(Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire nor its characters. Those all belong to George R. R. Martin, aside from my OC.)

(Firmridge, the Riverlands)

Baelor was pleasantly surprised by the northerners showing, Jorah Mormont was no slouch, which he was quick to realise.

While hardly the best fighter he'd met, the man was certainly skilled, they had been fighting for a while now, neither giving ground to the other. It was invigorating if taxing and Baelor could feel himself improving.

Naturally, that did not mean he was willing to give the savage the victory.

He did his best to push back the northerner, moving with increased ferocity and hoping to break the man's guard. The Mormont parried most of his attacks successfully, though a few managed to get past him.

The bear's parries did not keep up for long as the cuts gained built and began to affect his performance. Not wanting to remain on the defensive the northerner thrust his sword toward Baelor's chest.

Pulling back, Baelor swung his blade in response and managed to knick him on his arms. Taking the opportunity given while the man was distracted by the cut, he swung again, this time giving a blow straight to his sword hand and forcing the man to drop his blade to the ground.

"Yield Lord Mormont. You are beaten," he said, with his sword pointed to the man's neck.

"Aye, the fight is yours, Ser Baelor," Jorah said, his tone doing nothing to hide his annoyance.

A look of surprise came to both men as Baelor felt a sharp object close to his neck.

"Well then, what do we have here." The smug voice of a man whose existence greatly irked spoke up.

"Prince Oberyn,"

"it seems both of you will have to yield now, Ser Breakwind."

That blasted nickname. It only happened once sevens damn him.

Before he could curse the manwhore, Baelor felt what he assumed was a hard knock on his head, completely blacking out as everything went silent.

…

"You going to put up a fight?" Oberyn raised his eyebrow at the northerner.

The man only shook his head in response, "I have already yielded."

"Good for you."

Oberyn left the two defeated men, as he sought another opponent to test his spear on. As for Lord Mathis, well that reachmen was already down.

There was a reason the tree needed to fight him with two of his fellow reachmen.

Whistling a jaunty tune, Oberyn casually waved to his cute niece as made his next move.

…

"That wasn't honorable of Uncle Oberyn, Dad," Edmund exclaimed in surprise.

Daenerys shook her head at his naivety, "Honor matters little during battle,"

"But… this isn't a battle." Edmund protested.

"It doesn't matter, the Martell won. How he did it is hardly important, a victory is all that matters in the end." She ignored the stick eye from Rhaenys.

They were both children, it would take time for them to understand or they'd suffer for it.

"She isn't wrong Ed, your Uncle saw an opportunity and took it. Hardly uncommon." Erlend said. He of course approved of Dany's words, and he felt that it was vital that his son would also realise it.

"Still though, he could've easily beaten him if he fought fairly."

"There was no reason for him to do so, why waste time and energy when he could've accomplished the same result far more easily."

Danaerys didn't miss the approving look she received from Erlend, which brought a smirk to her face. Truly no one understood her King better than her.

Unknown to her at the same moment, a certain silverette sneezed in surprise as she overlooked her army slaughtering the latest Dothraki Khaalsers sent by her enemies.

For that, she deemed that not a single rider would survive the battle.

How dare the horsefuckers try and make her sick, even without a Dragon, the fury of a Dragonlord was a thing to behold.

…

Thoros of Myr moved as no priest should, the flames on his sword made his attacks far more terrifying, and his swings were both swift and unpredictable, making him a formidable opponent to face.

Lorimas though remained unphased by the Red Priest's attacks, terrifying as they may be, the flames would not defeat him.

He reacted swiftly to every swing the priest made, responding with his own and parrying what he could, the flames proving ineffective against Ardent. It was a poor match-up for the priest, but the man persisted.

His thrusts and feints did their best to break down the Mudd's resistance, though Lorimas stood strong.

Ardent seemed to weaken the flames as they noticeably began to thin when the blades met.

Thoros tried to move back once he realised what was happening, but by then Lorimas had already noticed and pressed his attack. Giving the man no ground to retreat.

With a final strike, the blades met for the final time, and Thoro's sword nearly broke by the impact.

It was still a single piece if one could call it that, with the flames suddenly disappearing to both men's surprise.

Knowing he was beaten, "The daayyyy is yoooours, M'Lord." Thoros yielded, though his words slurred a bit.

The man was a hell of a fighter, even while drunk. That Lorimas would admit easily.

…

"I hope Father is going to be fine." Mya looked on to the field below worriedly.

Her father had been caught by the flames a few times during his battle with the red priest and she feared what effect the red priest's magic could have on him.

"He should be fine, your old man is made of sterner stuff," Dalia reassured her daughter.

While she was worried for her husband, she knew he had worse injuries, these could barely compare. Still, it was mighty foolish of him to attack the drunk priest head-on.

Magical blade or not, there was no reason for him to be so stupid.

"Father, Prince Oberyn, and the hound are the last ones standing," Mya noted. "He's going to win this."

"I'm sure he'll be happy to know you have so much confidence in him."

In the fight between the last three people, every time one tried to pull back, the other two would not hesitate to work together to force him back in.

It made for a confusing yet highly entertaining sight if the crowd cheers were of any indication.

…

Clegane and Oberyn didn't look too good, the men were visibly tiring faster than Lorimas who looked slightly winded by his previous fights.

The man held the distinct advantage of having a better blade and the stamina to hold both his opponents off. A war of attrition would see him come victorious, not something either competitor wanted.

Yet, they could break past his guard, something that frustrated them.

Their aggressive attacks were losing power quickly, yet Lorimas refused to go on the offensive.

It wouldn't be long before both would go down, that he was confident in.

Sandor, realising his situation decided to go for a sudden blow against the Prince, catching the man off guard and giving holding his sword to the prince's heart.

Lorimas decided to let the man have his win against the Dornish bastard, if only because the man had flirted with his wife. Petty considering the prince was only doing it jokingly, but Lorimas gained some satisfaction from it.

Dalia, sevens bless her soul had kicked the man in the balls and walked away, though that didn't mean he couldn't have his little vengeance.

"I Yield." the prince said, though he sounded more amused rather than angry.

The man retreated a bit back, as now Sandor and Lorimas faced each other.

Lorimas moved quickly once Oberyn retreated, his blade approaching the hound with swift precision.

Clegane instead of meeting Ardent head-on, dodged the attack, and immediately thrust to the Mudd's right, managing to get a blow in before Lorimas could react.

Wincing at the blow, Lorimas remained persistent, as he sent a flurry of attacks toward Sandor, who was forced on the defensive.

Having seen his previous fights, the hound refused to allow Lorimas any momentum, attacking every time the Mudd Lord tried to back away.

It was a game of back-and-forth between the two, though Lorimas held the advantage in his ability to keep up with the much younger opponent.

Sandor did his best to find any flaws in Lorimas's defenses, but none were given, having learned his lesson from the successful blow.

Tiring and knowing he wouldn't be able to keep it up for long, Sandor went in for a last swing, aiming to unhand his opponent.

Lorimas managed to parry the man's attack, but to his surprise, then proceeded to grab his sword arm and headbutted the hound right to his face.

Reeling from the sudden attack, Clegane quickly found himself unarmed and with a sword right to his neck. "The fuck."

"Yield?"

"Didn't know you had it in you, you old fuck." Sandor said once he recovered a bit from the attack.

Shrugging uncaringly, "It's better than sand in the eyes." Lorimas replied.

The crowd despite being taken aback by the unorthodox win, cheered as Lorimas was declared the winner.

Mya cheered the loudest as possible for her father, uncaring for the disapproving looks she received from some of the nobles present.

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