Combat Arena Base of the Red Keep - King's Landing, CrownLands
By the base of the Red Keep, from the other side and with no view of the sea; one could easily find the Combat Arena. It was first designed for combats meant to impress the kings and make worthy knights stand out, now it served as the place for the Trial by Combat.
The arena was circular and big, a faint layer of sand covered the stone floor beneath it as the benches for the crowd were built all around it. The majority of the crowd were in the same space, held back by marble and stone railing while the ones with the best view, were the royal box.
Just a bit taller than the height of the arena, anyone there had a full view of everything and they also had shade from the sun. Seven chairs had been placed on the royal booth/stage, occupied by all the important members that day.
At the far left you had Jaime and at his right was Lord Mace. Next to the Tyrell Lord was Trystan, followed by his father, his mother, Cersei and last was Varys.
Each one had a different expression on their faces with the two male lion siblings clearly anxious about what would take place. Visenya was oddly calm but one could faintly see how sometimes she would tap her finger gently against the arm of her chair.
Cersei was the one, who seemed to enjoy the moment, confident that her champion would end Oberyn and Tyrion would die for murdering her son. Tywin did not seem that pleased with the arrangements, simply because he wished for the Mountain to be far away. He had made sure of that until his stupid daughter summoned him as her champion; being unaware that it was his very own wife that had whispered the idea to her ear.
Varys seemed equally nervous and did not hide it, sometimes glancing at the others in the booth with him. He appreciated Tyrion as an ally and as someone, who could truly help the realm, compared to most; he did not wish to see him die.
Pycelle was in the middle of the arena, giving the usual speech before every trial but halfway through his speech; Tywin motioned for him to cut it short and let the combat finally begin.
At last, the combat was about to start.
The Mountain had a long sword, one specially made for his height and strength but his opponent was equally prepared.
His squire tossed him his spear and he proceeded to move around the arena, flipping and spinning with the weapon like some sort of dance.
He came to a halt in front of the royal booth and offered the crowd his signature smirk while receiving cheers and applause for his performance. His eyes went to the Royal Booth and locked with Visenya's, who had the faintest smile of amusement from his cocky performance.
Tywin, of course, took notice and his lips did not hide his frown nor did he bother to hide his glare; directly sending it at the flirtiest Dornish Prince.
Of course, Oberyn was simply pleased to amuse her and piss Tywin off. Having it accomplished, he turned to face his opponent.
"Have they told you who I am?" he asked the Mountain.
"Some dead man," Ser Gregor replied and lunged forward for an attack.
His attacks were slow but each strike had weight and strength behind it. One would be enough to break bones and cut limbs if they found their target. However, the Dornish Prince was faster.
With his leather armour and the length of his weapon, he easily blocked the attacks, dodged, created a nice cut in the opening of the man's steel armour and then moved a few steps back.
"I am the brother of Elia Martell," he said as he started to circle the huge man. "Do you know why I have come all the way to this stinking shit-pile of a city?" A dramatic pause. "For you."
Oberyn charged his attacks fast and unpredictably. Ser Gregor barely managed to block them and received another slashing wound before his opponent withdrew back; dodging the long sword at the last second.
That close call had Visenya hold her breath momentarily but then release it upon seeing that the Dornish Prince was unharmed, too fast for the sword to reach him.
Don't chase your luck, Oberyn, she thought mentally as if he could somehow hear her thoughts.
He started circling the Mountain again.
"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."
The only response he got from his opponent was an attempt to slice him but Oberyn was quicker. He blocked, dodged and delivered another slashing strike; the poison in his blade spreading across the huge body of the Mountain faster now.
He kept attacking him with the spear but Ser Gregor had enough battle experience to dodge the rest of his attacks, more than once came close enough to trap his weapon to the ground but Oberyn always managed to set it free.
In one last attempt, he dodged under the huge arm of his opponent and smacked him on the back of his head. The force knocked the Mountain's helmet off and it rolled on the ground beneath.
"Say it. You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children."
Oberyn repeated, now taunting his opponent.
He moved with the grace of a snake, dodging all of Ser Gregor's attempts and even doing two different mid-air flips; as if participating in some elegant dance.
Visenya, who was watching, smirked upon recognizing the particular style that she had witnessed and also copied while in Essos. Of course, hers was different but had a similar base; with fewer jumps lately after all those years.
Trystan, who was on the other side of his father, was glued to the battle. His lips were parted and he had even bent a little bit forward, too intrigued and invested in the combat below him. He observed how smoothly and quickly Oberyn moved and how the spear was like an extension of his arm.
Not once did the length prove to be trouble and instead seemed to simply be a leverage. He had never seen someone fight like that and now he felt the need to ask for some lessons from the Dornish Prince if he would survive this battle.
Yet, he did not fail to notice the quick side and back steps that were part of his "choreography." He quickly came to realize that it was similar to his mother's fighting style, the very same one he had been taught when he was younger.
He glanced in her direction, seeing her admiring but also enjoying Oberyn's show. He was now more than curious as to what their connection was, for there was definitely some past the two of them shared.
He dared to glance at his father, seeing him glaring at Oberyn.
Tywin was annoyed, for this battle was becoming a show more than it was combat to determine the fate of his dwarf son. It was clear to him that Oberyn was trying to get the information he wanted, the confession that the Mountain acted on his own.
He saw the fighting style of their Dornish guest and he was no fool, he had seen it before. There were many styles of fighting; some were based more on strength and the honour of a knight and others were more versatile.
Someone of thin build or lower strength had better chances using their speed and advanced ability to dodge; when locked in combat. It was a mixed fighting style that Visenya used, one he had observed many times over the years when she trained.
