The instant the words "trial by combat" fell, the square in Duskendale sank into a silence so complete it was almost a vacuum.
The tremors brought on by the dragon aura still echoed deep in their bones, and that soul-shattering roar seemed to linger right beside their ears.
Everyone on the Lannister side, without exception, had braced themselves to be burned to charcoal by dragonfire or crushed into pulp beneath that monster's claw.
Tyrion's heart had sunk to the bottom, cold through and through.
Guest right was useless. The law was useless. Before the Three-Headed Dragon that blotted out the sky and its master's absolute might, all their schemes were as laughable as a child's sandcastle.
He had thought the Lannisters were certain to die today.
But a moment later, Aegon gave them an answer no one had expected.
Trial by combat.
Tyrion froze where he stood, his mismatched eyes widening so violently they nearly popped out of their sockets.
At first, he wondered whether the dragon's roar had damaged his hearing. Had terror made him hallucinate? Had despair driven him to hear things?
But when he saw the ice-cold face of the silver-haired True Dragon on the platform, and the grave look settling into Oberyn's eyes beside him, the string that had long since snapped suddenly sprang back with wild force.
Deliverance... from certain death!
True deliverance from certain death!
A surge of scorching joy, powerful enough to nearly overwhelm him, shot from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head, instantly shattering what little composure he had feigned.
He could barely control the muscles in his face. Only through a desperate effort did he suppress the smile threatening to stretch from ear to ear and preserve some semblance of calm.
*Trial by combat... Aegon had