Chapter 20 - The Execution of The Mountain
One week after the escape from the storm
"You know, I still can't get over how easy it is for you to travel," Oberyn murmured next to Hanko in the stands.
"It still took a couple jumps and a few hours of rest to get back to Dorne, but yes, we are here," Hanko stated. "I still don't think it was a good idea to draw attention to us by you sitting here." Hanko was of course talking about the fact that Oberyn had on either side of him the currently disguised Elia and himself.
Oberyn shrugged, "If anyone asks, I'll just mention you were my latest flings. Hell, if you were without disguise it would probably be more believable as your regular features look more…feminine."
Hanko gave Oberyn a blank expression. "I don't know if I should be flattered or offended."
Oberyn gave him a cheeky grin. "You do with that what you will." He followed that with a wink and got up from his seat in the stands to make his way to the gesturing Doran at the main judge's seats.
By this time, the disguised Elia was already at his side. "I still don't like how we have to go through this farce of a trial."
"If we just executed him without reason, it would set a bad precedent." Hanko surmised. "It's better to get rid of him by utilizing the laws of the land. That way, no one can say we just executed without reason. If we did so, people would just say your brothers are taking up the Targaryen madness somehow."
Elia frowned at that incorrect correlation but nodded all the same. Though she wanted Ser Gregor to bleed out slowly and painfully for the death of her son and near rape of herself, she understood what must be done to keep the peace overall. Besides, if Hanko said it was the way it had to be, it was the way it had to be. Anyone dumb enough to try to fight against Hanko would lose no matter what. Just the fact that his attitude tended to lean towards doing the morally right thing luckily worked out for the better of everyone. Her thoughts turned back to their discussion yesterday …
Flashback: the day before
The Martells had just been informed of Hanko's plan for the events of Ser Gregor's Execution. By the end of the telling, Doran and Oberyn's tanned skin were practically pale and Elia was shaking before passing out.
Hanko caught Elia before she hit the ground. This action seemed to break the stillness in the room as Oberyn coughed, his usual smirk no longer gracing his face.
"Have I ever mentioned how we will be working with you to our utmost and appreciate all you are doing?"
Hanko nodded with chagrin. "Besides the fact that the plan might be a little ostentatious, I need to make the example of Ser Gregor to everyone. I'm hoping by doing so, we can push the people that would be neutral, or have bad intentions, towards the better/common goal of working together for what is to come."
Doran paused, his expression still pale, but blank before adding to the conversation. "Though we appreciate what you are willing to do for the masses in Westeros…I'm not sure if going to that extent will be worth it…especially to Elia."
"I will apologize to Elia when she wakes back up, and after all of it…but it must be done."
Flashback End
Hanko looked to the three chairs where the judge's sat. He knew of Doran and Oberyn being judges in their seats, but the last judge was probably what surprised everyone the most.
Sandor Clegane.
The Mountain's brother, sitting with the rest of the judges, had most of the audience confused around them, but otherwise they only voiced their confusion in low murmurs. The murmurs only started to die down when Doran stood up and spoke aloud for the whole place to hear.
"Bring forward the accused."
As the venue was an open area outside and not indoors, they did not hear anything besides a low thump as Ser Gregor on the ground from a cart that brought him to the arena. With the clanking of chains and surrounded on both sides by five guards each, he was escorted towards the lone dias in the middle of the arena. The guards stayed on either side of him as he stopped directly behind the dias. The pause of short before Doran began.
"Ser Gregor Clegane. You are accused of the murder of one Aegon Targaryen, the son of Elia Martell and Rhaegar Targaryen, cousin of the rest of House Martell…"
The list of charges continued. As the Mountain had done a many-a-horrendous act, it was not hard to get people to come forward with legitimate charges once it was known the Mountain was in custody. Many of the family members of those he wronged were in the stands now, looking on at the proceedings. Some of them even traveled great lengths to make it to the publicized trial.
After a good five minutes of listing charges, Doran paused before speaking once more.
"Ser Gregor Clegane, have you anything in your defense?"
The Mountain hocked a loogie and spit it out before saying anything. "You cannot put me on trail for following the instructions of my Liege Lord." He looked to his own brother "To our liege lord."
"For the audience, who is your Liege Lord that gave you the instructions to commit these heinous crimes?" Oberyn snuck in a question.
