At King's Landing…
After a series of tense, strenuous trials and shocking tribulations, the day of reckoning had finally arrived. The trial by seven of Cersei Lannister and Petyr Baelish was now officially underway; located further away from the Red Keep, the stage was set on the Dragonpit atop Rhaenys's Hill—a giant domed structure designed to serve as a stable for the source and symbol of power for Targaryen kings: their dragons. Unfortunately, the site was later destroyed by a smallfolk uprising during the Targaryen civil war known as the Dance of Dragons; following the Dance of Dragons, the huge structure was never rebuilt and left in ruins ever since.
The entire arena had been set up, the gold crowned stag on a black field flew from many different angles, the sigil of Daveth's faction of House Baratheon, two pavilions set up—both with the Lannister banner on the left and the Baelish banner alongside it.
The Dragonpit arena was a few miles away from King's Landing, yet looked earie as several onlookers began taking their assigned seats. Lord Hand Tywin Lannister sat next to Queen Sansa Stark on his left, with Tyrion Lannister sitting to his right; the Wolf Queen was in her seven-month pregnancy yet her face was full of concern and worry. Shae, Sansa's Lorathi handmaiden, massaged her mistress's shoulder as if to reassure her that things will be all right again soon. The Old Lion's face still retained a cold, frowning scowl at the unnerving revelation of his only daughter's accusations and was more furious at the cold-hard evidence that was presented to him almost a month ago. He hadn't spoken to Cersei during her court trial, and had since quietly disinherited her. Tywin examined the Dragonpit closely—noticing squads of gold cloaks stationed at strategic locations around the exits with crossbowmen stationed atop the pillars on all sides, each one locked-and-loaded and ready to fire if necessary.
'I see what you've been planning, boy. Block all possible escape routes and have crossbows on standby should a certain party try anything,' Tywin noted.
Sansa observed the claimants and defendants and their seven respective champions. To her shock, she spotted Daveth standing alongside his champions: Barristan Selmy, Ariyana Dayne, Brienne of Tarth, Jaime Lannister, Lucius Blackmyre and Oberyn Martell. All of them were getting ready for the battle.
"Daveth?! What's he doing?" she gasped.
Shae hushed her mistress. "Calm down, Your Grace. We don't know why—"
"It's psychological warfare," Olyvar announced, sitting behind Sansa.
The Wolf Queen looked over her shoulder to look at him. "I… I'm sorry, do I…?"
"Oh, pardon my manners, Your Grace," he apologized. "I'm Olyvar Frey, eighteenth son of Lord Walder Frey and squire to His Grace King Daveth himself."
Sansa furrowed her brow slightly; Tyrion, meanwhile, was rather somewhat amused.
'Ah yes, that would explain the weasel-like face,' he thought.
"Why aren't you down there with your King?" Sansa asked.
Olyvar frowned, his facial expressions displayed disappointment. "I offered to be one of his seven champions, Your Grace, but he wouldn't allow it. Says it was a problem he had to deal with himself… that, and I'm still just a squire."
"Perhaps it's for the best," Tyrion said, "considering who my sister picked."
"Fate tends to work in mysterious way," a woman spoke.
Sansa turned to see a woman donned in crimson red attire with a large glowing ruby necklace sitting down beside Shae, looking like she belonged here. Most of the Red Keep staff had never seen this beautiful woman before, though whisperers only discovered her name as Vaeraleah; but have yet to determine her motives for being here.
"Who…?" Sansa tried to ask.
"Valar morghulis (all men must die)," Vaeraleah said simply.
Sansa raised an eyebrow and tilted her head slightly, possibly unsure as to what the woman said. Shae, however, perked her ears up at the High Valyrian language.
"Valar dohaeris (all men must serve)," Shae replied. "Sorry, but you'll have to stick with the Common Tongue. My mistress doesn't speak High Valyrian."
Sansa shook her head, not caring the slightest. "Who are you and why are you here?"
Vaeraleah merely smiled. "Who I am doesn't matter, child, but I simply came to pray for the King with the Lord's blessings."
"You're a priestess, then?"
She nodded. "Direct your eyes more closely to the arena, child, and you will see why."
On que, Sansa and Olyvar looked to see Cersei Lannister and Petyr Baelish arriving with their champions: Lyn Corbray, Morgarth, Lester, Lothor Brune, Lyonel Frey, Addam Marbrand… and Gregor Clegane. Their eyes widened in surprise.
"The Mountain?!" both of them exclaimed.
Cersei seemed half a child herself beside Ser Gregor, who stood at an almost colossal 8'0". In his armor, the Mountain looked bigger than any man had any right to be. Cladded in heavy plate armor over chainmail, dull grey steel dinted and scarred in battle with boiled leather and a layer of quilting underneath and wielding a large six-foot-long broadsword with one arm.
