The Throne Room of the Red Keep was the largest hall in all of King's Landing, capable of easily holding thousands. Over the years, it had been the site of many infamous trials—such as the Mad King Aerys's trial of the Stark father and son. And today's trial would no doubt be counted among the most memorable.
What made this trial particularly intriguing to many was that it involved not one, but two kingslayers—both brothers, both from House Lannister. By the time this was over, people might well start calling the Lannisters the family of kingslayers.
Whether by design or coincidence, Tyrion had been brought to the hall early, locked alone in the defendant's dock. Gold Cloaks surrounded him, keeping him isolated—even Jaime wasn't allowed to approach.
One by one, the nobles and commoners of King's Landing who had been permitted to attend were ushered into the hall.
As Tyrion watched them file in, a sense of dread crept over him. Apart from a few lords and nobles from other kingdoms, the vast majority of attendees were local—nobles and townsfolk from King's Landing itself. And judging by the looks they gave him, many were people he had offended during the siege. A few of the nobles had even had their households stripped by him. Their eyes burned with hatred.
Soon after, the members of the Small Council arrived and took their seats.
The Wardens of the Seven Kingdoms entered as well, settling into the row of seats positioned just below the Iron Throne. Cersei arrived and sat beside the throne, her chair placed parallel to Lord Tywin's.
"Where is Prince Lynd?" Lord Tywin asked, glancing around.
Sansa rose and said, "His Highness said that Lord Tyrion is his friend. He chose not to attend this trial, to avoid letting personal feelings affect the fairness of the proceedings."
Tywin frowned slightly but nodded. "Very well. Let the trial begin."
And with that, Tyrion's trial unfolded, led by witness after witness.
Servants of the Red Keep, guards, and nobles of King's Landing alike all took the stand, each trying to prove one thing: that Tyrion had harbored ill intent toward King Joffrey I. They accused him of beating Joffrey on multiple occasions when he was young, and claimed that during the defense of the city, he had forced an injured Joffrey to stand atop the walls and fight—an attempt, they said, to have Stannis kill the boy.
Naturally, Tyrion defended himself against these accusations as best he could. But alone, with only his voice against the tide of condemnation, there was little he could do. Eventually, he stopped trying to argue. He sat quietly in the dock, knowing it was pointless to continue. All he had to do was wait until the end, admit guilt, and agree to don the black and join the Night's Watch.
But all those plans shattered the moment Shae entered the hall.
He hadn't imagined, not even in his worst nightmares, that his father would have the woman he loved testify against him. It dragged up memories of that night so many years ago—memories that still caused him pain. And when he heard Shae utter the word "whore," the rage and heartbreak were too much to bear.
He erupted like a lion in fury, roaring curses at everyone in the room. He condemned the liars who had made false accusations, the people of King's Landing whom he had once defended with his life, and the injustice of this farce of a trial. At the end of his outburst, he admitted to every charge—but he refused to take the black. Instead, he demanded a trial by combat, vowing to walk out of this viper's nest alive, just as he had done in the Eyrie.
But blinded by fury, he had clearly forgotten one critical detail: Tywin had chosen Gregor Clegane—the Mountain—as his champion. And Bronn, the man Tyrion had hoped would fight for him again, had declined.
"Why? I helped you win a noble title and a fief, and this is how you repay me?" Tyrion, now back in his cell awaiting the next day's trial by combat, stared at Bronn in disbelief, shouting in anger.
Bronn simply shrugged. "I've saved your life more than once. The title and the land? I earned them. And I already tried to help you escape—you were the one who said no. How is that my fault? Look, I'd like to help you, I really would, but your opponent is the Mountain. I don't want to end up dead in the arena before I've had a chance to enjoy being a lord."
Tyrion pointed at him, speechless, unable to argue. Bronn was right—if he fought, there was a good chance he'd be killed. And Tyrion didn't want to see his friend die because of him.