Ser Gregor only gave Doran a glare that would have killed him many times over if a look could indeed kill someone.
Doran continued. "First of all, the esteemed Tywin Lannister is not on trial today, you are Ser Gregor. Secondly, even if the man gave you instructions of 'burn that village' or 'quell the uprising in that area', you were the one who decided to expand on those orders by committing wholesale slaughter or vile acts instead of keeping the loss of life to a minimum and protecting the innocent as much as a valid knight of the realm would. What say you to that?"
"I say no matter what I say or do, you will have some shits walk up, spout anything bad you could think of, and decide with an all-skewed vote of everyone that hates me as a judge, that I am guilty." Ser Gregor chuckled darkly. "Why not get this farce over with and get to the actual trial?"
"What are you talking about Ser Gregor?"
"I demand a Trial-by-Combat."
There was a murmur through the crowd as the demand was spoken. There were only a few shouts as only some spectators were not thrilled with the possibility of Ser Gregor getting away with it all through Trial-by-Combat. The awkward atmosphere was only there for a short while before Doran continued.
"We will acquiesce to your request, however, the Trial-by-Combat will happen now." Doran stated, followed by snapping his fingers and motioning to the servants at the side of the open area.
Ser Gregor grunted in acceptance as he saw the servants come in with his armor and weapons. As they moved to help the giant man put his armor on, no one seemed to notice that Hanko had switched with a clone of himself on the stands, nor did they notice the sky start to darken. Doran and the other judges moved from their chairs, and the servants took them further back towards the edge of the open-air arena before they all sat down again. Most of the other audience didn't have to move as they were already in the circular stands. Finally, when it seemed like Ser Gregor had all of his armor on and was ready to go, it was noted that something was off.
There was no one on the field to face him.
Ser Gregor looked to the crowd as he bellowed. "What? You want to accuse me of crimes, yet no one wants to be the one fighting for the Seven?! Who is brave enough to prove my guilt?!" He turned to his own brother looking at him "Not even you brother? I figured you of all people would want the honor."
Sandor himself had a barely constrained clenched and shaking fist as he indeed wanted to jump in and remove the rabid dog from the Seven Kingdoms. The only thing stopping him was Doran's guarantee that his brother would be defeated but alive enough to do whatever he wanted afterwards before he had all the rights to be the executioner himself.
Only seconds later, a chill settled on the arena. It wasn't the chill of possibly facing the Mountain, no this was a chill of the weather around them. The drastic drop in temperature prompted people to look up. They then realized they were underneath heavy cloud cover and in the sky, there seemed to be endless dark clouds that covered all of Dorne. How suddenly this cloud-cover appeared without warning was concerning to the audience as shouts started. Then a shout came out as people started to suddenly look back up at a rapidly dropping object.
BOOM!
With a ground-shaking collision knocking down the screaming audience and clouding the air with sand, an object quickly became visible. It was a gigantic set of double doors that appeared blocking the entrance/exit of the arena. On the doors themselves were each a one-armed skeletal figure where the skeleton was positioned facing outward, but the arms themselves were bent from the outside in as if to grab towards the opening of the doors themselves.
Author Note: Think Bleach: Hell-verse gates of hell, but without the horns.
As the sand settled, and the audience gained their footing back, the doors began to grind open. As they opened, sand started to pour through the rippling-black opening, slowly at first, but building until the doorway was fully open. At full opening, the sand suddenly stopped getting sucked in. The eerie silence of the atmosphere only lasted mere seconds before a figure started to come out of the void of the doorway.
A gauntleted hand first appeared which was holding a metallic stave vertical. The stave, thicker at the top than at the bottom, somehow made an echoing thump even when it dug into an inch of sand. As the armored arm bent inwards, the rest of the figure strolled through. The lower portion of the figure was a loose closed robe that billowed without interference from the air currents around the audience. As anyone started to look upwards, they would notice the rest of the figure clad inside intricately detailed armor that gradually constricted to an impossibly thin waist. The robe changed from the billowing bottom, to have a plate-skirt which had slits open still until the thin waist. From the waist up, the figure was almost fully armored inside the armor. The armor was not bejeweled in any sense, however the detailed designs etched into it only had minimal wear-and-tear. The armor itself was built to the wearer as it was not bulging out in unnecessary places. Besides the pauldrons on the shoulders which showed as two blades scythes on both front and back of each shoulder, the most odd decoration was the headgear. Where the audience would have expected a plate helm as well to cover this thin, but imposing, figure was only a cloth hood. What made this hood stand out however was not the elongated tassels that did not follow aerodynamics, nor the sharp point at both the very top of the hood and the opening of the hood. No, what stood out the most was the hood itself covered too well. When anyone would try to peer through the hood, all they would see is a void even darker than the gate from where the figure came from. Nothing seemed to escape from the darkness underneath.
