As the first light strode past the windows and cracks of his cell, Tyrion was greeted with the coming of the morrow for today his fate was to be decided through a storm of swords. He was fortunate to be granted a deep sleep despite the circumstances, lulled by Oberyn Martell's fealty to become his champion against Gregor Clegane, the mountain.
Against his father, Tywin, and all those who wished to see his head on a spike.
He lively ate a breakfast meant for a king. Tyrion didn't know why but food seemed to bring some reassurance from all the day's worries. He just began to divulge into one of his applecakes when he heard an oncoming set of footsteps echo through the dungeons of the Red Keep. He wouldn't have minded if he at least finished his double helping of eggs.
Tyrion's unexpected visitor walked into the cell thanks to the member of the City's Watch, his helmet at his side to reveal his scowling features.
"Ser Meryn," Tyrion greeted. "Is the trial to begin already? I would rather finish what could possibly be my last meal before-"
"You are to be summoned along with the rest of the High Council. Your 'champion' has been found dead."
"What?" Tyrion said aloud, mainly to himself.
"You are to be escorted, in chains, to your destination and your destination only," The knight, in name only, finished. Another of the City's Watch followed to present the chains that the supposed murderer of king Joffrey would wear lavishly.
Tyrion began to stare forlornly at the rest of his breakfast, his appetite now gone.
Gold Cloaks surrounded Tyrion like a box as he was escorted through the halls. The chains hung his arms low, as were his spirits.
The entourage only stopped when they entered the chambers of the Grand Maester. Ser Meryn stepped to the side, allowing Tyrion full view of the High Council gathered around a table. At the center was Tywin, giving his youngest son the usual scowl, though not as great when Tyrion demanded the nature of his trial. Besides the Hand of The King was Cersei, her gaze of hatred still present since her son died in her arms. Close to the corner of the room was Ellaria Sand. The dark lining around her eyes drooped in faded streaks down her face. Laying upon the table was Oberyn Martell's corpse, devoid of life yet in perfect condition.
Tyrion was the first to speak up, "I get the feeling that I'm somehow responsible for this."
"Consider yourself fortunate," The elder Lannister dismissed. "This happened while we were all asleep."
"So what happened?"
Grand Maester Pycelle stumbled forward, "That is what we are still trying to uncover, if you would examine the body."
Tyrion approached the body on the table with hesitance on his heels. Oberyn's body laid naked and unabused.
"As you can see, there is nothing to indicate damage of any kind. No cuts, no bruises."
"Was anyone with him when he was killed?" Tyrion asked.
Everyone in the room then took a look at Ellaria who only look incredulously back at them. "How many times do I need to tell you, I didn't kill him!"
"Rest assured, you are far from guilty," Tywin said disinterestedly. "Grand Maester, are you sure he was not poisoned?"
"We have examined the food and wine last night and noticed no trace of poison in either. If there were any poison, Lady Sand would have joined Prince Martell in death. We did notice that he was choked to death but couldn't find anything that was blocking the air in his throat."
"How could someone choke to death if there was nothing to choke on?" Tyrion thought.
"Regardless, Lady Ellaria and our condolences will be sent to Dorne," Tywin said as he started to leave the room. "Make the preparations to cancel the tournament."
Incredulously, Tyrion turned to face his father leaving until he was stopped by one of the Kingsguard. "As far as I'm aware there is to be a trial by combat today."
Tywin stopped walking. "As your champion is laying on that table, there is no trial."
"Surely there must be another!" Tyrion protested. "Give me a chance, please!"
"There will be no trial if you have no champion," Tywin began to leave, everyone else but Tyrion and his escort behind.
Tyrion sat on the straw in his cell. His only chance at freedom laid on a table with no plausible explanation for his death. He saw a faint light at the corner of his cell right next to the stairs descending into the dungeon. Once the light was right at his door, it projected as the only source of light in his cell. Inside stepped Varys.
"I'm sorry to hear what happened to your champion," The bald man said. "But I have some good news for you."
"What could possibly be good news?" Tyrion said in a despondent tone.