Daveth stared at Ser Gregor whilst polishing his Valyrian steel sword Stormbringer as his Kingsguard knights readied themselves for the imminent battle. Prince Oberyn Martell, meanwhile, was having his squire Ser Daemon Sand coating the Red Viper's spear. The Young Stag broke eye contact and examined Oberyn's leather armor. The Red Viper wore simple thick leather lamellar armor and a satin sash bearing the sigil of House Martell—a golden spear piercing a red sun on an orange field.
"You prefer wearing light armor?" he asked.
Prince Oberyn laughed. "I like to move around," he said coquettishly as if it were nothing. "Can't have anything slowing me down or hinder my movements. Unpredictability and speed is my element."
Daveth cringed at Oberyn's tone yet said nothing. He hadn't seen Oberyn fight before, but was about to soon enough. As much as notoriously fearsome, dangerously lethal and a much-feared warrior as he was, even the simplest knight knew that even the slightest misstep against Gregor Clegane would certainly be the single-most mistake that would definitely cost them their lives.
Lucius Blackmyre gripped his spiked club and flicked his wrist, testing his weapon's weight and density. Brienne unsheathed her longsword, mentally preparing herself. Ariyana Dayne spun Dawn in a circular motion with one hand while keeping her other hand gripping the pommel of her other longsword. Barristan Selmy—with Bastion in hand—eyed the Mountain before redirecting his attention to Ser Lyn Corbray, the same man who killed a badly wounded Prince Lewyn Martell during the Battle of the Trident twenty years ago. Jaime Lannister, meanwhile, still felt his heart sink at being forced into this situation by both his twin sister and nephew.
"Just remember that too much confidence can be your own hubris," mentioned Lucius; the Old Bull knowing all too-well of the dangers of hot-headedness and overwhelming passion. "And remember the plan we've gone over."
Oberyn shrugged his shoulders as if not caring. "You learn this during your years in the fighting pits? No? I thought not."
Before Lucius could scold the Red Viper, Ariyana chimed in.
"As much as I hate to say it, Prince Oberyn," she said, "but Dorne will need you intact. We've already lost enough."
"Oh, not you as well," the Red Viper rolled his eyes.
"She's right, Oberyn," Daveth agreed. "That's why I'm here. Not just to uphold my end of the bargain and provide strategic insight on the Mountain, but to keep all of you alive and make sure you don't do anything reckless."
Oberyn shook his head, slightly annoyed at the notion. As Cersei's and Petyr's champions began marching towards the center of the arena, Prince Oberyn's paramour Ellaria Sand's face paled at the sight of Ser Gregor "the Mountain" Clegane. Her eyes trained on him as he took center stage.
"You're going to fight that?" she said in a hushed voice.
"I'm going to kill that," Oberyn replied with such fire in his voice.
"He's the biggest man I've ever seen!"
"Size does not matter when you are flat on your back."
'I hope to Seven hells that you know what you're doing,' thought Daveth flatly.
Brienne rolled her eyes. "Focus, Prince Oberyn."
*PAH-PA-RAH!*
A dozen trumpeters blew a fanfare to the quiet crowd. Upon hearing this, Ser Barristan turned his head towards the other Kingsguard. "All right, everyone. It's time," he ordered.
As the champions representing the Crown and the accused walked towards the center of the arena, the High Septon prayed that the Father would help them in this judgment and that the Warrior would lend his strength to the arm of the men whose cause was just. Tywin, Tyrion, Sansa and Olyvar watched from their sears above as Grand Maester Pycelle steadily shuffled his way towards the center of the arena. The old maester gazed up at the center pavilion where Tywin and Sansa sat and began the opening speech.
"In the sight of Gods and men, we gather to ascertain the guilt or innocence of… this man Petyr Baelish and Her Grace the Queen Mother Cersei Lannister," Pycelle stuttered. "May the Mother grant them mercy. May the Father give them such justice as they deserve. And may the Warrior guide the hand of our champions. May the Smith grant them the strength to fight. May the Maiden grant the truth. May the Crone guide the hearts of the accused and accuser. And may the Stranger accompany those who fall on his way."
Vaeraleah closed her eyes and began reciting a prayer. "Āeksio, jehikagon aōha ōños bē bisa ābrītsos vala, se urnēptre zirȳla se path istis geron. (Lord, cast your light upon this young man, and show him the path he must walk)," she prayed. "Āeksiot Ōño, urnēptre īlva se drēje. Urnēptre Daveth Barāthēon se jemagon zirȳla hen se path hen sȳndror. Pryjagon ilagon lī qilōni nūmāzma naejot ōdrikagon zirȳla. Āeksiot Ōño, tepagon īlva sylvia. Syt Bantis zōbrie issa se ossȳngnoti lēdys. (Show us the truth. Lord of Light, guide Daveth Baratheon and lead him from the path of darkness. Strike down those who seek to harm him. Lord of Light, give us wisdom. For the night is dark and full of terrors.)"
