( Nymeria POV )
"How did it go?" he asked.
"Fine," she replied with a dint of confidence, something that had been lacking. She turned to him then, with a small smile. "He will win."
Quentyn looked surprised, and nodded grimly.
"Let's hope you're right."
...
A trumpet sounded, and the two fighters appeared, coming at opposite ends. Ellaria rushed down the stairs, and whispered something into her father's ear. Quentyn's eyes were riveted on the two…or was it on the helmet her father was wearing?
Nymeria's eyes were more riveted on her father's opponent. The Mountain certainly hadn't stolen his moniker. He stood taller than any man she'd ever seen, and suddenly her confidence dropped sharply. He stood at least two feet taller than anyone here!
His shield was likely as large as Nymeria herself, a monstrous thing made of oak and rimmed with black iron, with the Clegane hounds painted on the front.
Her heart sank at the prospect of her father having to fight that monster. Slowly, her grip tightened on Quentyn's hand, while Ellaria took back her place amongst the Dornishmen.
Another trumpet sounded, and both fighters took their place. It seems the Dornish, although they had been separated from the others, had the best seats, since Nymeria was sure she could hear both combatants breathing.
Slowly, inexorably, her father and the Mountain closed in on each other. When they were within but ten yards of each other, her father stopped.
"Did they tell you who I am?" he asked.
"Some dead man," the Mountain's guttural voice came out.
"I am Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne," her father said, keeping his sight on the beast. "Princess Elia was my sister."
"Who?"asked Clegane.
Her father didn't answer with words. Instead, he thrust his spear forwards, but the beast dodged it easily, instead heaving his greatsword forward, trying to cut the spear in two. Her father danced around it expertly, jabbing at the Mountain's armor, cutting it.
"Princess Elia Martell of Dorne," her father's voice boomed. "You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children. And today…well today you are a lucky man."
"Did you come here to talk or to fight?"
"I came here to hear you confess," her father replied. "However, it seems plans may have changed."
Suddenly, the Mountain roared and thrust forward with his greatsword. Of course, he missed, and her father managed to take another jab at him.
Nymeria's hand continued holding Quentyn's, her palms sweating while she struggled to keep her composure with every thrust of Clegane's sword. However, her father kept dancing and taunting, and with every taunt, the Mountain grew irritated.
Clegane was losing balance…and he was losing blood. Her father had spotted the weak points in between the gaps, in the armpits and around the waist and knees. The beast was bleeding.
Put him down, father!
But he continued his charade.
"You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children."
Yes, we know. We all know, kill him!
"You do not wish to confess?" her father asked defiantly. "Your partner, the pig-faced Lorch did. He said he killed Rhaenys and you took care of Elia. He even said who asked for you to commit this monstrosity."
Then, suddenly, he thrust his spear at the base of Clegane's right knee.
The beast let out a blood-curdling scream, both his shield and greatsword dropping from his hands. Her father gave him no chance to react, he took out the spear, then thrust in his other knee. The beast had fallen.
A smile started to draw on her features, something that was shared by everyone in the Dornish party…except Quentyn. His was more a face of shock.
"Lorch died screaming. You will too!" Her father shouted, thrusting his spear between the gaps of Clegane's armor, in his arms.
The beast was now but a pathetic writhing mess, and her father had yet to deal the last blow.
"Confess!" her father roared at the top of his head. "Confess and I will let you die!"
The beast roared, trying to get to his greatsword, lunging up at her father. However, he saw it coming and instead shoved his spear right into Clegane's stomach, going right through his mail.
Immediately, her father took Clegane's greatsword, and sliced clean through the Mountain's right leg.
The beast howled in pain, and she was fairly sure that she saw a few ladies faint in the corner of her eye. But not her, she was mesmerized by the morbid spectacle. Everyone on the Dornish balcony was, whether it is with amazement or glee.
"Confess!" her father roared, hacking off Clegane's other leg. "Say her name! Elia of Dorne! You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children!"
The beast's words were but a gargle now, blood was spilling everywhere, and the beast was desperately trying to reach her father with his arms. They made for great targets for the greatsword. The left was taken off at the elbow, and the right didn't cut cleanly. Instead, it was still held up by a combination of bone, tissue and skin between the shoulder and the elbow.
The next strike went for the parts no man would like to have lost. The beast's cries became so loud that she felt that someone might hear him from Sunspear.
By now, everyone in the Dornish party was smiling from ear to ear. Nymeria bore a predatory smile, while Quentyn's was radiant like the sigil on the vest he bore.
Her father, on the other hand, moved away, tossed the greatsword into the ground, and took his spear again. Before he could strike at what Nymeria thought was what was left of his…parts, the beast cried out:
"Stop!"
Her father's spear didn't stop, so the beast's voice became frantic.
"I'll confess!" he cried out, blood spurting out of his mouth with every word.
Her father smiled triumphantly at the limbless man, and his spear just thrust across his chest.
"Let me die!" the beast pleaded, his eyes bloodshot.
"Say her name." Nymeria's father ordered.
"Elia Martell." The beast coughed. "I raped her, then I killed her whelp, and then I killed her."
"Who gave the order?" her father asked, his spear pointing at the beast's neck.
The beast gargled.
"WHO?" her father asked.
"Tywin…Lannister…" he gargled.
"LOUDER!" her father cried out.
"TYWIN LANNISTER!" the beast cried out while spitting blood on her father's armor.
The whole attendance's eyes went towards Tywin, then. Some of them turned their eyes in shock, horror or even, for the Dornish, with blood in their eyes. There were a few cries, including Cersei Lannister, who screeched incoherent words about the trial being a farce and for someone to get her father's head. Stupid arse she is, the former Queen was soon silenced.
"I should let you die in pain like the dog you are," her father growled, while the whole audience stood silent. "You are lucky that I am a man of my word, unlike you, Lannisters."
With a thrust of his spear, he cut open the giant's throat, putting an end to the miserable human that was once Gregor Clegane.
The whole Dornish party erupted in cheers, and she barely heard Tywin Lannister mumbling her father's innocence before the gods. Instead, she immediately relaxed Quentyn's hands, leapt from her seat with him, and kissed him with a fervor she didn't know she possessed until then.
"We've done it!" she laughed, tears running freely while she broke the embrace.
"There remains one more guilty party to bring to justice." Quentyn smiled at her.
Nymeria eagerly nodded.
"You might want to go, with Ellaria, no?" Quentyn asked, seeing Ellaria jubilant at his side. "I think you two have to give some congratulations."
She turned to Ellaria with a smirk, her father's paramour barely containing her joy.
"Don't worry." Quentyn winked. "Enjoy your moment with him and join me in our rooms. When you come back, don't forget to give everyone the signal. Before the hour of the wolf, everyone needs to be at the agreed-upon area."
Nymeria nodded sternly.
"C'mon, love, what are you waiting for?"
Nym hugged him again, and rushed down with Ellaria. When she reached her father, he was covered in Clegane's blood, but she didn't care. He had won. And he had kept his promise.
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