Clang!
The noise burst in the air as Torrhen met the Mountain’s blow from his sword with his own great sword Ice.
This will be the day the Mad Dog will die by my hands.
The giant’s strength and force on his weapon could be felt in Torrhen’s hand as he blocked it.
Torrhen blocked blow after blow as the people screamed and yelled as the Mountain turned rabid and attacked the Hand’s son.
Sandor Clegane came forward to stop the fight but Torrhen kept the Mountain away with a cut from above, using the long edge of the sword to his advantage and screamed like a wild man at the hound: “NO! The Rabid Dog’s mine to kill!”
Torrhen swung Ice like a mad man at the Mountain’s naked head but it was blocked every time.
With every clash of the swords, the Mountain took a step forward to close the distance between them. But Torrhen kept him back by retreating a step, knowing it would mean his death if he were within the hands reach of the Mountain.
Torrhen would have already lost if he had fought with a normal great sword. Because for a man like the Mountain a great sword was like a normal sword, and the strength he had because of his stature was unmatched to Torrhen’s.
But he had Ice with him. A Valyrian great sword that was lighter and sharper than a steel one. Still Torrhen was losing the fight, and he would have given up knowing that it was futile to win against the mountain but he was taken with rage and fury as the Beast was unleashed.
And the Beast would only be satisfied by tearing the Mountain’s throat out even when Torrhen was a single step away from death’s door.
“Come and face your death! Dog!”
Torrhen nicked the mountain’s hand through his armor with a cut and thrust and backed off. He was getting tired faster than the Mountain.
“STOP THIS MADNESS,” The King boomed, “IN THE NAME OF YOUR KING!”
The Mountain stopped for a moment as he assessed the damage to his hand and to better grip his sword.
“Torrhen back away this instant,” his father shouted as he advanced from the stands. “Owen, Selmy, separate the mad dog from my son this instant.” His sister was shrieking now at the mortal fight that could get her brother killed.
And Torrhen was breathless and afraid that the mountain would slip free from his hands. All he could think about was killing the Mountain once and for all. So with fury laced in his mouth he bellowed loud enough for all the crowd to hear: “Why have you stopped Dog! Are you only capable of killing new born babes and women! Are you afraid of a fight with a man who is older than a babe!”
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That seemed to further enrage the mad dog as he resumed his attack and Torrhen met it with a mad smile on his face, relishing that he could get a chance to kill.
The King’s men were getting closer to stop the fight when Winter and Lady burst into the lists as they snapped and growled at anyone getting close to Torrhen’s back. The men backed away at once seeing the fangs and anger of the Direwolves, Winter even clawed at the Hound’s hand when he refused to back away.
The Direwolves circled Torrhen and the Mountain as they fought, keeping everyone else away as they showed their feral faces at them. And occasionally taking a snap at the Mountain’s leg as he fought it off with a swing of his leg.
A cut from above threw the Mountain’s sword aside and Torrhen swinged Ice back to sever the Mad Dog’s head into half when the Mountain lurched backwards narrowly missing it, but the edge severed the nose clean.
The Mountain lost his balance when he stepped on Torrhen’s helm and he fell to the ground in a great heap of noise.
Torrhen was upon him in a moment, not allowing him to recover to get the chance to grab him with his hands.
Ice was forgotten on the ground as Torrhen pummeled the Mountain’s face with his hands. He noticed his helm beside the ground and swiftly picked it up.
Raising it high in the air and bringing it back on the Mad dog’s face. Shouting madly with each blow:
“Child Killer!”
“Rapist!”
“Murderer!”
Torrhen turned the Mountain’s face into a bloody pulp.
Hands pulled him away from the top of the Mountain’s body. Torrhen resisted it, screaming as he did so.
And only stopped when he looked upon Sansa’s fearful face. The thought that the fear on her face was because of him shattered his dark spell and the rage spilled out of him in an instant.
Owen helped him to his feet and Torrhen looked around at the crowd. Cleyton parried a blow meant for Lady with his sword from one of the King’s man’s spear and Winter had torn out the throat of one of the Mountain’s squire with his fangs. He realized that things had gotten carried away.
“Kill the Wild Beasts,” came a shout from one of the knights.
“I will kill anyone who dares hurt my Direwolves,” Torrhen screamed as he picked up Ice from the ground ready to fight once more and went near Winter.
And they all backed away from the direwolves, even the man who tried to hurt Lady backed away with fear.
“Hold the Direwolves back Torrhen,” his father said. “They are not listening to anyone.”
“Winter, Lady to me.” And they came by his feet, giving a snarl with their bloody snouts and a look at the men that were around them.
The King came from the stands, his face angry: “I told you to stop! And you incited him to fight you against the King’s command.”
“He killed my Stallion,” Torrhen said, trying to keep his emotions in check. “When he lost in the Joust, his armor and mount was mine to ransom back to him.” He turned to the crowds. “He tried to kill me in the presence of all these people when he attacked me. The Hand’s son. Your best friend’s son. The mad dog should be executed here for the crimes he had done to the smallfolk.” He stopped for a moment, and recalled the one thing he hated about the Baratheon King. “Your first act as King should have been to kill him, when he dashed a child against the wall and raped and murdered a defenseless highborn woman. And what did you do then!”
The crowd murmured amongst themselves hearing the accusation.
“Enough! You will speak no more. If you do, I will not even consider that you are Ned’s son.” The King said, remembering that incident with the Targaryens.
“Your Grace…” Father began.
Torrhen spat on the ground, turned away from them, and whistled for his Horse. He sheathed Ice on the mount and galloped away from the tourney grounds to the Kingswood not able to stand it any longer, with the Direwolves following him, as the crowd parted to let them leave.