The duels were held in a small arena in the Red Keep. When Robb and Margaery entered, they expected to find a crowd thick with commoners and nobles alike, but it was mainly sellswords and courtiers. It was then that Robb realized that the Targaryens didn't want to make the duels a spectacle, which made sense. They saw Lorch and Clegane as no more than thugs and deserved no fame for their deaths.
Robb was escorted through the castle by Unsullied, but had his own retainers following him as well. Brienne, of course, was with him. As was Garlan, Loras, and Loras' squire. The fifth and final member was a surprise that Robb had pulled on them all.
Sandor Clegane was taller than Brienne of Tarth, which was not the scariest fact about the man. Garbed in plain, soot-black armor with a longsword at his side, it was his face that drew all the attention. His long, greasy black hair did little to cover the gruesome burn scars that spread down his neck. He, like his brother, had an aura of them that they were willing to kill anyone that annoyed them.
Robb had asked the Hound to join his personal guard, offering to pay the man as well as make sure he is fed well and given all the wine and ale he wants. Surprisingly, that was all the man wanted and needed. He said that he would fight for Robb, but also because the 'little bird', his name for Sansa, asked him to.
Robb had brought the man, against Brienne's objections, because the Hound would kill his brother if the Red Viper failed to.
"My lord." Daenerys greeted, she and Aegon getting up from their seats.
The seating had been set on a balcony overlooking the area. One side of the area were the Targaryen councilors, with Prince Doran Martell sitting to the immediate left of the king and queen. Group of empty chairs was obviously meant for the Starks and their retinue.
"My lady." Robb said, returning the greeting.
"Ser Loras," Daenerys said, looking past the Starks at the young knight. "Grey Worm shall bring you to the arena."
Loras nodded and followed the Unsullied, his squire right behind him. The Knight of Flowers wore his usual ornate silver armor, a green cloak bearing the golden rose of House Tyrell flowing out from behind him. Before he left, Robb noticed that he had a piece of golden silk tied around his sword hand.
Robb helped Margaery into her seat before looking into the arena. Amory Lorch was already on one end of the arena, armored in steel-plate and wielding a broadsword. His shield depicted a mythical looking creature that Robb couldn't place. He didn't look intimidating, but he certainly looked ready for a fight.
"I hope your man is good, Stark." Aegon said, skipping over any form of greeting.
"Watch and find out, my lord." Robb responded.
The duel started with an old man, garbed in a roughspun tunic, walking to the middle of the arena. By the way he held himself, Robb knew that the man commanded some sort of power, but he was curious what sort of man would choose to dress in nothing but a woolen tunic. He wasn't even wearing boots or sandals!
"That is the High Septon." Daenerys muttered. "Or the High Sparrow, as he calls himself."
"Bloody fanatic." Aegon added, nodding to the man.
The High Septon blessed the duel in the eyes of the Seven before bowing to the royal couples and returning to the crowd, where he was surrounded by no less than a dozen men, all dressed in a similar fashion with shaven heads and odd scars on their heads.
"Amory Lorch, you stand accused of murder and rape." Connington called, his voice carrying clearly over the arena. "Ser Loras Tyrell has been chosen by the Crown as its champion. This is a fight to the death unless the accuser relents their claim or the defendant admits to committing the crime. Do you understand?"
Lorch nodded, shutting the visor on his helm.
"Let the duel begin." Connington ordered, taking his seat.
Robb leaned forward, feeling Margaery's hand hold his hand tightly as the two warriors walked towards each other. Loras was spinning his blade, loosening his wrist and shoulder. The motion looked effortless and it was a subtle show of his speed and comfort level.
Lorch didn't seem to care, rushing the Knight of Flowers like a boar chasing a hunter. He flung his shield forward, trying to shoulder charge his opponent before bringing his sword down at a vicious arc. It was a good tactic. He was attempting to stun his opponent before following with an attack. It was an attack that would have caught the young and inexperienced off guard. Loras was young, but he was far from inexperienced. The Knight of Flowers side-stepped the charge, parrying the blade as it came down. Now it was Loras's turn to go on the offensive.
His blade flashed down one, two, three times of Lorch's shield, chipping away the paint and wood. Each attack was lightning fast and dealt with authority and power. Lorch slowly retreated under the onslaught before stepping further away, distancing himself from the other man.
Robb had expected Loras to talk while he spoke, or do something that others would call foolish or prideful. Instead, the young knight was fighting with an immense amount of control and calmness. It was truly magnificent to see and Robb could see that he was in for a real fight. The youth of the man he fought meant nothing.
Lorch attacked again, his bellow muffled under his helm. Once again, Loras parried the attack, moving away from the man's charge as he did. It was almost effortless the way he moved and fought.
