Robb ignored the hulking presence of the Mountain and directed his simple, terse response to the Old Lion, "Who?"
"Does it matter?" Tywin Lannister answered coolly, holding Robb's blue eyes with his own green ones. "I captured over a thousand of your banners; Dustins, Ryswells, Freys, and Glovers. Did you really think to bluff me boy?"
Robb fought hard to keep from squirming, but couldn't stop himself from shifting ever so slightly in his saddle.
The Lord of Casterly Rock smiled without a trace of kindness, " You are Eddard Stark's son. Slaying a captive would not be … honorable," and the contempt he placed on the last word sizzled. "Whereas I, on the other hand, ..." and the Old Lion simply left the answer unsaid.
"He's bluffing," Edmure blurted out, not being able to restrain himself any longer. "Such an act would curse your family forever!"
"Would it? Aegon the Conqueror's dragons burned tens of thousands in making him King; and the Targaryens ruled for three centuries. My grandson is already King. What price is a thousand, if it ensures Lions remain on the Iron Throne?"
Robb gritted his teeth, "Then what do you propose?"
"On the morrow, you attack me." Tywin Lannister gestured toward the fortifications on the south shore. "And my banners won't even hide like worms in the earth."
Robb's knee twitched while he contemplated the offer. He swallowed, adam's apple bobbing. "No," he rasped. "I see no thousand prisoners before me. I see Lannister banners a horse. I see two hooded men who could be anyone. No."
"Tyrion!" the Old Lion called to his son.
"Bronn," the halfman muttered, and the hard looking guard with Tyrion reached over and lifted the hood off the man to his right.
"Willam!" Lohgun shouted in anguish. Bandages were wrapped around his friend's head and over his eyes.
"Hey boyo," Lord Dustin called back. "Stand firm, you got the bastards where …" Smack. The guard clobbered Willam in the head, causing the injured man to moan and reel dangerously.
Snickt!
"What happened to him!" the Badger snarled, kicking his horse forward; a clawed fist raised high.
The Mountain matched the wildling's sudden movement, spurring himself in front of his liege lord to loom over the wildling. "He lost his eyes," the behemoth hissed while easily drawing six feet of steel from his scabbard with only one hand.
"Lohgun! Honor the parley!" Robb snapped, causing the Badger to jerk hard on his reins and turn back into line. When he at last looked back up, Lohgun burned to find saw an arrogant smile on the Lannister's face. And behind the gold shitting bastard the other hooded had been unveiled to reveal Robett Glover with the guard holding a dagger to his throat.
"Attack me," the Old Lion repeated placidly.
Robb first turned back to the Greatjon.
"Fuck'em. Let's skewer the buggers now," he proclaimed loudly.
Robb's questioning look turned next to Roose Bolton. The pale man shook his head 'no.'
"Others take them," Rickard Karstark cursed.
"Do it!" Edmure snapped.
Tytos Blackwood and the Blackfish both uttered quiet "Nos."
Lastly Robb's sad eyes rested on Lohgun. And the Lord of Tumbledown Tower knew his young liege had already made up his mind. The Badger clenched both fists in rage. "Give me vengeance, my lord," he begged, raising his claws again. "Let me tear their hearts out."
"I'll rip your head off little man and shit down your worthless, wildling neck," the Mountain chortled evilly.
"Gregor," the Old Lion admonished.
Robb blinked. "No," he whispered softly.
Surprise flitted across Tywin Lannister's face. "What?" he asked.
"I said 'No!'" Robb declared with all the cold of the North. "Because if you do this thing, when I win, and I will win, I will remember your Lannister justice. And 'The Rains of Castamere,' the doom of Elia Martell, and the fates of Aegon and Rhaenys Targaryen will be visited upon your house, to the last branch and root."
The Lord of Casterly Rock did not take well to threats. "Sobeit," he replied icily. "The parley is over," and he tugged at his reins to turn his horse about.
"But you may take your son," Robb answered.
"What?!" everyone in earshot shouted. The Old Lion jerked his mount to a halt.
"That is," the young lord continued with a smirk, "if your champion can defeat my champion."
Tywin Lannister rubbed his hands together. "To the death?"
"Of course."
"Where? Here?"
"Yes. Right now, in the water; no horses, weapons only."
The Old Lion pursed his lips. "And if your champion wins?"
"We take Lords Dustin and Glover," he declared in a tone that said, 'isn't it obvious.'
Tywin Lannister sat still for a minute, contemplating the possible consequences, "Very well, I accept." Both Addam Marbrand and the Strongboar immediately barked requests to be appointed champion. "No. Gregor."
The giant dismounted, took the huge shield off the back of his horse, and drew his very long, very heavy sword. Tywin Lannister and the other Westerland lords withdrew to where Tyrion waited with Willam and Robett.
"This is foolish, milord," Roose counciled.
The Blackfish agreed, "If we lose the Kingslayer, the Lion might believe he can really get away with killing the prisoners."
"Somebody come babysit stumps here, so I can go kill the great ox" the Greatjon called.
