The Mountain of Ice and Fire

King's Landing. Maegor's Holdfast.

“Is the Prince better?” Tyrion asked Ellaria Sand, looking up.

“Little Imp? Come in!” Oberyn’s voice said.

Tyrion entered. In the room stood a very tall man with his back to him, in a state of newborn innocence, his body well-muscled and his skin fair. Three sword scars ran across his broad back, the marks shocking to the eye.

“Prince, your scars look fascinating,” Tyrion said.

Oberyn turned around. His chest, ribs, abdomen, and legs were covered with long and short scars, some of them still faintly pink, the tender flesh having healed not long ago.

Tyrion stared at the parts he shouldn't: “Prince, you are a true man.”

“Care for a drink? Lord Hand!”

“Uh!” Tyrion touched his false nose tip, thankful for Qyburn’s superb medical skills. “Prince, I think you should put on some clothes first.”

“You can strip naked too, free as a bird.” Oberyn smiled, but not really. The sword scar on his chest was very long, cutting from his left breast all the way to his right rib. Tyrion wondered how he had survived that.

The scars on his shoulder were circular. Tyrion guessed they were arrow wounds. The muscles around the scars were twisted and black.

This was a perfect physique, perfectly contoured, powerfully muscled, a charming body covered in scars. Any woman with a personality would be captivated by it, he believed.

Oberyn walked to the window with a wine glass in his hand, displaying his wildness and primal nature to the world.

“Prince, you seem to be recovering well,” Tyrion said.

Faced with such newborn perfection, Tyrion felt slightly awkward, perhaps dissatisfied with his own pair of 'long legs'.

“I want to hear some news about the Mountain,” Oberyn said, gesturing for Tyrion to pour himself a drink.

Tyrion waddled over. Just as he climbed onto the high stool, a hand reached over his head, took a glass, and poured him half a cup of wine.

“Thank you, my lady!” Tyrion bowed slightly to Ellaria Sand and reached out to take the glass.

Ellaria Sand was slender, with dark skin and delicate features, a beauty in the eyes of the Dornish.

But Tyrion preferred slender women with fair skin.

Ellaria poured herself a glass as well. She raised her glass to Tyrion, took a small sip to moisten her lips.

Tyrion was an expert in women and fine wines. He tasted a little: “This isn’t Arbor wine.”

“Indeed, Lord Hand. This wine comes from Qarth in the distant East,” Ellaria replied.

“Good wine!”

“Lord Hand, where is the Mountain now?” Ellaria asked for Oberyn for the second time.

“In the Riverlands, on the River Road back to the Westerlands.”

“Returning to the Westerlands? Isn’t his fief on Dragonstone?”

“Yes. But the late King Robert granted him Castamere and Tarbeck Hall. He then sought King Joffrey’s confirmation of the decree. King Joffrey, upholding the late King’s will, acknowledged that these two desolate lands belonged to the Mountain.”

Oberyn, standing by the window, and Ellaria, by the wine cabinet, both looked at Tyrion in surprise.

Tyrion shrugged: “Don’t look at me like that. The King made the decision himself, and not recently. It was after the Mountain defeated my father in the battle for the city.”

“Didn’t your nephew consult with you?”

“He doesn’t need to consult anyone as long as he’s happy. He’s the King. Besides, the boy sees his father as a hero. He looks down on the Lannisters.” Tyrion finished his wine, feeling the taste change, becoming bland with a hint of bitterness!

“Why would King Robert suddenly grant the Mountain two lands? Did Lord Tywin agree at the time?” Ellaria was puzzled.

“Lady Jeyne discovered a way to disinfect tainted milk, making all the suspicious milk in King’s Landing safe to drink. King Robert was so pleased that he granted Castamere and Tarbeck Hall to the Mountain and made him a Lord. Of course, he didn’t get my father’s approval. It was just the King’s twisted sense of humor. He did it on purpose, hoping to disgust my father. He believed that as long as my father didn’t agree, the Mountain wouldn’t actually get those two lands.”

“The Mountain can’t actually get those two lands now, either, unless the heir to Casterly Rock agrees! So, who is the Lord of Casterly Rock now?”

Tyrion shrugged: “According to the law, after my father went to see the Seven, Jaime should inherit Casterly Rock and the title of Lord, but he’s been gloriously held captive by the Northmen. Rumor has it that he was freed not long ago and went to the Wall to become a member of the Night’s Watch.”

“Then you are the heir,” Oberyn laughed. He put his arm around Ellaria’s slender waist as she walked to his side, making an inappropriate gesture.