"A few hours after you went back to your cell, two mysterious beings arrived. One of them offered to be your champion for the coming day."
Tyrion was surprised. "Really? Who are they?"
"We don't know, they refused to remove their hoods. I could still see the glow from their eyes."
Tyrion was too surprised to be cautious. "When will I get to meet them?"
"Tonight, they were offered to stay in the keep and will meet you in your cell shortly. While you are fortunate for another chance at freedom, I would be wary of your new friends."
Varys then left the cell, leaving Tyrion alone.
A few hours later, Tyrion was sleeping in his cell until he heard a gate close loudly. Sitting up, he saw two people descend the stairs to his cell. Excited, Tyrion sat up and adjusted his ragged shirt and unkempt hair. Rays from the torch lit up his cell until light filled the room once the two figures entered.
Then, Tyrion saw their faces.
He cursed himself for gasping out loud. Both of them were horned figures, one of them had red skin while the other was yellow, and black tattoos covered both of their faces down to their necks. The yellow one, the taller one, was holding the torch and appeared to have an arm made entirely of metal with some bandages. As both of them started to approach him, Tyrion inched further until his back was at the wall, breathing heavily. The shorter red man had a belt with glowing buttons, at least that's what Tyrion thought they were. He also heard strange noises from the red man's legs every time he moved.
"Are you Tyrion Lannister?" The red man's voice said in a soft breath. At a loss for words, Tyrion only nodded. "My name is Maul," He gestured to the larger man, "This is my brother Savage."
Savage only growled as a greeting.
Maul continued. "I heard that you were in need of a champion?"
"Yes," Tyrion stuttered. "My previous champion was found dead this morning."
"Ah yes, Prince Oberyn Martell was it?" Tyrion nodded. "How unfortunate it was for him to be found like that." Savage gave a short chuckle, only stopping when his brother gave a quick glare. "We arrived here earlier in the day and offered our services to your father and sister.."
"I appreciate the help," Tyrion said honestly. "But you do know about my sister's champion Ser Gregor Clegane? He's the largest and strongest man in all the realms. No one would dare fight him."
"Then he hasn't met me," Savage growled. Tyrion could not help holding back a bewildered look while Maul simply smirked. He thought these two must be madmen.
"However you go about it, why are you bothering to help me in the first place?" Tyrion asked.
"Well, what interested me was your story," Maul said.
"My-my story?"
"Yes," Maul replied with a slight hiss. "I was intrigued by your rather, tumultuous relationship with your family. Such a tragedy that a mind as sharp as yours goes unnoticed, worse unappreciated. Men with sharp tongues and wits are unfortunately the least appreciated individuals. They are the true reason a king will keep his throne."
Though annoyed at being pressed about his personal life, Tyrion couldn't help but be entranced by Maul's words.
"And what will I gain if your brother wins in my place?" Tyrion asked. "I will still be branded a traitor in the eyes of my father and sister, and you two will be put to death."
"Why the favor of the people of course," Maul responded, almost certain that Savage will win. "And a chance to prove your ungrateful family wrong and humiliate them all the same. Not only will you gain your freedom, but you will be granted a most gracious opportunity: revenge."
Tyrion imagined the look in Cersei's eyes if Ser Gregor were to lose his head. Whether he would have Casterly Rock after this trial, he didn't care. All he wanted was to walk away like the free man that he was. Tyrion thought back on all the times Cersei would belittle him, all the times Tywin never saw him for the son he deserved to be. He thought back to what happened with his first love when he ran away in his youth. Tyrion then imagined both the heads of Cersei and Tywin on a spike.
"Name your price," Tyrion said with excitement. "I could give you enough gold that you will live as lords. I promise that I will grant you land and titles as thanks."
Savage snorted as he and Maul looked at each other, almost incredulously at the offer.
"We do have a specific request, something that will be a possible feat for a man of your stature," Maul said. "But that will wait until after our victory, we are patient men and hope you are as well."
Maul and Savage then started to leave the room, and the light from the latter's torch with them, until Tyrion was alone in his cell again.