Author Note: Think The Reaper of Souls from Diablo 3, without the dual-wielding field scythes.
The figure made his way forward at a calm pace, each time he moved forward, the stave hit the ground, making the eerie thumping sound throughout the area. Eventually, he ended up inside the circular portion of the arena and only a few yards away from the Mountain. Only a few yards away, the audience could tell that the figure still did not come up to the shoulders of Ser Gregor Clegane. The audience, with fear, combined with awe and confusion, said nothing. Murmurs broke out only after the figure itself spoke.
"Gregor Clegane, we find you guilty of the murdering, rape, and torture of multitudes of the innocent. Your actions are so heinous, that I have been called here myself to mark the end of your existence in this universe."
The voice itself came out deep, dark, and gravelly like it was traveling through earth in order to be spoken.
"Who is 'we' you freak?! I only see one of you puny skinny runts! What can you do to hurt me?!"
With a eerie glow from the backside of the figure, what looked like the skeletal structure of wings became barely visible. They only showed white wisps of smoke which became in and out of focus. However, with a single flap of these wispy skeletal wings, the figure flew up smoothly only til he was at the height of the highest seat in the arena. The wispy wings did nothing more but shown on his back still, and the figure himself did not seem to be bobbing up and down like someone in normal flight would need too.
"I do not need to do anything but be the voice of those you have wronged." The figure corrected the Mountain. As the figure pointed back to the doorway he came, he announced, "Look to your sins Gregor Clegane. Look upon those that you have wronged."
The first shout amongst the crowd marked the first sight of what looked like mostly translucent human souls walking out of the dark void of the doorway. They did not walk out in lines, but as a mob marching towards a common threat. While some figures had more noticable visages, not all of them did as multiple souls seemed to take up the same space. As the number of souls increased inside the arena and started to surround the now visibly concerned Gregor, more and more souls seemed to overlap each other so that not too many individual souls were discerning. Only one soul seemed to be taken outside of the crowd of mixed souls as the armored figure, still floating, motioned like a spell-cast towards the crowd of souls. The single soul slowly started to climb into the air as if steadily pulled by the armored figure to stand next to them. There were some gasps in the crowd, and one dornish woman, who most looked to for confirmation, was visibly crying at the features of the soul in question as it eventually reached to the same elevation as the armored figure.
"This young soul before you was the former crowned prince, Aegon Targaryen. His short life, though loved by his family, ended tragically when Gregor Clegane bashed his head against the wall."
Gregor Clegane himself was still spinning around as he kept his eyes on the souls around him. Once he realized they were not going to attack, he looked back up in the sky to the armored figure. "So what?! You can't prove anything anyway. So what if these…things have some kind of grudge with me. It's not like they can hurt me as they are now!"
"Normally that would be true. Physically they cannot hurt you. That does not mean they, as souls, cannot do anything to your own soul."
Now Gregor was starting to sweat. "Hogwash, I don't believe anything you are saying now you Hellspawn! I will not be bullied by some unholy creature!"
The figure seemed to press something on his stave because a thinner sickle-blade sprung out from the larger top. Once the blade fully set in place, the souls at the bottom started to turn into streams of lights as they started flying towards the newly revealed blade. While multiple streams of lights amassed with increased speed into the blade, the armored figure slowly descended with the young soul of Aegon Targaryen by his side. By the time they reached the bottom, all of the souls had disappeared from the arena floor except for Aegon. Both the armored figure and the soul looked towards each other, before the armored figure nodded, and Aegon too disappeared into the sickle blade.
Gregor seemed to look confused as to the change in numbers, until the armored figure spoke.