When Loras attacked, he didn't allow Lorch any respite. His blade was a flash of silver that Lorch looked unable to keep up with. Robb saw at least three strikes that landed on Lorch's armor, hurting the man, but were not fatal. Whenever Lorch tried to counter attack, it was ruthlessly put down by Loras before he continued his relentless offensive to where he was basically driving Lorch around the arena like a mother disciplining her child.
That's when Lorch got desperate. He dropped his sword and shield, diving wildly at Loras. The two men went down in a clatter of armor and a cloud of dust. Robb and Margaery both stood, wanting to see what was happening. Margaery was squeezing Robb's hand so hard that her nails were threatening to draw blood.
Lorch was on top of Loras, his helm having been knocked off in the attack, but many could see the victorious snarl on his face as he drew his dagger, opening Loras's visor.
"I got you now!" he snarled.
Loras didn't answer. One arm was pinned down by Lorch's hand while the other was scrambling awkwardly for something. Slowly, Lorch brought his dagger back, preparing the final strike when Loras's own dagger shot forward, taking the man in the eye.
Lorch bellowed in pain, both hands flying to his face, but Loras wasn't done. He grabbed Lorch's dagger and stabbed it into the man's neck.
Lorch slowly went limp before falling to the side, allowing Loras to scramble to his feet. Blood poured out of the man's eye, neck, and mouth, but his body was now still as his last remaining life left him.
Loras removed his helm and turned back to the royal box, bowing deeply. Margaery had tears in her eyes as she clapped, a brilliant smile plastered to her face. Robb had a similar smile, applauding the victorious knight. '
"The Gods have made their will known." Connington shouted, his voice still carrying over the cheering crowd. "Ser Loras Tyrell is victorious!"
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Despite the brace of wood and metal around his knee, Gregor Clegane still managed to look terrifying. Clad from head to toe and the thickest armor Robb had ever seen, he held his greatsword point down in one hand while the other held his ridiculously large shield. The man didn't even seem real.
Prince Oberyn Martell looked criminally underprepared to fight the man. He was garbed in bronze scale armor and leather along with flowing silks and Robb saw no sign of a helm or head protection. His squire was busy polishing the man's spear, which was not like most spears Robb had ever seen. The blade was at least a foot in length, shape with a wave-like pattern along its length.
The prince himself was sipping from a chalice as he spoke with his paramour and bastard daughters, all of whom looked rightfully worried. Prince Oberyn, on the other hand, had a smile on his face and looked as relaxed as a cat in the sun. The giant behind him seemed to cause him little worry.
"Gregor Clegane." Connington said. "You have been charged with murder and rape. This battle will be to the death unless the accuser relents or the defendant admits his guilt. Is that understood?"
The Mountain didn't move at all. After a long moment, Connington repeated the question.
"Is that understood!" he snapped.
Slowly, the giant nodded.
"Let the battle begin." Connington called.
Oberyn blew a kiss to his children and lover as he strode into the arena, catching his spear as he did. As soon as the weapon was in his hands, he spun it with amazing ease, the sun catching on the metal head many times. It was an impressive showing from the dornishman.
"Do you know who I am?" Oberyn asked, a brilliant smile on his face.
The Mountain didn't answer, simply moving towards the dornish warrior. Oberyn's spear shot at the giant's face, a strike that was deflected by the Mountain's shield. Oberyn laughed, spinning away before his opponent had a chance to attack.
"I asked you a question."
"Some dead man." the Mountain finally answered, still following Oberyn.
"I am Oberyn Martell, Prince of Dorne." Oberyn declared.
"Stupid cunt is playing with him." Sandor grumbled.
Robb couldn't help but agree. Loras had been deadly calm while fighting Amory Lorch. Against a man who was ten times deadlier, Oberyn Martelly seemed almost annoyingly careless. Though his armor and arms now made sense. He would have been mad to fight the Mountain with strength. With his armor, he had the advantage of speed and agility, his only hope against a man like Clegane. His spear also allowed him to attack with getting close.
"You were there that night." Oberyn continued, his smile turning to a snarl. "You were there the night my sister died."
"Shut up!" Clegane growled, his sword smashing the ground where Oberyn had been just a moment ago.
"Oh, not until you confess." Oberyn hissed, his spear shooting towards the man's massive chest. Once again, his attack was deflected by the Mountain's shield, the head of the spear breaking off paint and wood. "Admit it! You raped her! You murdered her! Say her name!"
The Mountain roared and charged the dornish prince, who seemed to have been caught off guard by the action. He stumbled back, just barely avoiding the sweeping greatsword that Clegane wielded with amazing strength and speed. Oberyn was able to scramble away, but his spear had been shattered by the Mountain in the process.