It was now the day of the tournament. Hundreds took their seats overlooking a vast lake; the sprawling countryside could be seen for miles. Tyrion stood under a small tent unable to quell the shudder as if he were in a deep chill. He knew how fortunate he was that the trial by combat would still commence. Otherwise, he would be kneeling on a chopping block instead of watching two brutish monsters fight to the death. The latter was more preferable to him.
Tyrion looked to the center of the crowd, the tent housing the most important lords and ladies. His father and sister sat right beside each other, staring at him with no expression. Tyrion then looked to the far end to see Jaime conversing with Mace Tyrell. Once they were done with their discussion, Jaime gave a nod of reassurance to his younger brother. Tyrion returned the gesture with gratitude.
He looked off to his side to check on his newly-elected champion. Savage stretched his muscles in his towering armor while Maul inspected the crowd with a keen eye, both of them wore hoods over their heads. The instance of gasps from the audience directed the trio's attention to a hulking armored figure entering from the stairs behind the arena, Ser Gregor strode to his tent while his squire held his monstrous-sized sword and shield. Tyrion wondered how long this one would last.
"I hate to be frank, but I believe it's safe to say that no one in the Seven Kingdoms has ever heard of you two," Tyrion said. "The way I see it, your brother may gain a great reputation for defeating the most monstrous knight in the realm. On the other hand, he may yet be another who has tried and failed."
"I will not fail," Savage growled. Tryion flinched. "I have felled warriors much greater than him."
"I meant no disrespect," Tyrion gulped. "It's just that your assurance of victory concerns me. Anything can happen out there."
"Rest assured, you have been placed under capable hands," Maul began. "In all honesty, I was the one who opted to duel but my brother's thirst for blood must be quenched. It would be unfair of me to deny him the opportunity."
Fanfare broke the conversation when Grand Maester Pycelle hobbled to the center of the sigil, where the lion and the stag pranced. What could have possibly been the longest introduction delivered by a human being, ensuing fanfare interrupted the Grand Maester at the simple wave of Tywin's hand.
As The Mountain's squire handed his sword and shield over, Savage took the scepter out of his hand only for Maul to extend his own hand out. After an annoyed growl, the horned warrior handed the short staff over and made his way to a small arsenal of weapons to the side.
"Might I ask, what is the purpose of having those staves you and your brother have?" Tyrion asked with a short scoff. "I never took either of you for magicians waving your wands about."
Maul sent a glare that silenced Tyrion effectively. "It would be better for the three of us that no one would see what our devices are capable of. What you perceive as 'magic' would simply be too complex for your feudal minds to handle."
Tyrion saw Savage grab a halberd but with the tip of the spear jutting out of the center of the axe head. As the brothers nodded, Savage entered the open space and discarded his hood. Tyrion's ears were pierced by screams from the audience, many of them stood and pointed their fingers at the horned figure as if he were a demon from the seven hells. Some had even taken off from their seats to flee from the auditorium, there would have been a stampede even if there were only a few more who had left. Tyrion looked to the pavilion and saw Pycelle had fainted. Cersei and Tywin looked to Savage, then at Tyrion horror upon their own faces. Jaime's look was the only one that made Tyrion feel somewhat regretful. Savage took his last steps before he stopped, resting the halberd upright. Tyrion could have sworn that he saw cracks on the floor. The screams then started to die down as many of the remaining audience members stayed to see what this mysterious warrior was capable of.
"What the fuck are you?" Ser Gregor said as jutted his head forward in an attempt to get a better look at his opponent.
"A Nightbrother of Dathomir," Savage responded before he gave a great thrust with his weapon. Ser Gregor barely had time to block the pointed jab, leaving a small crack on the front of his oaken shield. He retaliated with a swing of his sword only to have it blocked by the large blade in Savage's staff. Ser Gregor gave a yell and swung his greatsword down. The blade was stuck between the two blades and the pointed edge. Savage barely grunted as his opponent tried with all his might to bring the sword down further, merely bringing his polearm down to wring the blade away.
