Jaime watched Viserys as he spoke, puzzled by how calm he seemed. Viserys didn't appear the least bit surprised. It was as if... he already knew.
"I know you care deeply about the Targaryen reputation, so much so that you made a pact with Ned Stark to protect it. If you agree to my terms, I will never tell anyone about this." Jaime's voice was flat; he wasn't pleading for himself.
"It seems you've already thought of a way out for yourself. Tell me, who do you want me to spare?"
Jaime hesitated for a moment before answering. "Robert's three children are indeed mine and Cersei's. I hope you will spare Cersei and the children. In addition, I ask that you tell Tyrion something for me. Tell him that Tysha was not a prostitute. I know he's held onto that all these years. If he knows the truth, he should no longer fear death when it comes for him."
Jaime's voice grew hoarse, as if he were an old man on his deathbed making his last request. He did not ask for Tywin's life—Tywin, like the Mountain, was doomed.
"Go to the Wall in black, and I will grant you these terms. I will tell the world of what my father did, and the reasons you had to kill him."
Viserys' response caught Jaime off guard. Jaime had thought his efforts were all to repair the Targaryen image. He never imagined he would be asked to reveal the truth.
Viserys seemed more relaxed. He was tired of fighting to restore the Targaryens to the throne. He didn't have the energy to cover up Aerys' mistakes anymore. Besides, who didn't have a couple of fools in the family? Aerys could serve as an example for future generations. It would be a shame to waste such a perfect "mistake book."
Viserys was more intrigued by what had caused Aerys' madness. "Can you tell me what happened in the last few years of my father's life? From what I've heard, he was quite intelligent in his youth. So why did he become like that? Do you remember anything he said or did when he was alone?"
Jaime considered this. 'Aerys wasn't intelligent at all,' he thought, 'just a man with grand ambitions and little talent.' The Targaryen line had taken a wrong turn ever since Jeyne of Oldstones.
Viserys frowned, clearly suspicious. 'Perhaps someone hexed him,' he mused.
"Well... I remember that King Aerys used to have nightmares toward the end," Jaime said. "His maid mentioned he would wake up drenched in sweat, muttering, 'Burn them. Burn them all.'"
Viserys' expression darkened, as if he could see the shadow of the Greenseer before him. 'That wretched bastard never accomplished a single good deed,' he thought bitterly. 'He only whispered in the ears of others. Aerys must have gone mad because of him. The Greenseer has been after the Targaryens for ages. Did he send Jeyne of Oldstones as well?'
The First Men had driven the Children of the Forest beyond the Wall, but during the Age of Heroes, the Andals arrived and ultimately defeated the First Men. Later, the Andals themselves were conquered by Aegon the Conqueror and his dragons. In this way, the Andals and the First Men came to dominate Westeros. Ironically, the Targaryens, who conquered them, could be seen as taking revenge on behalf of the Children of the Forest, though whether this was true justice was another question altogether.
Is this how one repays a kindness? Viserys Lys wondered, his mind teeming with questions. He felt an urge to travel Beyond the Wall once more, to seek answers. But for now, he had to focus on the affairs of Westeros.
The recent victory at the Battle of Maidenpool had allowed Viserys to secure control over much of the eastern Crownlands, including the castles of Duskendale to the north of King's Landing, as well as Sow's Horn and Antlers. With these fortresses in hand, Viserys paused his offensive. As the saying goes, time is on his side.
After all, not even Aegon the Conqueror's three dragons could melt Harrenhal. There was no need to attack it directly. Viserys' second army, led by Connington, would arrive in a month at most. If Robert still held any hope, he would have to act quickly and attack. Even if Robert began sending troops from Harrenhal immediately, it would take him half a month just to mobilize and prepare.
For now, both sides fell into an eerie silence.
During this pause, the Red Viper arrived at Viserys' camp aboard a warship. News that Viserys had captured the Mountain alive had reached him, and he was so excited he felt like his head might explode.