*PAH-PA-RAH!*
It was the trumpet that would initiate the fight. The crowd cheered, except for Sansa. The Wolf Queen gulped and felt her hands begin to steadily shake. Shae once again had to settle her down. Daveth and his champions stepped forward; the Young Stag looked behind him to see Oberyn and Ellaria engage in a passionate kiss. The latter moved away from her to approach the arena, before she pulled him back by the hand.
"Don't leave me alone in this world," Ellaria begged quietly.
Oberyn smiled. "Never," he said softly as he picked up his spear.
Both sides eventually met in the center of the Dragonpit arena. Oberyn took a moment to spin the spear around to get familiar with the weight of it in his hands. Daveth watched as the Red Viper dance around the floor and impress the spectators with his acrobatics, spinning and jumping in a way he had never seen before. Oberyn ceased his acrobats and smiled at the crowd who cheered in excitement.
"Oberyn, stop showing off!" Ariyana called out.
Lyn Corbray shook his head in amusement. "Your Grace," he greeted.
Daveth looked at one of his mother's seven champions. "Ser Corbray," he returned.
"A shame we had to meet under these circumstances."
"Indeed."
"I fought the Mad King for your father at the Trident," Lyn mentioned.
"And before that you fought your liege lord Jon Arryn at the Mad King's behest at the gates of Gulltown," the Young Stag retorted. "Now you fight for mother and Littlefinger of all people. So it appears your loyalties are somewhat… flexible."
Lyn frowned deeply at the accusation. "I wish you good fortune in the wars to come," he gritted his teeth.
Daveth did not speak further, only to unsheathe Stormbringer—prompting the other Kingsguard knights to do the same. The opposing side did the same, each brandishing their blades ready for the fight. Cersei watched from the sidelines, smirking wickedly as the trial by seven was about to unfold. Petyr, meanwhile, kept his arms folded in his sleeves—but one glance in his eyes indicated he had something up his sleeve.
Oberyn finished turning from the crowd and towards his desired opponent, the Mountain, still smiling broadly.
"Have they told you who I am?" he asked amusedly.
"Some dead man," Ser Gregor roared inexorably and lunged forth with his broadsword.
This prompted Daveth and the Kingsguard to quickly jump into the fray, with their opponents unsheathing their blades to meet theirs. Sounds of steel clashing against steel echoed throughout the whole Dragonpit arena; gasps and exclamations rung from one spectator to another.
Wielding two swords at once, Ariyana parried blows from Ser Addam Marbrand and Lothor Brune—with Barristan Selmy aiding her. Brienne was locked in battle with Morgarth as Lucius Blackmyre battled Lyonel Frey while Jaime Lannister contended with Lester. Daveth, crossed swords with Lyn Corbray.
"You're pretty good, boy," Lyn grunted.
"The same couldn't be said of you," Daveth replied.
Getting under his skin, throw him off-balance… Daveth tacitly knew that Lyn was talented, but also vain, reckless and hot-tempered. If he got into the Valeman's head, he would control the battle. Lyn felt himself getting increasingly angry at the incredulous taunting from a combatant twenty years his junior.
Prince Oberyn, meanwhile, matched Ser Gregor Clegane blow for blow and easily dodged the Mountain's movements. Oberyn advanced quickly, the Mountain more ominously. The crowd cheered as he handled his spear with grace, speed and elegance. When their weapons separated, the Red Viper slid sideways and called out.
"I am the brother of Princess Elia Martell of Dorne," he said fiercely, his eyes remained locking onto the Mountain. "And do you why I have come all the way to this city? For you."
"Who?" asked Gregor Clegane.
"I'm going to hear you confess before you die. You raped my sister. You murdered her. You killed her children. Say it now and we can make this quick."
Twirling his spear, Oberyn jabbed his weapon, but Ser Gregor took the point on his blade and bulled back at the Dornish prince. The Red Viper spun away untouched. The spear darted forward and the Mountain slashed at it. Oberyn snapped it back before thrusting it again—knocking off Gregor's helmet.
Ariyana fended off her two opponents with fluidity, leaping over Ser Addam's shoulder and kicking him to the ground before spinning around to catch Lothor's blade with the sword gripped in her left hand before plunging Dawn through his chest. The first of Cersei's champions fell, but the disgraced Queen Mother still felt confident that only one of her champions would prevail.
Despite his old age, Barristan was able to quickly dispatch Morgrath with relative ease and Brienne eliminated Lyonel Frey with Lucius's aid—the Tarth maiden knocked Lyonel's blade out of his hand just as Lucius swung his spiked club and bludgeoned it deep into the Frey's skull—the sickening sound of bones crack reached their ears as the impact of the blow nearly squashed Lyonel's head. Ariyana brought her two swords clashing against Ser Addam Marbrand's; the middle-aged heir of Ashemark found himself struggling against a much younger adversary and a woman, no less! Ariyana spun her two blades so swiftly Ser Addam had trouble tracking her movements before finding enough room to slash at her; the Sword of the Morning ducked and spun around behind Addam, bringing Dawn to sever his right hamstring, forcing him to his knees.