Tyrion spoke with a hint of despair. "So what now? Just sit here and wait to die?"
Bronn offered, "Aren't you friends with Lynd Tarran? Have him fight for you."
A flicker of hope crossed Tyrion's face.
"He won't fight." A voice came from outside the cell. A moment later, the Red Viper, Oberyn Martell, stepped inside and said, "If he intended to help you, he would've done so from the start. Since you chose trial by combat, he naturally won't intervene. Besides, he's a chosen of the Seven. If he takes your side in the duel, it would be as if the Seven themselves declared you innocent—what's the point of a trial by combat then?"
Tyrion was surprised to see Oberyn, but realization dawned quickly. He looked at him and said, "Prince Oberyn, are you offering to fight in my place?"
"Lynd always said you were one of the rare clever ones in the Seven Kingdoms. Looks like she was right." Oberyn made no effort to hide his intentions. "Yes, I'll fight for you. And in that trial, I'll make that bastard, the Mountain, confess to his crimes with his own mouth."
Tyrion's expression darkened. He knew exactly what crimes Oberyn meant—what had been done was inhuman, monstrous. But the man who had done it was a loyal hound of House Lannister.
Though the events that took place in the Red Keep had long spread across the Seven Kingdoms, Tywin had never acknowledged them, and the Mountain had never spoken of them. With no evidence, even those who suspected the Lannisters stayed silent, choosing to give them face. Even someone as righteous as Eddard Stark had only offered verbal condemnation.
But now, it was clear that Oberyn Martell intended to use the trial by combat as a stage, forcing the Mountain to admit his atrocities in front of the gathered lords and nobles. He might even go so far as to extract a confession that Tywin had ordered it all. If that happened, House Lannister's reputation would rot to the core, as foul as that of the already-destroyed House Frey.
That thought sparked a surge of satisfaction in Tyrion—vengeful, almost gleeful. Tywin Lannister had always looked down on the Freys. Watching Aunt Genna marry into House Frey had been one of his greatest regrets.
After he became Lord of Casterly Rock, Tywin had brought Genna back to live at the Rock and treated Emmon Frey worse than a servant.
Now imagine Tywin's face when he realized that the Lannisters, the house he'd spent decades building up, had become as disgraced and reviled as the Freys. The thought alone brought Tyrion a perverse sense of joy.
...
Oberyn had no idea what was going through Tyrion's mind. Thinking Tyrion was still unsure, he pressed on. "There's no point waiting for anyone else. Once Tywin named the Mountain as his champion, no one dared stand up for you. Your name is mud—so bad that even sellswords, who'll risk their necks for coin, are thinking twice. Let alone knights. I'm your only option."
"Can you win?" Tyrion asked, eyeing Oberyn carefully.
Oberyn tilted his head back and smirked. "What you should be asking is how I plan to kill that brute."
...
The trial by combat was turning into a grand spectacle. Tywin had originally planned to hold it in the Red Keep's courtyard, with only the Wardens and Lords of the Seven Kingdoms in attendance.
But at Tyrion's insistence, it was moved to the square before the Great Sept of Baelor. Now, not only would the nobility of the Seven Kingdoms witness the duel—commoners from King's Landing and even traveling merchants were allowed to gather and watch. It was clear Tyrion wanted to stir up a public storm.
Tywin had initially planned to refuse, citing that bloodshed wasn't permitted before the Great Sept. But Lynd, speaking on behalf of the Sept, gave her approval, leaving Tywin no choice but to agree.
By the day before the trial, viewing platforms had already been constructed around the square for the nobles, and every slightly elevated building nearby had been booked. People began gathering at the crack of dawn, hoping to secure the best spot for the spectacle to come.
After all, this trial by combat wasn't a clash between common fighters. One side was the infamous Gregor Clegane—the Mountain—feared across the Seven Kingdoms. The other was Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper, whose reputation, while less widespread, was no less dark. Everyone watching was eager to see which of these two men was truly the most ruthless villain in the realm.