"Your Grace, we had a deal—I have to kill the Mountain myself!" The Red Viper dismounted hastily, not even pausing as he rode from the docks straight to Viserys' camp. There was no longer the carefree swagger he had when he first met Viserys; his movements were stiff, his tone strained. But the eagerness in his eyes was unmistakable, nearly bursting forth.
"Of course," Viserys replied, observing the intensity in the Viper's gaze. "He's reserved for you. How do you plan to do it?"
"I'll face him head-on! I'll cut off his head with my own hands!" the Red Viper declared.
Of course, Viserys thought. It was a good thing he had been keeping the Mountain alive, feeding him just enough to leave him neither full nor starving, so his strength would have diminished.
"Fine. Just don't let him die too quickly. Rest well today—eat, recover your strength—and in the morning, I'll arrange for your duel with the Mountain."
"Don't worry, I won't kill him right away," the Red Viper said, his voice vibrating with passion. "I'll use all the poisons I've studied over the years on him!"
His determination impressed Viserys. Perhaps I should speak with Meris, the executioner, about this later.
The next morning, the soldiers banged on the large, square iron cage that held the infamous Mountain. The sound startled him awake. He was no longer the brutal warrior everyone feared—now, he looked emaciated, a shadow of his former self. His beard was tangled, his cheekbones jutted out, and his eyes were dull, like those of a dead fish. Bruises from his recent beatings still marked his skin, and at some point, a large section of his shirt had been torn from his body without his notice.
"Oi, get up and eat your pig food!"
The soldiers shoved the remains of their meals into the cage. The Mountain had eaten all manner of filth from it—hair, phlegm, worms, and even bits of rice straw. The soldiers knew he was Viserys' enemy, so they took pleasure in tormenting him at every opportunity.
"Hey, we'll be letting you out soon. Lord Oberyn wants a one-on-one fight." The soldier who delivered the food smirked before walking off.
Once the soldier was far enough away, the Mountain's cruel eyes flickered back to life. The name Oberyn rang in his ears—he knew he wouldn't survive this encounter. But he wasn't one to die without a fight. He turned and dug at the ground, eventually pulling out a small cloth bag he had hidden, torn from the rags of his clothes.
Inside was the food he'd been hoarding for days, a collection of scraps he'd saved to regain his strength. When he opened the sack, a rancid stench filled the air, but the Mountain didn't flinch. He stuffed the rotten contents into his mouth without hesitation. As a child, he and his brother had been trained by their father to find food wherever they could, even in animal waste. This was nothing compared to that.
After finishing the foul meal, he felt his dizzy mind begin to clear, his strength creeping back into his muscles. 'I've killed three Targaryens already. Let's add a Martell to the list,' he thought grimly. The Mountain resolved to take the Red Viper down with him, no matter what.
He leaned against the bars of his cage, closing his eyes as if to rest. He figured the duel wouldn't happen for at least another hour. But just a quarter of an hour later, the soldiers returned and opened the cage. The Mountain briefly considered overpowering them and taking a weapon, but when he saw the giant figure nearby, dressed in a white linen robe, he gave up the idea.
'Just kill the Red Viper,' he muttered to himself.
Escorted by the soldiers, the Mountain feigned weakness as they led him to the arena. It could have been a gladiatorial pit or an execution ground—it made no difference to him.
Across the field, the Red Viper was warming up, his body taut with anticipation. He had already planned nine ways to kill the Mountain, each method crueler than the last. Yet none of them felt satisfying enough to this man, driven by a lifetime of vengeance for his sister.
"Are there any homosexuals among these giants?" the Red Viper asked Viserys with a mischievous smirk.
"Huh? You'd better stop with that. They're all decent giants," Viserys replied, clearly confused by the question. This is not how the power of giants should be used, Red Viper, he thought, shaking his head.
Red Viper, pacing excitedly, soon spotted the Mountain being escorted to the arena, his steps unsteady. It was obvious to anyone watching that the Mountain was suffering from a lack of food.
There wasn't much entertainment in the camp, especially for the mercenaries from the old Golden Company, whose thoughts seemed consumed by battle and wandering. Hearing there would be a spectacle, they gathered with eager anticipation, one of them even lighting a cigarette.