Ariyana kicked Ser Addam's left leg and he fell onto his back. Before he could grab his sword, Ariyana stomped on his wrist and placed her knee on his chest, pointing the edge of Dawn to his throat.
"Stop! I yield!" Ser Addam conceded.
Cersei was beginning to shake her head—furious, outraged… three of her champions were slain, one surrendered. She turned to see her twin brother Jaime felling Lester. Even Petyr Baelish felt that luck was gradually turning against them; now having been reduced to two champions in a matter of minutes whilst Daveth and his champions remain standing, even the Lord Protector himself must have had to be feeling the intense pressure.
"Your Grace!" shouted Barristan.
Daveth, who remained locked in combat with Ser Lyn Corbray, shook him off. "I'll be fine, Lord Commander! Gather the others and help Oberyn!"
Queen Sansa still stood clutching her heart, trying to steady herself as the events unfolded before her eyes. Vaeraleah, on the other hand, still kept reciting a silent prayer.
" Āeksiot Ōño, dārōñe aōha kosh perzys bē aōha. Māzigon naejot zirȳla isse zȳhon jēda hen jorrāelagon. Syt Bantis zōbrie issa se ossȳngnoti lēdys. (Lord of Light, bless your Chosen One. Come to him in his time of need. For the night is dark and full of terrors.)"
Back down at the arena, Gregor Clegane let out a loud growl and thundered towards him with heavy footsteps. Prince Oberyn moved to the side and evaded the charging thrust.
"Say it!" he exclaimed.
The Mountain charged again at Oberyn, emitting guttural sounds yet still failed to even touch him as the Red Viper paced the floor.
"You raped her!" Oberyn called, feinting. "You murdered her!" he said, dodging a looping cut from Ser Gregor's broadsword. "You killed her children!"
Sword and spear intertwined, Gregor Clegane swung his sword upwards to break the deadlock. Oberyn jumped sideways to avoid the hit, backing even further as the Mountain charged again swinging wildly. Oberyn narrowed his eyes, aimed and thrusted forward with his spear, hitting Gregor in the chest but narrowly missing the gap in the Mountain's armor he needed to deliver the blow. The Mountain retaliated by delivering a swift kick to Oberyn's chest, knocking the Red Viper off his feet and stumbling backwards on the ground.
Ellaria Sand watched on in shock. The Mountain moved again, raising his blade high before being harried from behind by Ariyana Dayne.
"Gnah!" Gregor snarled, turning around to swing.
Ariyana ducked and spun sideways. "Over here, you brute!" she called out.
Ser Gregor charged again, only to be blindsided by Brienne of Tarth and Lucius Blackmyre's charge, ramming him in his unprotected flank.
"May the Stranger take you," Brienne hollered.
Cersei scowled deeply, yet Petyr Baelish calculatingly determined the Young Stag's strategy.
"Interesting," he said in realization. "His Grace knows the Mountain is the greatest threat and that keeping his champions separate from one another would spell out certain trouble."
"What do you mean?" snapped Cersei impatiently.
"By taking out each of the other champions one-by-one, the Mountain would be surrounded on all sides by the best and skilled warriors. I'm afraid that even the Mountain couldn't take them all on by himself."
Cersei shook her head at Littlefinger's explanation. It mattered not in her eyes. Ser Gregor Clegane would prevail in the end, superior numbers or no. Oberyn managed to recover quickly and soon got back to his feet, opting not to pause and take advantage of the confusion and pressed the attack. Daveth and Lyn traded blows with one another, the Young Stag looking quite pleased as the group strategy was beginning to unfold.
'As monstrously strong and large as he is, even someone like the Mountain is but a mad dog without a single strategic thought in his head,' he theorized. 'But even so, distractions only work for a certain period of time. It looks like I'll have quickly to wrap things up here and help out lest more problems arise.'
"Focus on the fight, boy!" Lyn hollered and charged again with his Valyrian steel blade Lady Forlorn.
Daveth brought Stormbringer up, parrying Lady Forlorn in the nick of time. Ser Lyn Corbray was apparently more skilled in combat than the Young Stag gave him credit for—though his movements indicated he was slightly making a misstep.
"Rrah!" Lyn brought Lady Forlorn down, only for King Daveth to sidestep and deliver a hard right hook to his face.
Lyn stumbled backwards from the punch. Swinging Stormbringer downwards, reining blow after blow and forcing the veteran Vale knight to his knees, Daveth shifted his position and swung sideways—knocking Lady Forlorn out of Lyn's hands before swiftly bringing back around.