"If the Mountain wins, the men will lose heart," Tytos complained.
"We should just launch an attack," Edmure whined.
"Silence," Robbed snapped at the lot of them, mirroring his father's command voice. The lords quieted, except for the Kingslayer who continued muttering his mantra of, "Hellfire, Hellfire," and looked expectantly at Robb. "The Badger will kill the Mountain."
"Bollocks!" the Greatjon swore. "The river don't even come up to my cock. The little man'll drown when he dismounts."
"The water will take away Lohgun's biggest advantage, his speed," the Blackfish warned.
With great assurance, the Lord of Winterfell announced, "The man who killed the Sword of Morning can dispatch that … thing. What say you, Badger?"
The song of death had started fluttering through his soul, exciting him, stoking the fires of his hate and anger. "Dying time," he said, hopping out of the saddle. Splash. Swish, swish. Two curved blades appeared in his hands. "The Mountain will bleed." And with that the Badger started off toward his foe.
Seeing the little man coming at him, Gregor Clegane returned the favor, big blade at the ready. At eight feet, the sword lashed out right to left, from high to low. The Badger ducked left and smacked the back of the passing blade with his katana. Lohgun kept moving to his left, Clegane's right, pushing closer, trying to within the big man's sword arc.
The Mountain planted his foot on the sandy bottom of the ford and pivoted in place to keep the much smaller man in front of him. The katana in Lohgun's right hand slashed out lightning quick, one, twice, thrice scrapping some colorful enamel covering off Clegane's thick plate mail. The Badger's ear heard the whistle of a backhanded blow cutting through the air, he dropped to one knee, water coming up to his chest. The sword just missed hitting the top of his helm. The smaller wakizashi sliced out, aiming for the join between gauntlet and forearm guard. Clang.
The behemoth didn't even grunt. The Winterfell forged blade hardly bit into the armor. Clegane followed up his own strike by swinging round his shield and clipping Lohgun in the shoulder, staggering him backward. The Mountain splashed forward, effortlessly twirling the longsword over his great helm for a downward strike. The wildling whirlwinded himself even further backward, just enough; the very tip of Clegane's blade causing sparks as it sheared through several steel rings of the Badger's hauberk.
The Badger plopped arse first into the shallow waters of the Ruby Ford. The Mountain's momentum rumbled him forward, unstoppable, but now too close to easily swing his blade again. So the eight foot tall monster simply punched straight out with it, the cross hilt catching the side of the Badger's T-faced helm. "Hunh!" Lohgun moaned.
Clegane walloped him again with the shield. Smash! The Badger tumbled over, completely submerging for a second beneath the Trident before bobbing back up, swordless and sputtering water out of mouth and nose. The Mountain loomed over him, shield and sword raised high in triumph, roaring, "Ain't nothing, ain't nobody, can beat me!"
Snickt! Snickt!
"Bleed," the wildling snarled. The three metal laced claws of the Badger's left fist drove into and through the armored joint of the monster's right knee. The cry of victory turned to a howl of pain. The Mountain's sword fell like an axe, bursting apart the back of Lohgun's mailed shirt, cracking ribs, crushing organs; blood, like ruby colored jewels, sprayed into the Trident.
The Badger punched out with the mismatched claws of his right hand, piercing through the steel cowter protecting the elbow of the giant's sword arm. Reflexively the Mountain's hand opened and he dropped his sword. "Gods damn you!" the injured Lannister pawn bellowed. Clegane shook his arm to dislodge the painful claws and hammered the shield on the Badger's thick skull.
Stars and spots and colors swirled in front of Lohgun's eyes, obscuring most of the massive foe from his vision. But he knew the man was close, deadly close. As the Mountain shifted and twisted, the Badger felt his claws slide out from the beast's knee. 'up. up. up.' He told himself. He slung his left arm nearly straight up.
"Guuuwaaaahhhhhh!" Clegane shrieked, bass voice raising to a soprano.
Blood and piss from the monster's groin dribbled down the wildling's arm. Then a mountain fell on top of him, burying him beneath the waters of the Trident.
An enormous weight held him down as he held his breath, shifting and wiggling to get away from the millstone crushing him. Lohgun could barely see light peaking around the edges of the heavy, heavy load shackling him to the sand and pebble strewn floor. Parts of the mountain still quaked and rumbled at him. Lungs burning, he got one knee firmly planted beneath himself and heaved, heaved, heaved.
Air. Sweet air.
His lower back felt torn off.
He wobbled to his feet. Clegane rested on the bottom.
The Badger kicked futilely at the mass. "Fucker," he spit feebly at the fallen foe. He looked around, stunned. The entire south bank thundered with cheers. "Joy," he muttered.
A huge, gauntleted hand grabbed his thigh and yanked him back into the water. Another huge fist started pounding him right in his bloody, ugly flap of torn flesh.
"DIEEEEEEEEE!" the Badger cried. Claws. 'Adamantium. Yes, adamantium,' he thought, sheathed claws struck out again and again and again into the impossibly broad chest beneath him, shredding the Mountain's heart until it could beat no more.