Oberyn caught his spare spear, returning to his confident stride. "You will not die till you say her name! Elia Martell!"
"Shut up!" the Mountain roared.
Oberyn was done playing now. He seemed to dance around his opponent, his spear, whenever it wasn't caught by the Mountain's shield, bounced off of the man's armor. Finally, after a few minutes of fighting, Oberyn's spear found a chink in the giant's armor just under the man's arm. His spear darted in and out, and Robb could just hear the infamous knight curse under his helm before resuming his attack.
"You raped her! You murdered her!" Oberyn shouted madly. "Say her name!"
The Mountain grunted and swung at the elusive warrior, but Oberyn slid under the attack, twisting around once he was behind the man. His spear sliced into the Mountain's leg, severing muscle and probably was close to bone. Whatever was hit, it destroyed the Mountain's ability to walk as he fell to both knees.
Oberyn strode confidently in front of the man, spinning the spear in his hands. "Say. Her. Name."
The Mountain didn't respond. Oberyn leveled his spear and charged the man, but even on his knees, the Mountain was far from defenseless. He brought his shield up just in the nick to time, absorbing the blow as Oberyn broke his second spear.
The dornishman staggered away, just missing being cut in two by the Mountain's greatsword. Now Oberyn was without a weapon and the Mountain had yet to be defeated.
"For fuck's sake." Sandor grunted, walking up to the edge of the balcony, unbuckling his belt as he did so. "Finish the fucking job!"
Oberyn caught the sword, drawing it in one motion. He and the Hound locked eyes, an unspoken message going between the two warriors.
"Say her name." Oberyn demanded, holding the sword with two hands.
The Mountain dropped his shield and ripped off his helm. His fat head was red and dripping with sweat. His eyes looked slightly bloodshot and there was a tinge of blueness to his lips.
"Elia Martell." the Mountain gritted out, spitting at Oberyn's boots as he said the name. "I raped her bloody before smashing her fucking head in!"
He swung his monstrous sword once more, but it was no use. Oberyn avoided the attack before bringing his new sword down on the Mountain's wrist, lopping off the man's hand.
As Oberyn strode up to him, the Mountain lunged at him, but Oberyn lopped off that hand too, a viscous smile on his face.
"Too slow, big man." Oberyn chuckled before taking the Mountain's head.
It took the crowd only a moment before the crowd erupted into thunderous applause. Aegon and Daenerys were on their feet, as were Robb and Margaery. Oberyn didn't seem to notice the praise as he kicked the body over. He admired his kill for a few moments before walking back to his daughters and lover, not looking back for an instant.
Line Break
"Thank you for the help." Oberyn said, handing Sandor back his sword.
"Don't fuck around next time." Sandor huffed, snatching his belt back.
Oberyn smiled lightly and returned to his place behind Aegon and Daenerys. The two parties were in the courtyard with the Starks preparing to head back to their camp. For once, Aegon wasn't being arrogant or rude. He smiled and was showing excellent manners and politeness.
"You fought well, Ser Loras." Aegon praised. "Thank you for bringing justice to my family."
"Of course, my lord." Loras said with a half bow.
"Are you do soon, my lady?" Daenerys asked curiously.
Margaery rubbed her belly. "The maesters think so. I can hardly wait."
"Children are a blessing." Daenerys said, a slight sadness in her voice. "Thank you for your help with the trial, my lord."
Robb nodded. "As I said, my lady, there were certain formalities that had to be done. I hate them as much as you, but it is what is expected from those in power."
"Truer words never spoken." Aegon laughed.
Margaery suddenly clutched Robb's arm, bending at the waist as her face contorted in pain.
"Margaery!" Robb cried, dropping to his knee.
"We need to get back to camp." Margaery grunted quietly.
Robb nodded and motioned Garlan over. With both he and Robb helping, Margaery began to shuffle over to her carriage.
"For fuck's sake." Clegane growled, sweeping the Tyrell queen up in one motion and carrying her over to her carriage, helping her inside with surprising gentleness. When the queen was inside, Clegane looked at the men. "Let's go!"
Robb looked at Garlan, who looked too shocked to say anything.
"Get her back to camp." Robb ordered his good brother. "I will catch up in a moment.
Garlan nodded and ran to his horse, hauling himself into the saddle before calling orders to the others to form up on the carriage. In a matter of moments, the carriage and Robb's retinue of warriors were making their way through the streets. Only Brienne remained, holding Robb's mount.
"It seems that my wife is do now." Robb said a little apologetically. "Why don't we meet in a week's time to finish up the final details of the alliance?"
"A week's time." Daenerys agreed immediately.
Robb nodded to them both before walking over to his horse. As soon as he was in the saddle, he and Brienne were galloping out of the courtyard and down the street after the others. It seems Robb was about to be a father.