Tyrion swallowed, watching. He sat on the high stool, watching Oberyn and Ellaria’s performance: “I consider myself the heir to Casterly Rock, but my sister and my uncle don’t think so.” Tyrion shrugged. “My sister thinks she should inherit Casterly Rock, and my uncle thinks he should inherit Casterly Rock. They both also think Casterly Rock should go to Jaime, because the rumors about Jaime may not be true. But no one thinks I have the right to inherit.”

“Haha, the Lannisters are very interesting,” Oberyn praised.

“So, Lord Hand, the Mountain has three lands in the Westerlands,” Ellaria stopped Oberyn from going further. After all, she was still a little wary of the Lord Hand being there. Oberyn was crossing the line. She looked at Tyrion, “Crag Village, Castamere, and Tarbeck Hall all belong to the Mountain now?”

“As it stands, yes, my lady!”

“With land but no people, is he planning to grow grass and graze on these three lands?” Oberyn laughed.

“The Mountain has new subjects.” The Lord Hand couldn’t laugh. “He always finds a way to solve the problems we think are unsolvable.”

“He robbed other people of their subjects and brought them to his land?” Oberyn continued to laugh. “That fits his bandit style. But will the lords of the Westerlands let him bully them like that?”

“The Vale, the Mountains of the Moon, the mountain clans, tens of thousands of people are crossing the Riverlands and heading towards the Westerlands,” Tyrion sighed, pouring himself a glass of wine.

Oberyn’s laughter immediately vanished, and Ellaria looked at Tyrion in surprise.

“Tens of thousands of mountain tribe people are moving into the Westerlands?” Oberyn’s voice sounded strange to his own ears. He didn’t want to believe it. He refused to believe it.

*

In fact, there weren’t tens of thousands of mountain clan people migrating west. It was just that the grain carts from the Vale were too long, making it seem like there were a lot of people.

The Mountain opened the way in the Vale with courtesy, borrowing 210,000 gold dragons and 1,600 carts of grain.

The Mountain left 300 carts of grain for the mountain clans who refused to migrate. There were still 1,300 carts of grain left. Each cart needed horses or oxen to pull it. This meant that thousands of heads of cattle and packhorses fell into his hands. The carts also needed drivers, and when these Vale drivers delivered the money and grain to the Mountain, the Mountain intercepted them.

The Mountain didn’t let these drivers go back, ordering them to continue driving the carts west.

In this way, the Mountain gained the unpaid support of nearly 2,000 people from the Vale.

Through raven messages, under the unified command of Lady Lysa, Ser Redwine of the Redfort, Ser Graffson of Gulltown, Ser Lyoner, and Ser Mooton could only watch as the Mountain took away the money, grain, 1,600 carts, and nearly 2,000 drivers.

The mountain clans who refused to migrate took away 300 carts of grain, leaving behind 300 empty carts. The Mountain didn’t let go of even the empty carts. The empty carts were just right for storing the migrants’ packages. The elderly, women, and children could also ride in the carts, so they wouldn’t be tired.

*

“The lords of the Riverlands and the allied forces commanded by Randyll Tarly are fighting. The Mountain leads a legion to protect his people and carts as they cross the Riverlands. Randyll Tarly naturally wouldn’t send troops to attack his military officer. The lords of the Riverlands are preoccupied and wouldn’t send troops to attack the Mountain, inviting trouble. When I received Lord Randyll’s raven, the Mountain’s people had already reached the Kneeling Man,” Tyrion said.

“How many soldiers does the Mountain’s grain convoy have now?”

“Six thousand, I guess.”

“That many?”

“Ser Mooton with a thousand men, his guard and light cavalry totaling six hundred, and over four thousand warriors from the mountain clans of the Mountains of the Moon.”

“Why would those barbarians listen to him and migrate down from the mountains?” Ellaria Sand couldn’t accept this news.

Although she was a bastard, she lived a normal married life with Oberyn, and she considered herself Oberyn’s wife. They had four daughters, who were currently all in Dorne.

“The Mountain himself is a barbarian,” Oberyn told Ellaria. “Lord Hand, I feel like the Mountain isn’t the Lord of Dragonstone, but the Lord of Casterly Rock in the Westerlands.”

“Right!” Ellaria stared at Tyrion. “Lord Hand, does the Westerlands belong to the Cleganes or the Lannisters?”