*SHHHUNK!*
With one fell swing, Daveth drove Stormbringer into the side of Lyn Corbray's neck—nearly decapitating him. The Corbray knight released his grip on Lady Forlorn and his body slumped to the ground dead, blood shooting out of his neck. Once determine that his enemy was dead, Daveth turned to notice that it all came down to the next difficult task: overwhelming Ser Gregor "the Mountain" Clegane with superior numbers. The Young Stag gripped Stormbringer and moved to join the fray, only to be forced backwards by the Mountain's swing.
"You took your sweet time coming, Your Grace," Lucius panted.
Daveth shook his head. "I got a little sidetracked, but I'm here now."
"Good," Ariyana complained, "now can we please just kill this guy? He keeps forcing us back!"
"We kept trying to outflank him, but the Mountain's just as fast for a man of his size," Brienne pointed out.
"Then we'll simply have to wait for an opening to present itself!" Barristan responded.
Jaime Lannister moved to harass Gregor Clegane, nicking the Mountain's chainmail leggings before being knocked backwards himself.
"When he charges for another run, his rear flank will be exposed," Jaime examined. "Two groups ought to keep his left and right side, another keep the Mountain's focus on them while the other attacks from behind."
The Mountain threw down his sword and spun in a tornado motion, forcing the Kingsguard and Daveth himself to move backwards out of his range.
"The Mountain won't give us that time!" Ariyana added.
Lucius snorted. "Then we'll have to improvise! Everyone, be ready to attack at the same time!"
Oberyn, meanwhile, chose to attack again – drawing Ser Gregor Clegane away from them and towards him.
"Oberyn, what are you doing?" Daveth shouted.
The Mountain threw down his sword again and split Oberyn's spear in two, the Red Viper fell to the floor once again. The Mountain again swung his sword beneath him, but Barristan and Ariyana's intervention caught the impact though they found themselves struggling to hoist the Mountain's broadsword upwards considering his monstrous strength.
Oberyn used this to scurry out of the way as his squire Ser Daemon Sand tossed him another spear, ready to engage in the fight once more. Fueled by raging levels of anger at being harassed on all sides, the Mountain roared and lashed out at all around him—using the force of the momentum of his swing to fling Barristan and Ariyana away.
"Oof!"
"Nnugh!"
Both Ariyana and Barristan landed on their backs with a loud thud. Before they could get back up, the Mountain was ready to bring his blade down on them.
"You annoying little pests!" Gregor yelled.
Before the blade could come crashing down on them, Daveth charged into view. Lowering his head and shifting his position, the Young Stag rammed his shoulder against the Mountain's flank as fast and hard as he possibly could. Fortunately for him, the impact caused the Mountain to stumble just slightly enough for his blade to miss Barristan's head and hit the concrete close to his left shoulder, narrowly missing him. Unfortunately for Daveth, however, the Mountain only stumbled about two or three feet before regaining his balance and backhanded him across the face.
Daveth's cheek and jaw nearly snapped by the force of the Mountain's strike, blood spat out of his mouth and he spun around until he hit the floor.
"Daveth!" Sansa shrieked.
The Young Stag felt his world spinning, his ears were ringing. Here he thought getting hit by Lord Captain Victarion Greyjoy was rough, but getting hit by Ser Gregor Clegane however… that was considered much worse. Painful! Although lucky enough to still keep his teeth, Daveth felt incredibly disoriented and surprisingly couldn't find the strength to get back up right away.
"Protect the King!" Jaime shouted.
Seeing the Young Stag in trouble, Barristan, Lucius and Jaime broke ranks and gathered around the fallen Daveth. In the crowd, Sansa bit her lower lip as she trembled with distress; her eyes watered up and pleaded for Daveth to get up.
Cersei, as upset as she is over her situation, surprisingly found herself aghast at her firstborn son in such a condition.
"It all comes full circle," Petyr murmured. "Take out the King, then morale among the Kingsguard will break. And the Mountain will seize his chance."
The Golden Lioness kept silent. 'You damned, foolish boy… You only have yourself to blame to dragging us into this mess.'
Ariyana and Brienne moved to outflank the Mountain, but surprisingly Gregor Clegane kicked Brienne away and grabbed both of Ariyana's blades before lifting her up, swinging the Sword of the Morning around and throwing her against Brienne.
"Oof!" both women grunted as they collided with one another.
Ser Gregor huffed and puffed as he made his way towards the Kingsguard knights protecting Daveth. It was made apparent that after four years, the Mountain still held a deep grudge against the Young Stag. Barristan, Lucius and Jaime stood firm with their swords pointed and ready. All around the Dragonpit arena, the throng of spectators was creeping in towards the combatants, edging forward inch by inch to get a better view. The assembled City Watchmen tried to keep them back, shoving at the gawkers forcefully with their spears but there were hundreds of gawkers and only several dozens of the men in gold cloaks.
"Someone, please help him!" Sansa cried.
"Get up, Your Grace!" Olyvar stood. "Come on! Get up!"
