Chapter 598: Execution

Under the watchful eyes of the public at the trial, the Mountain admitted to his crimes. He had raped and killed Princess Elia Martell and had thrown a baby against a wall. He wasn't sure if the baby was Prince Aegon, but at this point, he just wanted a swift end. After being tortured by Oberyn for years, even the most resilient of men would break.

Then, Gregor Clegane further confirmed that after they had entered King's Landing, Tywin had ordered him and the Lannister knights, including Amory Lorch, to "storm the Red Keep and kill every living Targaryen." They carried out Lord Tywin's commands, although their methods were excessively brutal. The Mountain, who had been captured years ago during the battle of Pentos, and Amory Lorch, another culprit, had been killed in the Western battlefield, beheaded.

The Mountain's testimony about Lord Tywin's orders was irrefutable. The Red Viper's eyes were filled with rage. Even after all these years, and even after he had decimated the Lannister family, hearing about it still weighed heavily on him.

Rhaenys's eyes were similarly teary. She had forgotten the faces and voices of her parents, but their hatred remained unforgettable.

"Do you have anything else to say?" someone asked.

"Lord Tywin."

Viserys, who was involved in this event, listened calmly, showing no strong emotion. He simply sighed and then spoke. He had known about this outcome when he first arrived in this world and planned to flee King's Landing. But he couldn't warn anyone in time, couldn't stop the Mad King from opening the city gates, and certainly couldn't save his sister-in-law, Princess Elia, or others. The Mad King was mad for a reason.

It was then that Rhaenys, chasing a black cat, happened to run in front of a cart. Viserys, feeling pity, gritted his teeth and took her in.

"To the victor belong the spoils, Viserys."

"I fought and I lost. I have nothing more to say."

Tywin lifted his head, his voice rough and low. He offered no defense against the allegations, showing a defiant demeanor.

"Just remember one thing," Tywin said, staring intently at Viserys. "A Lannister always pays his debts!"

Tywin, now kneeling on the ground, knew his fate. Rather than begging Viserys for mercy and hoping for a chance to take the black, he chose to face death with dignity. He knew that even if he pleaded, there would be no chance of mercy. The execution block was being prepared.

"Prepare for the execution!"

Two soldiers placed a large butcher's block on the execution platform. The executioner was Sandor Clegane, the Westerlands knight. He was cleaning his greatsword, then sheathed it. The previous royal executioner, Ilyn Payne, had been beheaded by Sandor a few days prior – a fitting end.

Sandor, defeated at the Battle of Red Lake and taken prisoner, had then surrendered to the Targaryen army. He was severely burned at the time, and Oberyn only discovered his identity later.

The Hound was swift and ruthless in his executions, always taking a drink before delivering a clean, efficient death. He didn't prolong the suffering.

During this period, Sandor had beheaded many, averaging more than three a day. However, today's first execution was his own brother, Sir Gregor Clegane.

The Mountain was brought to the execution ground, his hands and feet broken, unable to resist. He was forced onto the execution block.

On the other side, Sandor, wearing heavy scale armor, took several large gulps from his flask and then set it down. Drawing his two-handed sword, its bright blade shone brilliantly in the sun.

"I've wanted to do this for a long time, my 'big' brother."

The Mountain, now on the block, faced the angry crowd below. He seemed to have a moment of clarity – after all, no one can face death calmly.

"Let me go!" He shouted twice, struggling to rise, hoping for mercy since he had implicated Tywin. But Sandor's sword showed no mercy. With a swift motion, the Mountain's large head rolled, blood spurting out.

Sandor cleaned the blood off his sword and sheathed it. Unsullied soldiers stepped forward, dragging away the Mountain's body.

Following the Mountain's execution, it was now Tywin Lannister's turn.

"Move!" Unsullied soldiers emotionlessly dragged Tywin to the execution block.

The block, still stained with the Mountain's blood, reeked of death. The smell, a mix of many who had been executed there, was nauseating. Even though Tywin had mentally prepared himself, the looming reality of his execution filled him with dread.

He was no different from the Mountain or countless others who were beheaded – fear consumed him in the end.

"Kneel!" Tywin was forced onto the block, his chest against the wood, his neck exposed. An overwhelming sense of cold dread enveloped him as death loomed.

His breathing became rapid, his mustached lips quivered, and fear gripped him.

On the other side, Sandor, having just beheaded his brother, took another swig from his flask, the strong alcohol burning down his throat. With an expression of either satisfaction from revenge or just a general bitterness, he cursed.

Drawing his greatsword again, he lifted it high.