The method Jaime proposed was the same one that had saved Eddard's life when he was condemned for treason, and Tyrion refused to meet the same fate.
Cersei's words had just completely closed off the path through Tywin. Tyrion wondered what it felt like for Tywin to have lost an uncontrollable grandson and now have a disobedient daughter.
Meeting Cersei's resentful gaze, and seeing Jaime's helplessness and his father's eyes that looked at him as if he were already dead, Tyrion knew there was no chance of survival today.
"Do you confess your crimes?" Tywin demanded.
Tyrion swept his gaze over the judges seated on the high platform, the nobles including Cersei, and the young King Tommen, who was quietly observing the proceedings from the second-floor gallery.
The Tommen who had once clamored for stories of the Seven Kingdoms and laughed at his jokes now quickly averted his eyes when their gazes met, as if trying to flee from him.
Below the platform, the nobles began chanting, "Death to the Kingslayer! Off with his head!"
Staring at the nobles he had once saved, who now clamored for his death, Tyrion's long-simmering resentment toward his father and sister, and his fury at the ingratitude of those he had rescued, finally erupted.
"I am guilty," Tyrion roared, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Guilty of being born into House Lannister! Guilty of being a dwarf! Guilty of saving you ungrateful wretches! I deny murdering Joffrey, but I wish I had killed that monstrous little pervert. Not only him—I wish I had killed you all! To kill you, I would gladly descend into the seven hells!"
"Kill him! Kill him!" The nobles in the audience rose to their feet, their voices rising in a chorus of curses after hearing Tyrion's venomous, curse-laden words.
Seeing the hypocritical nobles whipped into a frenzy, Tyrion sneered. He fixed his gaze on his father, Tywin, and declared, "I demand a Trial by Combat!"
The hall fell silent. Trial by Combat was an ancient Westerosi method of resolving disputes.
When a defendant could not effectively defend themselves against their accusers, they could request a Trial by Combat to prove their innocence. The combatants could be the plaintiff and defendant themselves, or they could appoint champions to fight in their stead.
While the presiding judge could deny such a request, it was rarely done.
The Trial by Combat was hailed as the judgment of the Gods. If the judge rejected the defendant's request, the public would deem the verdict unjust and fraudulent, making it impossible for the ruling to gain acceptance.
Tywin hadn't expected Tyrion to resort to such a method to save his life. Glancing at the noble families present who were watching him intently, Tywin nodded. "As the judge, I grant your request."
Cersei had been about to rise in protest when she first heard Tyrion's demand, but she seemed to have second thoughts and quietly settled back into her seat, a playful expression on her face.
Varys hadn't anticipated that the trial would turn into a Trial by Combat. He had planned to spirit Tyrion away before his execution if he was convicted, but he never expected him to demand this method.
Jaime's brow furrowed with worry as he glanced at the assembled nobles. Cersei, who had been about to object, suddenly calmed down. Some nobles lowered their heads in thought, while others remained detached, waiting to watch the spectacle unfold.
When Varys noticed Prince Oberyn of Dorne's thoughtful expression, his heart skipped a beat. Suddenly struck by a realization, he turned to glance at Cersei. *Could the mysterious man's words about Oberyn be coming true here?*
If this were true, the mysterious informant wouldn't just have extensive connections—they'd possess foresight! How else could they have known Tyrion would demand a Trial by Combat? And how could they have predicted that Oberyn, who harbored such hatred for House Lannister, would step forward to fight in Tyrion's stead?
Varys had been having his Little Birds in King's Landing keep a close watch on Oberyn's movements, instructing them to immediately report any sign that he planned to confront The Mountain.
He soon discovered that Oberyn spent nearly every day visiting brothels with his mistress. He had also met with Tyrion, who was then Master of Coin and envoy. Tywin had also sought him out for some unknown reason.
Apart from these observations, there was no indication that Oberyn intended to challenge The Mountain. Varys temporarily set aside the notes he had received from Drogon concerning Oberyn.
Varys hadn't anticipated that their meeting would take place during the Trial by Combat. *I should have passed the mysterious informant's information to Oberyn sooner,* he thought.
He glanced at Oberyn, who was rising from the judgment seat, and also rose from his seat.
***
In the dungeon, Tyrion felt a sudden sense of foreboding as he watched Jaime enter with a grim expression.
"Bronn refuses to fight for me?" he asked urgently.
Bronn had once represented Tyrion in the Trial by Combat at Eyrie, defeating the knights of the Vale and saving Tyrion from Catelyn Stark.
The main reason Tyrion had chosen the Trial by Combat was Bronn. The mercenary valued money above all else, but his martial skills were exceptional. Tyrion had trusted that Bronn could once again save his life.
"Cersei has promised Bronn a noble lady and a fine castle to inherit. He won't fight for you again."
Tyrion's face fell instantly. With a knight's title and a castle to inherit, why would Bronn risk his life for him?
"If Bronn won't fight, I'll fight myself. Cersei and Father must be eager to see The Mountain tear a dwarf apart," Tyrion said with a bitter laugh.
"I'll find a way to get you out," Jaime insisted, unwilling to abandon his brother.
"How? Kill the guards and storm the docks? Cersei has undoubtedly posted spies to watch you. Any move you make, and she'll arrest you too." Tyrion had no hope left for Jaime.
"I can't just stand by and watch you die," Jaime said, his eyes moistening.
"What choice do I have? I'm a dwarf born into House Lannister!" Tyrion's heart ached as well.
"Take care of yourself!" Jaime said, unable to bear watching Tyrion die while he stood helpless.
Tyrion extended his left hand. Jaime stopped, clasped Tyrion's small palm, tightened his grip, and then pressed it against Tyrion's golden right hand. He turned and left the cell.
After Jaime was gone, Tyrion sat slumped on the hay, his eyes vacant as he stared through the narrow cell window. He hadn't imagined he would ever fall this low.
He recalled the glory days when he was Hand of the King, when he stood atop the walls of King's Landing, passionately rallying the defending soldiers, and they had all shouted "Long live the half-man!" He remembered nearly being split in two during the Trial by Combat, the terror of facing certain death.
Now, they were all leaving him. Bronn the sellsword had betrayed him for coin. Sansa was gone too, and he wondered if she would worry about her scapegoat of a husband.
Had Shae made it safely back to Pentos? Judging by Varys's comments during the trial, he didn't hold much hope.
Only Jaime cared about him in the whole world, and now even Jaime had given up on him.
Outside the dungeon, the sky had grown completely dark. Only a few noble houses showed faint, yellow candlelight. A tall, gaunt figure carrying a torch strode through the sewage-filled alleyways.
"Lord Oberyn, I've been waiting for you!" As Oberyn rounded the corner, a broad figure suddenly appeared before him. He raised his torch to get a better look, and a gleaming, bald head reflected the light.
-----------------------
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(End of Chapter)