By the day before the duel, betting houses across King's Landing had already opened countless wagers. Judging by the number of bets, most favored the Mountain. His sheer size alone made him an intimidating presence, and his brutal rampage through the Riverlands during the war had only amplified his terrifying legend.
In contrast, the Red Viper's fame was far more muted—mostly a swirl of rumors drifting in from the continent of Essos. He had spent the past several years secluded in Sunspear, rarely stepping out into the wider world, and as a result, many had barely even heard of him.
Still, nobles from the Reach and Dorne were quietly placing their bets on the Red Viper. They knew better than most just how dangerous he could be. To them, the Mountain—despite his size and strength—was nothing more than a walking target for a skilled spear.
"Don't underestimate your opponent. I'm not cleaning up your mess." When Lynd arrived at the square, he didn't go straight to his seat. Instead, he headed into Oberyn's tent and offered a stern warning.
But the Red Viper scoffed. "It's just the Mountain. Killing him will be like crushing an ant."
Lynd frowned, visibly concerned. "Your arrogance will be the death of you, Red Viper."
Oberyn hesitated for a moment, reading Lynd's serious expression. "You know something, don't you?"
"I saw it," Lynd replied. "You dying a horrible death at the Mountain's hands—because of your pride."
Oberyn fell silent for a few seconds before finally saying, "I'll be careful. But if the Seven truly want me to die here, I'll accept it."
Lynd could tell his warning had sunk in. He said no more, turning to leave the tent and heading toward the temporary terrace prepared for himself, Sansa, and Shireen.
When Lynd stepped onto the platform, the square erupted into cheers for the Chosen One. Nearly all the citizens of King's Landing bowed in his direction, and even merchants from across the Narrow Sea lowered their heads in respect.
Seeing how revered Lynd was among the people, Tywin's expression darkened. The other Wardens, however, exchanged thoughtful glances. It was clear they understood what this meant.
...
With Lynd's arrival, the trial by combat officially began. Tyrion was led out into the square, and the court herald loudly announced the charges. Instantly, dozens of spectators pulled out rotting vegetables and eggs they'd brought in advance and began hurling them at Tyrion, shouting, "Kill the little demon! Kill the little demon!"
Caught in the chaos, Tyrion was pelted several times before he managed to duck under the temporary platform where Lynd was standing. Only then did the barrage stop.
Amidst the uproar, the Red Viper and the Mountain entered the square. As Lynd remembered, Oberyn carried a long spear, while the Mountain wielded a massive greatsword with both hands.
When Tywin declared the duel underway, both men drew their weapons and charged.
Just like in Lynd's memory, the Mountain's blows were monstrously powerful—each swing capable of cleaving through armored men with ease. But his movements were slow and predictable. Oberyn had no trouble reading his attacks before they landed, slipping past them and finding weaknesses in the Mountain's form. He struck with his spear, piercing the armor and opening the first of many wounds.
As he fought, the Red Viper shouted accusation after accusation at the Mountain, demanding he confess to his past atrocities. His voice rang loud through the square, unsettling the already-confused Mountain and ensuring every noble and commoner present heard his words.
When Oberyn's accusations began echoing through the crowd, Tywin's face turned ashen. The murmurs among the audience made him clench his fists inside his sleeves, and veins bulged at his temples.
Meanwhile, the Mountain's wild attacks continued to miss, while every thrust from Oberyn left a fresh cut. Though none of the wounds were fatal, they were painful in ways the Mountain had never experienced before. He roared in frustration, swinging harder, trying to dull the pain with sheer rage—but nothing worked.
Then, seizing a moment when the Mountain's strength faltered, the Red Viper lunged twice, driving his spear through both of the Mountain's knees. The giant dropped to the ground.
At that moment, everyone watching believed the trial by combat was over.