Daveth was still on his knees, with one hand planted on his head and the other firmly on the ground to keep himself steady. Before the Mountain could reach them, Oberyn charged again and whacked Ser Gregor in the back with the hilt of his spear to divert his attention. With his gaze returned to the Red Viper, the Mountain was getting angrier, the rage etched on his brutish features and used his own weight to throw Oberyn around. As he raised his broadsword to finish him off, Oberyn saw an opening in Ser Gregor's armor and thrusted his spear upwards, stabbing him in the chest.
"Geugh!" the Mountain groaned.
As he stumbled, Oberyn quickly got to his feet and whacked the Mountain in the back with his spear again. Barristan, Jaime, Lucius, Ariyana and Brienne watched on as the Red Viper encircled his long-hated adversary.
"You raped her! You murdered her!" Prince Oberyn screamed louder; he shook his head, his face red and intense with anger and ferocity.
"SHUT UP!" Feeling himself suddenly disoriented, the Mountain stumbled and clumsily charged forward to bull rush, but Oberyn easily parried and skipped aside, circling around his back before pressing his spear across Ser Gregor's hamstring and gave a forceful yank backwards.
*SLASH!*
"Gnnnaagh! Uggh!" Ser Gregor shouted, forced to his knees.
Oberyn Martell, still seeing red, gripped his spear tightly and lunged. "YOU KILLED HER CHILDREN!" he screamed, leaping effortlessly into the air before burying his spear deep into the Mountain's stomach with the whole weight of his body behind it.
Coughing up blood, Ser Gregor was forced onto his back and was pinned to the floor. Everyone, including Tywin and Cersei Lannister—even Petyr Baelish—watched on as the Mountain spurted blood into the air. Everyone looks down surprised. The Kingsguard looked on in amazement, but Barristan soon felt a tug on his white cloak. Glancing backwards, Barristan the Bold noticed Daveth struggling to his feet.
"Your Grace!" he exclaimed.
"It's… it's not over yet," Daveth spat blood, pointing towards Ser Gregor. "Look. The… the Mountain still… still lives."
"I think you're still dizzy from that hit, nephew," Jaime protested.
Barristan opened his mouth to protest as well, but Lucius sensed something wasn't right; wrapping the Young Stag's arm and flinging it around his neck, the Old Bull helped lift Daveth to his feet and used his own body as a support structure to steady him.
"It'll be all right, Barristan. I've got him," Lucius reassured his superior officer.
"Go," Daveth repeated. "Stop… stop Oberyn from making a… a stupid mistake."
A few feet away, a furious Oberyn slowly encircles the prone Gregor and pulled his spear out of the Mountain's gut with a sickening sound.
"Wait. Are you dying?" he shook his head. "No, no, no. You can't die yet. You haven't confessed."
"What are you doing, Oberyn?!" Brienne called out. "Finish him now!"
"Finish it, Oberyn! Before it's too late!" shouted Ariyana.
Oberyn appeared to ignore them. "Say her name," he continued. "Say her name. Elia Martell. You raped her. You killed her children. Elia Martell."
Ser Gregor struggled to breathe; the people at the pavilion were solemn and silent. Sansa still worried for her husband, and the Lannisters were silent. Cersei's eyes shone a furiously dazzled look at the seemingly impossible fear pulled off before her presence.
"Who gave you the order? WHO GAVE YOU THE ORDER?!" Oberyn said hysterically, his voice boomed, his jaw quivered and shook as he pointed directly at the Hand of the King Lord Tywin Lannister. The spectators were silent and murmured at the gesture.
"Stop it, Oberyn!" Ariyana called out again, making several steps towards him. "Just kill him, already! He's still breathing! Kill him! Finish it!"
Barristan, Brienne and Jaime also approached with the intent on reining in the Red Viper's hot-headed passion.
"That's enough, Prince Oberyn!" Brienne called out.
"Say her name!" Oberyn continued. "You raped her! You murdered her! You killed her children. Say it. Say her name. Say it!"
Ser Clegane's hand shot up and quickly tripped up the Red Viper behind the knee, throwing him off-balance. Gregor's hand tightened and twisted, seizing Oberyn down on top of him with his hand wrapped tightly around his throat. The spectators gasped in shock at the turn of events.
"Damn it!" Ariyann immediately rushed to intervene.
The Mountain, now fully conscious and berserk with fury, was able to get off one punch against Oberyn's face—making splinters out the Red Viper's teeth and breaking his jaw in the process before the other Kingsguard knights Barristan Selmy, Brienne of Tarth and Jaime Lannister arrived and all equally kicked Ser Gregor in the face with enough force to knock him off of Oberyn. Ariyana pulled the disoriented Red Viper away for him to recover as Barristan and Jaime looked on in astonishment as Ser Gregor Clegane steadily rose to his feet.
"Elia Martell!" the Mountain roared for all to hear, his deep voice boomed. Gripping his fallen broadsword, he waved his blade around. "I killed her children! Then I raped her!"