Ser Gregor gripped on both handles of his greatshield to block the oncoming blows from Savage. Chunks of wood flung as the knight had no choice but to step back from the relentless beating upon the only thing that prevented his head being cleaved in half. Tyrion had thought that it sounded like a door being kicked in by a mad drunkard, taking the effort of at least five men preventing it from opening. Before long, Ser Gregor's back stuck to the wall forcing the audience members sitting down to stand up to watch his fate. After one last swing, Ser Gregor's shield was in no better shape than the lid off of a barrel. Savage swatted the shield with his bare hand and let out a lunge with his spear, the blade was stuck on the wall. Ser Gregor broke almost into a full sprint to pick up his fallen greatsword just before Savage hoisted his weapon out. He gave a roar as he charged his horned opponent, swinging wildly with both hands gripping his weapon.
As for the crowd, Tyrion saw that they were now endeared with Savage's display of prowess with even some cheers. Jaime had even broke out an impressed nod once his gaze met Tyrion's, though he appeared to be still inspecting how Savage had fought.
Savage merely sidestepped not even bothering to protect himself from an early grave, he looked as if he was amused by The Mountain's berserker state. He had even used the handle of his spear to knock Ser Gregor's helmet to unmask his rage. The latter swiped his sword, aimed for the neck, until it was knocked aside. Savage pulled back his spear then lunged not at Ser Gregor's body nor his head, but his knee. Ser Gregor screamed in pain as he could no longer stand, a gaping hole was visible on his leg when Savage retrived his weapon. With one mere jab to the face, Savage brought Ser Gregor down on his back.
The blade pointed at Ser Gregor's heart, Savage brought his spear up high over his head. Tyrion's own heart nearly burst as if the blade was aimed at his chest. Before driving down his weapon, Savage looked at Tyrion and Maul with a salivating grin as if awaiting approval to deliver the killing blow. Tyrion could have sworn he heard Maul curse something from his lips until he saw Savage stumble over his back as Ser Gregor's hand shot at his abdomen like a cannonball.
With its balance lost, the spear rolled off to the side while Ser Gregor leaped from the ground until he was on top of Savage. With a roar, he slammed the backside of his fist against the side of Savage's mouth that would have made splinters out of any other man's teeth. He then began to pierce his thumbs aimed right at Savage's eye sockets, only a hair's breadth away thanks to the latter gripping each hand to keep them away.
"You fucking monster," Ser Gregor boomed. "I'll smash your fucking head in, like that Dornish bitch and her bastards!"
The steel fingers slowly descended further down to Savage's eyes. They had nearly pierced the two orbs had it not been for Savage letting out a roar that belonged to no man nor beast, then butted his head against the knight's. A loud crack was heard as Savage's horned head met Ser Gregor's, dazing the latter for a second until Savage send his foot through his chest. As Ser Gregor's back was on the ground again, Savage pounced on him like a lion. First came a jab at Ser Gregor's throat which forced him to cough as if he had the plague, then Savage slammed his foot down onto Ser Gregor's chest until it seemed that every bone had cracked in his ribcage. All Ser Gregor could do was wheeze what little air was left. Savage slammed both fists down at the knight's unprotected face until there was nothing left, chunks of flesh and bone flew in the air even after Ser Gregor's body stopped twitching. Tyrion felt inclined to throw up his morning breakfast after he thought he saw an eyeball roll in front of him. He looked to the crowd and only saw horror in their eyes, their earlier thronging had now diminished. Even Jaime couldn't bear to watch but stare at his brother, Tyrion assumed that he may have summoned a demon from the seven hells in his plight.
Once Ser Gregor's head was mush, bones, brains, and all, Savage stood to retrieve his spear. He then made his way back to the tent housing Maul and Tyrion. A moment had passed before Tywin stood.
"The gods had made their will known," He said with a shaking voice. "Tyrion Lannister, in the name of King Tommen of the house Baratheon first of his name, you are hereby free to live."
