Oberyn could swear that his heart stopped beating and his lungs refused to take any air. He almost lost control of his body when he uncontrollably turned in his seat. He knew that the playful expression he kept was long gone after he heard those four words coming out of the mouth of the accused.
The trial by combat.
For a moment, he thought that his ears failed him, but the reaction of the crowd told him that indeed the Imp requested a trial by combat. People started screaming, stamping, and whistling. Some braver souls even left their seats behind the barriers, trying to get closer to Tyrion. Tywin started screaming for guards to move their asses.
But Oberyn didn't care about it.
His mind went spiraling, and his eyes turned left where Cersei was seated. Her face was full of hatred and pain only a mother who had lost her son could feel, yet there was something else there too. Something that with every second was becoming more and more visible.
A perfect plan of revenge.
He knew what it meant, and he knew what she was going to say before she, in fact, did it.
"I choose Ser Gregor Clegane to be my champion," she declared. It was only a whisper. Quiet like a cold wind striking right in the Prince of Dorne's face.
It was madness. Tyrion went mad, Oberyn was sure. Trial by combat was worse than a public execution in his case. No one sane would stand up in his name against the Mountain, and Tyrion would have to fight in his own name and die from Clegane's murderous hands rather than a clean executioner's axe, as he had no chance. Oberyn believed that no one could compare against the Mountain's strength and reputation.
No one but...?
Taking advantage of the opportunity, Oberyn stood up from his chair and easily walked out of the whole proceeding. No one even noticed as the emotions hadn't subsided yet. He cared little about the Imp and what was going to happen to him at first, but now how the tables have turned.
When he got out, he started walking fast. It always helped him with clearing his mind and making a plan. And he needed to make one right now. Wheels in his brain started working so swiftly he could swear that all around could hear it.
Could he?
Or could he not?
With each step he took, his heart was pounding faster and faster. His hands were wet, and he thanked the gods, if there were any, that he took his favorite spear from Sunspear.
"I know what you are planning to do."
Oberyn almost tripped when he heard a deep, soothing voice behind his back. He was so focused on his own thoughts he didn't even think about someone going after him or the consequences of leaving the trial early. Yet, he didn't feel any fear as he knew exactly who was standing behind his back.
"You do?"
He looked right into the sea-green eyes of Vaenera Greyjoy. The girl had her usual cold expression on her face, but there was something else too. Something like... pain? He shook his head. He surely must have been mistaken.
"I do." She took a few steps to get closer to him. "And that's why I am here to tell you not to do this."
Oberyn smiled. She had always fascinated him. Vaenera Greyjoy reminded him of the sandstorms they often had in Dorne. Beautiful and mysterious when you are watching from a distance, yet dangerous if you find yourself near one.
"And how do you know what I want to do, Princess?"
"You want to volunteer for Tyrion to fight against the Mountain."
YOU ARE READING
The Great War- Oberyn Martell
Fanfiction''This story unlike many others from this world begins not with inflaming fury, not with debt needed to be paid or not even with a winter that was coming. It begins with love that was sowed and had grown and it will end with fire and blood"