He did not have to look her way, to know she was enjoying it. She had never let go of the event that happened with Elia and he knew it. She did not blame him personally but she often reminded him, especially when the discussion would involve Ser Gregor; since in her eyes, he was dangerous and uncontrollable.
"You raped her! You murdered her! You killed her children!" Oberyn shouted and stabbed the Mountain in the gut.
However, as he pulled the spear back; Ser Gregor attacked. In an attempt to dodge him, Oberyn received a kick to the stomach and was thrown back; falling to his back. This earned a few gasps from the crowd, Ellaria and silent tiny reactions from Visenya and Trystan.
Yet, the Red Viper quickly got on his feet and started to fight again. Ser Gregor had started to become slower with the attacks as the venom worked through his body. In the end, he did manage to break Oberyn's spear by cutting it at the wooden part of it.
It forced Oberyn to jump back but with a few side spins and impressive acrobatics, he avoided all of the sword attacks and put some distance between him and his opponent. His squire tossed him another spear.
They went at it again but this time, the Dornish Prince was done playing nice as his anger and his need for revenge took hold of his mind. He delivered another brutal stab in the guts and then a slice at the Mountain's calf.
"You raped her! You murdered her!"
He injured Gregor's arm and then dodged his attack and sliced the back of the man's heel; sending him to the ground. The Mountain tried to stand up but kneeled, unable to use his one leg now that the heel tendon had been severed.
"You killed her children!"
Oberyn shouted and with a jump, he placed his spear blade through an opening in Ser Gregor's armour, right beneath his ribcage. The force made the monstrous man fall on his back, blood came from his mouth as the spear remained in his body.
The Dornish Prince started to circle him.
"Wait. Are you dying? No, no, no. You can't die yet. You haven't confessed."
He said and pulled the spear, its tip a bloody red as the drops stained the floor beneath while he kept circling his opponent.
"Say it. Say her name. Elia Martell. You raped her. You killed her children. Elia Martell."
He stopped to face the royal booth and pointed a finger at Tywin.
"Who gave you the order? Who gave you the order?!"
When he received no reply, Oberyn turned to the Mountain.
"Say her name! You raped her! You murdered her! You killed her children. Say it. Say her name. Say it!"
His anger had gotten the best of him and the Red Viper made one critical mistake; he came too close.
The Mountain extended his hand and grabbed one of the man's legs, pulling him to the ground with him.
Oberyn fell to his back, the shock making him lose the grip of his spear as the Mountain moved to almost straddle him. He placed his huge hands around Oberyn's neck, keeping him pinned to the ground.
Ellaria gasped from shock and fear, her hands covering her mouth and she almost fell ready to collapse upon seeing her lover on the ground; about to die.
Tyrion had paled, realizing he would most likely die and Dorne would rain fire and poison at them for the death of their prince.
Visenya had moved from her chair, leaning forward to see better while her skin paled a few tones. She did not hide her worry or her concern, taking all of her training and mental control not to move fully from her chair.
"Elia Martell. I killed her children," Ser Gregor spat, ignoring how Oberyn was trying to loosen his deadly grip on his neck. "Then I raped her. Then I smashed her head in like this!"
The Mountain moved his hands towards Oberyn's head, ready to show the world how he did it; repeat the actions and kill one more Martell.
However, he never managed.
Oberyn used his one hand to pull something from his waist and the very next second, he took a rather lucky strike. He could not see his opponent but attacked where he felt it would hit and as if the Seven wanted it; his strike was successful.
The Valyrian steel dagger pierced through the Mountain's head at the right side, the blade going deep until the leather-bound hilt was the only thing protruding. The strike was quick and lethal; ending the life of the knight known as Ser Gregor.
The Mountain collapsed forward but Oberyn somehow managed to move and avoid being crushed to death by the weight of the monster.
He felt the weight falling on his leg and arm but nothing was broken and it took him a few seconds to fully be free.
Blood came from the back of his head from the hit against the ground and he did feel a little bit dizzy but the satisfaction he felt was far stronger than any of it. He lifted his hands up into the air as the crowd went wild, cheering and clapping and generally applauding him.
He had done it. He had made the Mountain confess and took revenge for the death of his sister and her children. While the monster did not point fingers at Tywin, Oberyn knew that at least Elia's death was all on the mad dog.
He looked at the royal booth once again as he lowered his hand, his chest moving up and down despite his armour as adrenaline was rushing through his body like wildfire.
He looked first at Cersei, who was the most displeased of all; knowing that her plan had failed and Tyrion would leave.
He then looked at Tywin, whose jaw was clenched and so was his fist. He had just lost a good soldier of his and would have to proclaim Tyrion innocent.
Lastly, Oberyn looked at Visenya. She had leaned back on her chair in relief upon seeing the Mountain collapsing. There was gratitude in her amber eyes, accompanied by a sweet small smile.
After all those years, it was over. After all those years, the souls of Elia and her children could rest in peace; knowing that their murderer was taken care of and their deaths had been avenged.
After all those years, the Era of the Mountain came to an end.
Tywin stood up and the crowd quickly went quiet. The Old Lion stared down at Oberyn but everyone knew what he would say.
"The gods have made their will known. Tyrion Lannister, in the name of King Tommen of the House Baratheon, First of His Name, you are hereby proven innocent of all charges against you."
The crowd cheered again and the dwarf felt the need to just sit down.
He was certain that with all that stress he got during the combat, most of his golden hair had turned white by now. He glanced at the royal box as well.
Cersei was glaring at him, planning to find another way to get her revenge. Jaime and Trystan were smiling, relieved and happy that they did not lose their brother. Even Varys seemed relieved with everything, with only Tywin frowning.