Tyrion looked to Cersei, the disbelief was apparent with her as well. He suddenly lost the desire to see his sister's and his father's heads on a spike, thanks to the lifeless corpse that used to be The Mountain. The Gold Cloaks approached the three victors to escort Tyrion back to his tower room. Maul and Savage stayed put, their figures shrinking as Tyrion moved further away.
"Where in seven hells did you find those two?" Jaime demanded.
"That is what I am trying to say, I don't know," Tyrion said. "Oberyn was found dead and It had seemed no one would fight in my stead until those two came to my cell in the middle of the night!"
Jaime paced around the room, gripping his wrist where his hand used to be. "Don't you find it odd that those two just so happened to be in the right place at the right time? What did they even want with you?"
"I still don't know but that doesn't matter now. I'm a free man who can choose wherever he goes."
"But where will you go?" Jaime responded. "Cersei and our father will have you killed the longer you stay here."
"I will admit I hadn't thought of actually winning my freedom thoroughly."
"I didn't think you would, which is why I made the plans," said a voice that didn't belong to Jaime. Tyrion looked to the other side of the room and saw Varys hidden in plain sight the whole time.
"Lord Varys," Tyrion nearly gasped. "You would actually do that for me?"
"In a more preferable scenario, Oberyn Martell would have taken you to Dorne for asylum. Seeing that he is dead, and the current state of Ellaria Sand, going south is out of the question."
"Then where would I go? My father would never give me Casterly Rock, Bronn and Lollys would grant me some asylum but not for long."
"Then you must go east," Varys responded. "A close friend of mine owns a wealthy estate in Pentos and he has experience granting asylum to enemies of the crown."
"What a coincidence, my brother and I desire to go east as well."
The three snapped their heads to the door that was now ajar, and to Maul and Savage.
"You," Jaime hissed. "What your brother did during the trial wasn't the work of a warrior, but of a reckless, impulsive animal."
Savage growled like a hungry beast until Maul stopped him with only a wave of his hand. Maul then began to approach Jaime slowly.
"I wonder, is this how you thank the two of us for saving your brothers' life?"
"Don't act as if you ever cared," Jaime retorted. "The day before, Oberyn Martell vowed to fight for Tyrion's life. Yesterday he was found dead for reasons we still don't know. Then you two arrive here at the capitol, don't tell me this was merely the will of the Seven."
Tyrion saw no change in Maul's expression, nothing but the glare in his eyes burning akin to an eclipse. "We are merely two travelers who just so happened to hear the unfortunate news. Your father gave us the challenge and we happily accepted."
"But with a cost, no doubt," Jaime said. "Something for the both of you to gain at the end, so what is it? Gold? Titles? Land? Have some honesty for once."
Maul turned away. "We have heard there is a great shadow in a land where the light does not even meet the earth. Where the binders of darkness meet."
Maul turned to face the horrified expressions of the three men. Tyrion swore that these two were madmen.
"You speak of Asshai," Varys gasped. "The land of the shadow binders."
"Only those truly mad would even dream of going there," Jaime said. "And even they would not dare tread the corpse city Stygai."
"We were raised by witches and dark lords," Savage rebuked. "Darkness is our ally."
Varys spoke up. "Even if you were to make the trip, it would be far past Pentos literally at the edge of the world. It would be out of the question for my friend to plan such an expedition."
"We only request passage across the sea," Maul continued. "From there, we will make the journey ourselves."
Maul and Savage then began to leave to room, the latter shutting the door leaving Tyrion, Jaime, and Varys alone to themselves.
"Asshai?" Jaime wondered aloud. "What could they possibly want in Asshai?"
"Probably best that we don't know," Varys replied. "I have seen a great many of strange individuals, but nothing like these two."
Tyrion remembered the complete coincidence that Maul and Savage arrived right after Oberyn Martell was murdered. He remembered their devilish looks in the darkness of his cell. Tyrion recollected Savage beating The Mountain's head into pieces during the trial by combat. It seemed that now his victory and freedom were unearned.
"It seems we have traded one monster for two."