My lord, my liege lord. TYWINNNNN save meeeee." the Mountain cried.
"My name is Daemon Targaryen, you killed my brother, prepare to die" Daemon said his voice now barely a whisper and he knew that it wouldn't carry in the wind.
He brought Blackfyre down in an arc and the Valyrian Steel was good and true, the Mountain's head quickly falling from his shoulders. Looking to the crowd and to the pavilion he could see his words had not been heard while the Mountain's confession was. The look on Oberyn's face was one of relief and joy and yet his tears flowed freely. As for Tywin, if looks could kill then Daemon would be dead. Looks though couldn't kill, not even the looks of a Faceless Man and though the Many-Faced God had gotten his gift this day, Daemon still had many more names on his list to cross off before his work was done.
A/N: An idea that I couldn't shake, there is not set update schedule so we'll see how it goes.