The Mountain, was handed his usual massive sword, while the Red Viper stood waiting with his spear in hand, poised and ready. The two faced each other, and the difference between them was striking—Red Viper's lithe, agile form barely came up to the Mountain's chest.
"Gregor, do you remember Elia?" the Red Viper spat, eyes blazing with fury. "You defiled her. You killed her child. Today, I will sacrifice your blood for them!"
The Mountain, with his disheveled hair falling over his forehead and obscuring his eyes, said nothing. He simply raised his heavy sword, preparing to strike. Red Viper, enraged by his silence, felt his anger flare even hotter. What are you, a rapist, trying to act tough now?
With a flourish of his spear, Red Viper feinted and launched his first attack with lightning speed. Despite the Mountain's imposing size, Red Viper danced around him with ease, dodging each of his lumbering strikes. To the onlookers, he seemed like a nimble monkey taunting a wild boar. He darted in and out, slashing at the Mountain with precise, almost mocking, thrusts. Blood soon dripped from several wounds on the Mountain's body, staining his already filthy clothes a darker red.
The Mountain began to realize that Red Viper wasn't trying to finish the fight quickly—he was torturing him. Abandoning any attempts at defense, the Mountain focused all his energy on offense, swinging wildly with brute strength.
After dozens of exchanges, the Mountain started to feign exhaustion. He staggered, swaying like a drunkard, making it seem as though he could collapse at any moment. Sensing an opening, the Red Viper lunged and drove his spear into the Mountain's left knee.
The Mountain let out a pained roar and fell to his knees.
"Yes!" The soldiers around the arena cheered, thrilled at the sight of the Red Viper bringing down the massive warrior. Despite the Mountain's weakened state, the visual impact of seeing him defeated by someone so much smaller was undeniable.
"You vile bastard! Filthy wretch! Despicable son of a bitch!" the Red Viper shouted, his voice trembling with fury. "How dare you touch Elia? I wish I could kill you a thousand times over!"
With a furious roar, the Red Viper swung his spear and smashed it into the Mountain's face. The force of the blow sent the Mountain crashing to the ground, his body lying limp and helpless.
"Stand up, you piece of trash! Stand up!" Red Viper shouted angrily, pacing around the Mountain's fallen form. Despite his chest heaving like a bellows, his strength felt endless, fueled by the unrelenting fire of his hatred.
He cursed and circled the Mountain like a predator, his rage growing with every step. It's so close! So close! Viserys, watching from a distance, felt a twinge of unease. Everyone's attention was fixed on the duel, and sensing a shift in the atmosphere, Viserys quietly rose and moved closer, keeping a wary eye on the scene.
Red Viper suddenly halted near the Mountain's right leg. He glanced up at the sky and saw a cloud shaped uncannily like Elia's face. For a brief moment, he was lost in his thoughts, his rage momentarily giving way to memory.
At that exact moment, the Mountain struck.
With brutal speed, he kicked Red Viper hard in the ankle. The blow caught him completely off guard, and he lost his balance, crashing to the ground. A shocked cry erupted from the soldiers watching, but it was too late. The Mountain, like a wall of flesh, threw himself onto Red Viper, pressing down with all his weight. His thick thumb sought the Viper's eye socket, aiming to crush it.
But just as the Mountain was about to apply more pressure, he felt a sudden, immense force strike his waist.
Crack.
A dull, sickening sound echoed through the arena. The Mountain's eyes widened in disbelief—his back was broken. Dizzy and disoriented, he collapsed to the ground, unable to continue his attack.
Though the Mountain hadn't blinded him, Red Viper still felt the sting of near defeat. Did I flip him over? he thought, dazed. When his senses returned, he realized he had been saved by Viserys, standing above him with an unreadable expression. Red Viper's face flushed with embarrassment. If he had died at the hands of the Mountain, it would've been a humiliation he could never live down.
"I'll make a cloak and boots out of his skin," Red Viper growled angrily, his voice seething with frustration and a renewed thirst for vengeance. Hmph, he thought, his anger still simmering beneath the surface. That's very fitting.