Standing toe-to-toe with Ser Gregor Clegane in melee combat, Barristan, Brienne and Jaime met the charging thrust with swords against swords. Despite his monstrous size and injuries inflicted upon him, the Mountain was still a formidable foe capable of forcing the Kingsguard knights onto the defensive. With each downward swing, Jaime, Brienne and Barristan were each forced to their knees as they were forced to hold their swords up into a defensive parry.
"Then I smashed her fucking head in! Here, I'll show you!" he growled.
Swinging hard, Ser Gregor swept the Kingsguard in front of him aside—disarming them in the progress. Daveth was witnessing it and struggled against Lucius's grasp.
"No, Your Grace!" the Old Bull scolded. "You still haven't recovered yet!"
Daveth groaned. "If they die here, then all will be lost."
Straining with a pounding headache, Daveth shook Lucius and wobbly staggered forward with Lucius in tow and Stormbringer in hand.
"Stop it! Please, Daveth, stop!" Sansa screamed in terror.
"Stop it, Daveth!" Tyrion Lannister shouted in agreement.
"I'm begging you, please, stop it! Someone stop him! Daveth, stop! Please!"
"Don't do it, Your Grace! Stop!"
Ignoring the Wolf Queen and pleas and protests of the spectators, Vaeraleah enchanted one last silent prayer.
"Īlon epagon se āeksio naejot jehikagon zȳhon ōños, se tepagon iā gis se kustikāne naejot pyghagon arlī se elēnar hen sȳndror. (We ask the Lord to shine his light, and give a soul the strength to beat back the tide of darkness.)," she prayed. "Zȳhys perzys stepagon Āeksio Ōño jorepi, se gaomagon iā qēlītsos. Lēda mazverdagon, māzigon ābrar. Lēda ābrar, māzigon kirimves. Lēda kirimves, māzigon nāmorghūlilaros lyks. Āeksiot Ōño, urnēptre zirȳla se ñuhoso. Syt Bantis zōbrie issa se ossȳngnoti lēdys (We beg the Lord to share his fire, and keep a candle lit. With creation, comes life. With life, comes joy. With joy, comes eternal peace. Lord of Light, show him the way. For the night is dark and full of terrors.)"
"STOP IT!" Sansa screamed loudly.
Lifting his broadsword up over Barristan, Jaime and Brienne, Ser Gregor felt more woozy and groggily brought his blade down – but met with extreme resistance from Ariyana Dayne and Daveth Baratheon as their brought their respective swords Dawn and Stormbringer to hold the Mountain's attack at bay. The Young Stag strained as he fought to retain consciousness with Ariyana used both her blades to keep the Mountain from bringing his weapon down.
Seeing an opening, the wounded Oberyn Martell staggered to his feet and gripped his spear before lunging forward. With one thrust, the Red Viper thrusted his spear through the Mountain's mouth and shoved deeply—with three feet of his spear penetrating through the back of Ser Gregor's skull.
"Thank you," Oberyn replied in a daze.
Feeling the broadsword become gradually lighter, Ariyana and Daveth shoved the Mountain backwards as the gigantic behemoth slumped to the ground on his back with a loud thud. After a tense moment of pause, the stunned crowd erupted loudly. Sansa wiped her eyes, cleaning off her tear-stained cheeks in relief as it was finally over. Olyvar breathed a sigh of relief as did Tyrion. Vaeraleah nodded in approval, pleased with the outcome.
Ariyana approached Oberyn and offered her hand, with the Red Viper grasping her arm as the Sword of the Morning pulled him up in triumph. The Red Viper looked down at the face of the man who had been haunting him, House Martell and all of Dorne for nearly twenty years. His jaw still misaligned and bleeding from the mouth, Oberyn looked at Daveth and gave a short nod. Ellaria Sand ran towards her love, who was crying tears of happiness.
Having used up most of his strength, a disoriented Daveth fell to his knees in utter exhaustion—prompting Barristan Selmy and Lucius Blackmyre to help the Young Stag to his feet. Wrapping both his arms around their shoulders, the two Kingsguard congratulated the visibly exhausted, bruised and battered King on delivering the justice he had promised. Queen Sansa Stark, having marched down from the pavilions and despite her pregnancy, rushed to embrace her husband and ordered Brienne to help escort him back to the Red Keep to recover.
Petyr's eyes widened in shock and sunk to his knees in fear for his life; Cersei, meanwhile, found herself unable to get any words out as she stared in catatonic astonishment at Ser Gregor "the Mountain" Clegane's corpse. How? Why? How could things go horribly wrong?
Back on the pavilions, Lord Tywin shook his head and stood from his seat. "The gods have made their will known," the Old Lion spoke, a hint of shame and disappointment in his voice. "Cersei Lannister, Petyr Baelish… in the name of King Daveth of the House Baratheon, First of His Name, you are hereby sentenced to death."