"With the weight of their grievances, of all those you have wronged, we judge you now with their spiritual pressure, onto your own soul." Following these words, the figure pounded the stave to the arena floor twice in quick succession.
With the sound only of a sonic boom, suddenly Gregor face-planted into the arena floor. There was a groan as the gigantic man felt the initial impact. After a few seconds there was a roar, as the giant tried to fight the pressure and rise from his prone position. However, this was not meant to be as the giant fell back to the arena. This time, there were no more sounds of resistance from Gregor as he was silent as the audience watching his prone form. The Mountain, felled…by nothing visible.
The figure closed the distance slowly to the unconscious Clegane and flipped him over with ease so he was now facing stomach-up. With another motion he bent over and, like paper, ripped off the armor covering the chest of Gregor Clegane. Finally, with a glow from his gauntlet, the figure pressed the armored palm on Gregor's skin.
From the figure's palm, a growing symbol started to grow outward onto Gregors chest and continued to wrap around his body. Eventually it stopped and the gauntlet was removed from Gregor's chest. The figure turned to address the crowd.
"The judgment is cast. Gregor Clegane has been sentenced to death…in seven days. For seven days, anything done to him from castration, to sanguination, to blunt-force trama, and even wildfire will be healed by the next day. At high-noon on the seventh day, his soul will be ripped from his body by my mark and sent to the last layer of hell. No one will be able to remove the mark as it's cast directly on his soul. Attempt at removal will just regrow his skin, displaying the mark once again. His punishment in the afterlife: consciousness without stimulation. He will be by himself with no other soul, no vices, not being able to count the time past; lost in the void for all of eternity."
The figure turned to the crowd. "To the realms of men, I make this warning. Rabid dogs like this have no place in the coming years. A great calamity is coming. The realms of men must prepare as best they can. A long summer is coming, after that summer, if the realms of men are divided as they are now, it will be a winter that lasts forever. Look to your fellow man; it does not matter if they are Andal or one of the First Men, help one another, or end up worse than this cur."
Once done with its proclamation, the figure returned towards the open-maw of the skeletal doors with a steady gait. Once disappeared through the void-threshold, the doors groaned closed until they sealed shut. The doors then started to shimmer before vanishing. Rays of sunshine started to rapidly shoot through the previous cloud cover until the scene around the arena was back to the way it was before.
It wasn't until this moment that the audience started to shout. Some more devout believers of the Seven started to question if it was the Stranger that visited them today.
Over the next seven days, the Mountain was under constant surveillance as multiple parties partook of their own 'pound of flesh' from the former knight. Sandor realized that his brother's punishment was better than he would have thought of. After all, knowing the time of your death makes it much more prevalent in your mind. When Gregor was told of his punishment, he had waited for the Maester's to check out the newly formed seal on his chest. Once the Maesters, including ones with Valyrian chain-links, also proclaimed it was beyond their scope, the Mountain cut parts of his own skin off to see if that would stop his own judgment. To many-a-gasp, they found the seal fully healed the next day. Gregor started to go crazy. It also didn't help that in his restrained state, those left behind from his misdeeds took their pound of flesh.
Whether it be painful poisons forcibly swallowed, hot iron pokers piercing his body, or forced castration. Gregor felt all the pain. In a sweet sense of irony, all the wounds healed by the next day. Such torture could make any man not used to it easily start going crazy.
Even Sandor eventually got sick of watching some of the punishments. He didn't know if any man can truly watch their own worst enemy get castrated more than 4 times before it either gets sickening, or old-news. He already had his own early access to give his brother a matching scalded burn on the face so he got what he wanted in the end.
On the seventh day. The arena was filled again as those that stayed since the initial trial, and others that arrived shortly afterwards came to see what would happen. Would the promise of the mysterious figure hold true? Would something more happen at noon on the Seventh day? They were waiting in anticipation as to what would occur.
Gregor was dragged back into the arena, just blankly looking on in the moment. The days torture apparent on his body as his minders attached the manicles to the fitted rings on the arena floor before swiftly moving away.
There was tension between the audience members as they all looked on while the minutes seemed prolonged waiting for something to happen. There were murmurs as the sun was clearly high in the sky, but still nothing had happened.