“It’s not easy to drive the Mountain away now,” Tyrion shook his head. “Jeyne Westerling has over ten thousand warriors. There’s a heavy cavalry from Crackclaw Point in Crag Village. The power of House Westerling of the Crag is already the strongest in the north of the Westerlands. There used to be a House Marbrand that could suppress the Crag, but when Lord Marbrand was killed by Robb Stark and Adam Marbrand was killed by Sweetrobin and Dunsen, the power of House Marbrand quickly collapsed, and House Westerling has risen.”

Ellaria Sand and Oberyn exchanged glances.

“Lady Sarella Sand of the Silverhill has sworn allegiance to the Mountain. The castellan of Lannisport is nine-year-old Rosamund Lannister. How can she deal with the Mountain? Ser Daven Lannister, who fled, was captured, his children were killed, and his wife was imprisoned. The prestige of the Lannisters in the Westerlands has already shattered like glass on rocks.”

Oberyn stared intently at Tyrion: “Little Imp, what’s your purpose in telling me all this, belittling the Lannisters and praising the Mountain?”

Tyrion chuckled: “Prince, I have no fondness for the Lannister name. I’m a Lannister by the will of the Seven, with no choice. But we now have a common enemy: the Mountain.”

“Hmm, so? What do you want to do?”

“Kill the Mountain.”

“How to kill him?”

“Two ways to ensure no future troubles, after the royal wedding—you know the time isn’t far off—first, after the royal wedding, order the Mountain to lead an army across the Red Mountains and attack Dorne. You are responsible for gathering the Dornish soldiers and killing all the Mountain’s men within Dorne.”

“Good idea, what’s the second way?”

“The Dornish army goes by sea, departing from near Starfall, without alarming House Tyrell. The army secretly arrives at Lannisport and forms an alliance with the army of Lannisport and the lords of the Westerlands. First, slaughter Crag Village, then head north to encircle and suppress the Clegane people of Castamere and Tarbeck Hall, and finally attack the Crag of House Westerling, destroying the ancient House Westerling and avenging the nine great houses of Dorne.”

Oberyn’s eyes stared at Tyrion like a viper, and Tyrion faced him calmly.

“I choose the second one,” Oberyn said, “I still prefer to kill all the Clegane people.”

“Then the second one it is,” Tyrion said, “I will secretly gather the old retainers of House Lannister and the lords of the Westerlands who have grudges against the Mountain. Everyone will secretly prepare, waiting for the Dornish reinforcements to arrive at Lannisport, and then raise the banner of the allied forces to strangle the Mountain and his legion.”

“The Mountain has a heavy garrison in the Westerlands, what if many lords have already defected?”

“It doesn’t matter, before the war, I will announce to the Seven Kingdoms that I am stripping the Mountain of his title as Lord of Dragonstone, and then take away his title as Warden of the West and his position as Master of War, demoting him to a commoner, and issuing the Mountain’s Bill of Accusations. Hehe, Prince Oberyn, the Mountain has committed a lot of crimes. Once the Bill of Accusations is issued, everyone can find an opportunity to kill the Mountain and receive a generous reward from the King: commoners become nobles, knights become lords.”

“What a vicious plot,” Oberyn smiled, praising.

Ellaria said, “The Mountain fights everywhere, extorting and blackmailing, his enemies are not just us. Since he forcibly took the money and grain from the Vale, presumably all the lords of the Vale hate him too. His pride today will be his future crimes.”

“My lady is right. When we join forces to eliminate the Mountain, I will gain political stability, win back the respect of the Westerlands, and become the Lord of Casterly Rock. The grudges of the Prince and the nine great houses of Dorne will be avenged, and Dorne will win glory and real power in the royal palace. Otherwise, the power will be squeezed out by House Tyrell.”

“Well said, so, Little Imp, can I release my ravens to Dorne?”

“Of course, Prince. I have already written the letter to Prince Doran, would you like to take a look to see if it’s suitable?”

The Red Viper took the parchment scroll handed over by Tyrion, unfolded it, read it, and said: “One thing needs to be changed.”

“Which one?”

“Princess Myrcella cannot be sent back to King’s Landing, she must stay in Sunspear in Dorne to bear children for House Martell. This is the basis of our alliance.”

Ellaria also said, “Lord Hand, your enemy is the Mountain, our enemy is also the Mountain.”

“And House Westerling, Jeyne Westerling!” Oberyn laughed, “Halfman, Princess Myrcella already belongs to Dorne, you must rewrite the letter, or I will write it myself.”

Thank you to [Night White Two Depend On Each Other] for the reward! Grateful, handshake!