Chapter End
Author's Note: Well, that one took about two or three days to complete. But here it is. Oberyn Martell lives and Cersei and Littlefinger are both so screwed. Though Daveth and Oberyn received a brutal beating from the Mountain himself, how do you think their interactions with one another will affect Dornish-Baratheon relations? And what of the red priestess Vaeraleah? What do you think her prayers meant in this chapter? In your own opinion, did they have any significant meaning or no? Thoughts? Let me know.
Also before I sign off, the next two or three chapters will be considered cameo interludes focusing on Stannis Baratheon, Jon Snow and the inevitable Battle of Castle Black. So stay tuned for more updates! You have my word. And remember… Ours is the Fury!
ashley. crowley. 10: Their death needs to be gruesome
Kat Morgon: Awesome! Thank you!
―You're welcome.
kira444: It's no surprise Cersei lost. Seriously, the only MVP on her team was the Mountain, up against some of the greatest warriors of the modern age. It's like having a Gyrados on a team of Magikarp going against a team of level 70 Pokémon led by a Zekrom (I totally could've used a better analogy than that, but nothing came to mind).
Guest #1: Man I'm surprised so many people think Cersei and Littlefinger and 100% done for, I'll believe it when I see it knowing those two and Game of Thrones, but in regards to this chapter nicely done!
C.E.W: Now that the trial by combat is over, and in the favor of Daveth as Cersei and Baelish have been sentenced to death. But count them out just yet, they're not dead yet and if you read the books and watch the series, if there is one thing to learn is that they can find their way out of a dozen situations. Qyburn is around and who knows what he will do at this time. As for Oberyn surviving, this will raise more favor and mixed feelings about Daveth in Dorne considering he risked his life to save Oberyn's. do the Martells have any idea the risks Daveth took to keep Oberyn alive, he practically risked stability of the realm. I sure hope Oberyn will write to Prince Doran about Daveth risking his own life and the safety of the realm to save Oberyn's life.
LunaEvanna Longbottom: This is what happens when you have an ego as big as Cersei's.
toile grant: good
patty. clark. 792: Bravo..! Loved it.
alexaguamenti: Fantastic chapter, as always. I wonder how Oberyn's being alive will change things. I can't wait to read more! Thanks for the update!
RHatch89: Awesome update :)
―Thanks.
Morgan: Great chapter! I was holding my breath the whole time. Tbh I expected one of the champions to die. Maybe Barristan or Oberyn.
I can't wait to see how the next scenes will play out after this turn of events
Hear My Fury: Okay. I need to cheer right now. YES! THANK YOU! Justice has finally been served rightfully! Thank the Old Gods, the New, The Lord of Light, hell even the Drowned God for this glorious end to the Mad Queen and the Bringer of Chaos! And thank God Oberyn's alive! I was worrying there for a second that he might not make it. Now I know Cersei will die. Varys won't help her, unlike Tyrion she's mad. She wouldn't make a worthy ally to Daenerys. And Littlefinger, well, he's not getting out of this clean either. And I know it's cruel, but I say burn them with Wildfire. Okay, that's harsh that wouldn't be too good for Daveth. But nonetheless thank you! And have a Merry Christmas sir!
The Three Stoogies: an awesome chapter and so brings and end to the mountain that rides. But will Daveth kill his mother or send her possibly to the silent sisters. Find out next time. Keep up the great work.
The Last Kenpachi: Is Daveth going to be angry at Oberyn?
―Had he not been smacked by the Mountain, he might've scolded him for a bit but he'll have to make sure his headache wears off. So Lucius and/or Ariyana might expressed slight disappointment off-screen.
mpowers045: Cersei and Littlefinger are so fucked now! I Just hope there won't be any interfering in the excecution
12345678910: Amazing work and thank you for letting obyrain live hope you update again soon love it so much amazing work
Einstein's Mistakes: Cersei better not live after the next chapter!
chase manaena: this was great
―Thanks.
10868letsgo: Yes! Oberyn had avenge Elia and her children. Daveth lived yahooo! Also, that red priestess Vaeraleah made some sot of prayer right. Will she proclaim him their savior or Jon Snow?
―I believe I mentioned the chosen saviors would be considered to be three sides of the same pyramid (which is still open to interpretation). Just as Melisandre believed Stannis, Jon Snow and Melisandre, Vaeraleah believes in Daveth as well. But like I said, three sides of the same pyramid.
Patty 4577: Then Bolton and Frey men come in and killed them all.
Hero mandelorian: Well oberyn is saved from his stupidity. 'Yea'. Hope Dorne remembers this in the future.
ZabuzasGirl: YeaH! Finally! Praise the lord! The Mountain is dead and the other two will follow for good this time! Yes!
Thank you! A marvelous early Christmas gift!
―Merry Christmas and a happy new year.
RedRat8: YES! Oberyn lives! Now Cersei and Petyr are done for! And Hell2U Mountain!