The Doll

"These people aren't the surrendering type," Oberyn scowled as the trio stood over the wounded swordsman. The burning in his arm told him everything he needed to know. He took a step closer to the human crawling along the ground - the one Ezra had defeated moments ago.

"Who sent you?" he spat.

The swordsman writhed, bloodied hand reaching toward him in defiance. Oberyn tightened his grip on his blade, heart pounding.

"Who sent you?" he demanded again.

But the man just curled his lips into a mocking grin.

"I'm not gonna - "

Oberyn's hand trembled, but he didn't hesitate. The blade found its mark, silencing the man. He tried not to look at Ezra's face as he plunged the blade through the man's heart.

He pulled the sword free. If the man wasn't going to answer, then this was what had to be done. He'd already been tricked by a human once today. He wouldn't be fooled again.