"Say it! Was it him? You people wouldn't even spare nursing infants—what exactly are you afraid of? Afraid that the true dragon will return to take revenge on you? Well now your retribution is coming. Don't even think Dorne will point scorpions at dragons again this time!"
Oberyn pointed angrily at Tywin as he continued cursing, as though he intended to vent all the rage he had suppressed for years.
Varys looked at the Mountain lying on the ground, still not yet dead, and felt even more anxious than Tyrion. He finally understood the meaning behind the mysterious person's letter.
Varys wanted to warn Oberyn to be careful, but Oberyn was in the middle of his furious outburst and never once looked his way. Worrying was useless.
Thud!
Just as Oberyn approached the Mountain, the giant suddenly lashed out and struck Oberyn's lower leg, tripping him to the ground. Then he grabbed the front of Oberyn's armor and tried to lift him up.
The instant he fell, Oberyn suddenly remembered Varys's warning.
He immediately pulled the dagger strapped to his thigh and viciously stabbed toward the Mountain's face.
The Mountain had just begun raising an arm when pain exploded across his face. Before he could react, the dagger plunged deep into one of his eyes, and his half-raised arm froze in place.
Feeling the monstrous strength in the Mountain's grip and the agonizing pain where he was being held, Oberyn no longer dared toy with him.
He stabbed again and again until the Mountain finally released him. Only then did Oberyn stop wildly thrusting the dagger.
Sensing that the Mountain beside him had finally gone still, Oberyn sat up from the ground.
Looking at the huge holes covering the Mountain's face, he knew the man was dead beyond any doubt.
Having narrowly escaped death, Oberyn instinctively unfastened the light armor on his chest.
A palm-sized chunk of flesh had been crushed and wrinkled grotesquely where the Mountain had grabbed him. The sheer power of the giant's grip was terrifying.
Had he reacted even a moment slower, a single blow from the Mountain would have guaranteed his death.
He couldn't help glancing toward Varys among the gathered nobles.
If Varys hadn't warned him, he wouldn't have prepared two daggers at his side. He wouldn't have reacted quickly enough to stab the Mountain.
He would have died just like his sister Elia—killed by the Mountain himself, never getting his revenge.
Seeing the Mountain truly dead, Tyrion stepped forward to thank Oberyn.
But before he could even take two steps, someone rushed past him and tightly embraced Oberyn.
The scene earlier had terrified Ellaria. She had thought she was about to witness Oberyn die horribly.
She knew no one who fought the Mountain ever ended well. The Mountain's greatest pleasure was torturing and slaughtering his opponents.
Ellaria had never imagined Oberyn could turn the fight around after being knocked down.
Watching Oberyn's narrow victory, Jaime smiled as he walked over and patted Tyrion on the shoulder.
"Hmph!"
Seeing the Mountain's corpse lying motionless, Cersei shot Tyrion and Oberyn a vicious glare before lifting her skirts and leaving the arena.
Tywin slowly rose from his seat and formally declared Oberyn the victor and Tyrion innocent.
Then he coldly glanced once at Oberyn standing with his paramour before leaving as well.
The gathered nobles had never expected the Mountain—the greatest fighter in King's Landing—to lose.
Some looked warily toward Tyrion before hurriedly departing. None of them had expected Tyrion to have a chance at survival.
As the arena gradually emptied, Tyrion finally approached Oberyn and formally thanked him.
"You saw it yourself. I almost got killed too," Oberyn said, glancing at the long trail of blood left behind after the Mountain's corpse had been dragged away.
Even now, lingering fear remained in his heart.
The one being dragged away could easily have been him instead.
Knowing the Mountain's love for brutal torture, Oberyn couldn't bear imagining what his own corpse would have looked like.
Ellaria, who had only just let go of Oberyn moments earlier, saw the expression on his face and embraced him again, kissing his cheek in comfort.
At that moment Tyrion stepped forward solemnly.
"I'll remember this debt forever."
He bowed deeply after speaking.
"You should thank Varys, not me. Frankly, I should thank him too."
Even though he truly had saved Tyrion, Oberyn didn't want to claim all the credit.
"Varys?"
Tyrion hadn't expected Varys to be involved—the same Varys who had testified during the trial that Tyrion was too close to House Stark.
Nestled against Oberyn, Ellaria also looked at him in surprise. Oberyn had never once mentioned Varys helping him.
"On my way to the dungeon to find you, Varys stopped me and warned me to stay away from the Mountain during the duel. Otherwise I'd die from carelessness."
Even now, recalling last night's events filled Oberyn with relief.
"So that's why you strapped daggers to both legs?" Ellaria asked, finally understanding his strange behavior earlier that morning.
"I knew exactly what would happen if the Mountain got close to me, so I had to prepare extra precautions. I never expected I'd actually need them.
"If my reactions had been even slightly slower, everything splattered across the ground would've been my blood and brains instead of the Mountain's."
Oberyn glanced fearfully at the still-wet bloodstains on the ground.
"But how could Varys predict how your fight with the Mountain would unfold?" Tyrion asked, puzzled.
"I don't understand it either. Even after his warning, I still never imagined it would happen like that.
"But when he warned me last night, he said he was only passing along someone else's advice. The person who foresaw my possible death wasn't him."
After Oberyn finished speaking, Tyrion gradually fell into deep thought.
He couldn't understand how someone could know in advance he would choose trial by combat—that decision had only been made on impulse.
Not only that, they had even predicted Oberyn might grow careless and get killed.
Could it be her?
Suddenly Tyrion remembered Varys urging him to leave King's Landing and pledge himself to Daenerys Targaryen, the Mother of Dragons.
Last night Varys had also said he was merely relaying someone else's warning to Oberyn.
Since Varys wanted him to serve the Dragon Queen, he must secretly be working for her.
It had to be her.
Tyrion became certain of it.
"So you know who sent Varys?" Oberyn asked after noticing Tyrion's expression.
"I only have a guess. I'm not certain. I'll need to ask him myself."
Tyrion answered honestly. There was no reason to hide it from Oberyn.
"Once you find out, don't forget to tell me."
Oberyn clearly distinguished gratitude from grudges. Once he learned who had warned him, he wanted to thank them personally before feeling at ease.
"I will."
After parting ways with Oberyn, Tyrion returned to his residence.
The enormous courtyard felt empty and deserted.
Sansa had fled King's Landing.
Shae was nowhere to be found.
The servants had all run away long ago.
Only he remained.
Taking a bottle of wine from the cabinet, he poured himself a cup and took a slow sip.
He hadn't expected to ever taste wine again.
After two cups, he stopped drinking.
There would be plenty of opportunities to enjoy wine in the future.
Right now, he had something else to do.
Leaving the residence, he wandered through nearby alleys for a while to ensure nobody was following him before heading directly toward the eastern residential district.
After passing through two filthy streets, he stopped in front of a small courtyard shaded by several large trees.
He knocked twice in a rhythmic pattern.
Soon, he heard a door open inside the courtyard.
The gate cracked open slightly, and Varys's shiny bald head poked out.
-----------------------
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