Suddenly a cry of agony came from the prisoner as ,even manicled, he fell on his back rolling around as if the pain would be alleviated by his actions. On his chest, the once black markings of the seal were now glowing red-hot. The skin, also smoking on and around the edges of the markings. His screams only paused as he inhaled to gain more breath before further voicing his agony.
Then a single bass pulse went through the air as Gregor stopped moving; at least his body did. Now above his body stood the large spectral figure of the prisoner himself, looking down on his own corpse in almost relief, like his pain was finally over.
From underneath him, multiple black lines sprung up from the ground and latched onto the soul of Gregor. It wasn't until the audience looked closer that they realized the parts latched onto his soul looked like five fingered claws. The soul itself looked like it was screaming out, but no one heard a sound. Not even the audience made any noise as increasingly more black hands grabbed onto the errant soul which was slowly being dragged out of sight into the earth.
It was only moments until the 'soul' was finally gone and all that remained was the slumped corpse of the formerly menacing Mountain. Without further fanfare, the audience left the arena. All going their own ways, and spreading the story of what happened to 'The Mountain' in the end.
Dorne: In a private meeting
"I didn't realize your illusions would be all that powerful," Oberyn noted with a smirk. "I think you will start to see some people trying to impersonate that armor from your 'specter of death' during the trial by combat."
Hanko nodded. "I already apologized again to Elia about the trail. I know you all know it wasn't Aegon's actual soul that appeared, but the reminder of it all didn't help. I just wanted to make the whole thing mean something and 'showing' the deceased prince of the Seven Kingdoms was the best way to do that."
Doran, with an expression that could give the Quiet Wolf a run for his money decided to speak up. "Though it was a grim reminder of our lost family, I can understand why you had to and thank you for making sure once and for all that rabid dog was put down. I'm sure not only our family, but most of the Seven Kingdoms would applaud you if they knew it was you that did it in the end."
With a shrug, Hanko redirected the conversation. "Not to put a damper on what happened the last time, but when can we expect the next shipment of sand and goods to the North?"
Oberyn frowned at the reminder of the near death of his sister and his niece from the 'Storm of all Storms'. "We should be able to get that going in the next week or so. I hope you will be able to make some use of it all."
Hanko offered, "Trust me, we will be asking for a lot more as time goes on. Your greatest export might soon become sand of all things." Oberyn's expression went back to a smirk.
Doran even smirked at that one. "Woe unto all of us in Dorne if that were the case." That got the whole room a small chuckle. "I was surprised that Tywin didn't do anything with the trial. I expected some kind of blowback from it all."
"I heard from Jamie about that in a raven. Apparently, he gave Tywin some information I liberated from the Citadel about their crimes. Tywin was not happy about the findings but said as a token of thanks, he would leave us be with Gregor."
That had Doran and Oberyn surprised, Oberyn himself almost pale. "That makes me scared. What information would Tywin give up his attack-dog for?"
"I know of it, but even I will not say anything but 'personal family issues' and you cannot get me to say more."
Doran looked like he was going to push for the information at first, but instead decided to change the subject. "Can we still keep our Rockcrusher in the area? I do like it as a defense against the Stormlands from possible future invasion."
"Yea, just say you found it in some ruins and were able to control them from what you found there," Hanko offered. "I plan on doing something similar with the North."
"You plan on defending the North with some machines as well."
"Imagine the Ironborn shitting themselves when they try to raid Bear Island and come across bear-like machines." Hanko now grinned maniacally. "Seeing their reaction is something I would pay money for."
Doran grinned, "Thank you for the extra protection then." He paused, musing to himself before adding on. "Anything else you plan on doing once you get back to the North?"
Hanko grimaced as his thoughts went to a certain proposal he had to Lyanna two weeks ago now and the reaction he will no-doubt get from her brother. "I don't know, possibly leaving right after."
AUTHORS NOTE: I know it has been too long since the last chapter. I was both procrastinating along with just rewriting a ton of it, being worried about trying to make this a great chapter. I did have a interesting conversation with another author on this platform though and was told how they like to bulk upload chapters like I originally did with this series. I'm thinking of doing that as well for the future chapters. This way, people will get larger chunks of chapters to enjoy. Either way, you will sadly not see anything for this story for a while. I apologize to anyone that wanted to see more at faster intervals, but hope that you can still enjoy both what is currently available for this story along with the many other stories on this site!