"It's over," the man in red and black ebony armor shouted, "We've failed, our prince is dead. He was brought down by Robert's Hammer." Others, almost thirty four thousand, dressed in armor of black dragon helms and red dragon cloak fasteners, or shaded red light Dornish armor, gleaming in the golden sun, fell to their knees. More threw down their weapons or the banners of their King, some even started to run southeast, away from the rushing river and the victorious army.
The prince can't be dead. His prince..his future king, who was just, honorable, fearless, and humble. A True Man fit for the Throne.
The Old Guard sheathed his sword as he knelt on the grasses of the battlefield. He knelt between bodies, bodies of men, both Targaryen and Baratheon, and a body of a beautiful white horse with a bloody mouth and an arrow piercing its torso, now lying together in death. The river was pink on its southern side, his memory feeding him sights of blood and carcasses that painted the foamy white torrent that was the Trident. The battle was lost for the Loyalists.
"I have failed. I was his last guard, after Lewyn fell, after Jonothor.." the old man murmured aloud, but there was only heads and legs and bits of brain, no one to hear. The scene was grim, the battle bloody and overwhelming for Targaryen forces, realized the Old Guard as he knelt and reflected, almost as if in prayer. The battle raged on for hours, it seemed to the Guard. Prince Rhaegar had decided to meet the Usurper, Robert, head on in battle. The two armies prepared to charge another, and clash to a watery ruin or victory, the Trident between the two armies, as the seven kingdoms finally rose to the most important battle of the civil war.
The armies were on armored horses, and Robert's was massive, with brown-green armor with embroidered slits contrasted with golden green gems shimmering, and the polished saddle, shaped for its large horse and larger rider. Robert looked like The Warrior come again, shouting words to his army, rallying them, with sledgehammer raised in the air, as they rattled, shaked, and screamed back at their Usurper King, Robert.
Some words were caught, "The end of the dragon is nigh. They will bleed here with us brothers. This day, we will kill each other in the names of loved and lost. But they have done us wrong too many times. Again and again, destroying our families because of madness and fire and blood. Well I am MAD! And I have a FIRE in me!" A clang echoed across the Trident again and again, as Robert hit his chest with his enormous war hammer, "Now come with me and let's slay this Dragon, his army, and watch their BLOOD FLOW On These Grounds 'TIL WE CAN'T FIND A FUCKING TRACE.. THAT.. DRAGONS... EXISTED!" His men were screaming and shouting and some clanged their weapons to the clang of Robert's hammer to chest.
The war cries echoed across and off the waters of the river, causing a feeling of unease among the men. The Old Guard had looked to his friend then, Prince Rhaegar, as he trotted forward and turned his horse to face his army. Rhaegar had dressed in his ebony gilded armor with a unique addition. He had added many a red ruby, patterned around the armor. His gems glittered red-gold in the suns unusually golden blaze. On each shoulder, clasping the black and red cloak, were two golden dragon ornaments. He looked like a true king in that moment, on his black horse, ready to face the beast of a man Robert. The giant golden dragon ornaments and Sun, both, gave Rhaegar an unusual glow that made his silvery long hair shine blonde. Calm and humble as he was, he began his speech slowly, but intensified as he spoke, "Today we fight. Perhaps we fight for fire, perhaps for blood. We may fight for ourselves or for honor. We may fight for those awaiting, hoping for our return. TODAY! Today, we fight for those men before us, conquerors and thinkers and lovers. For the South and for the North, East, West..it does not matter." Prince Rhaegar turned to his last guard, Ser Lewyn Martell and the Old Guard himself, who had been with him always, and looked them in their dutiful eyes, "today we fight for the many o' men and women that believe in our line and our rule and our values. The Dragon Kings! The Targaryens of Old Valyria! Madness, some are plagued with, it grieves me to know and I know it too well. But our line has endured. The conquerors endured. The commanders endured. Men who have changed the realm countless times for the better. Those who conquered the unconquerable! Perhaps some of you cannot love a king succumbed to madness. Then I ask of you, one small boon. To give me, today, that duty and love that a madman cannot possibly garner. So that I may do the hard justice that must be done. A usurper is still a usurper, regardless of the circumstances. We fight to defend those Kings and their royal line. My line." Rhaegar turned his black horse around and unsheathed his sword, the golden sun gleaming off of the rippling steel, and turned his head around to his right and shouted out, before charging Robert Baratheon and his army, "FOR OUR KINGS."
He said Kings.
The old man couldn't help but chuckle. It was so unnoticeable at first and only in looking back did the old man with the white cloak realize what the Prince had said, with the screams from across the river, and their own men shouting and calling at the Prince. In the official histories, it will be said that Rhaegar's final words before he charged were "for our king."
Both speeches were inspired and, perhaps, they both were thinking on the same things.
As he knelt, The Guard tried to remember how he lost sight of his Prince. The charge was strong and fierce and the armies crashed together, in steel and screams, at the waters of the Trident. The moments right after were intense, horses falling into the water around him, a sword arm coming at him low from a Northern soldier, his own retaliation, the entire horse of the poor gallant Northern boy falling backwards away, and the boys entire arm, from hand to shoulder, spinning ridiculously in the air, blood spurting everywhere.
The Guard had fought hard to stay near his Prince for what seemed a very long time, but Roberts men were overwhelming the Old Guard's host and had encircled Rhaegar. Robert had not entered the battle, but once he saw his men had almost completely encircled Rhaegar, he eventually entered the battle and advanced towards the Prince, and his men began to fight a push outwards and away, leaving Robert and Rhaegar alone on the waters of the Trident. The Old Guard was fighting on the right of the giant circle of men, but the circle continued to grow as more of the men of the North, the Vale, and the Stormlands joined and turned their backs to the dueling Rhaegar and Robert. Somehow, the rebellious army still had men enough to fight around and beside their men that shaped the circle. Robert was shouting and cursing, but there were only grunts of effort from Rhaegar, but those grunts could have just as easily been anyone in that area of chaotic battle.
The real chaos began when the old mans horse began panting, struggling between the screaming army, the clash of steel, and the corpses turning the foamy waters red. Every knight whose ridden long enough knows when his horse is pushing itself hard and the old mans horse was having trouble, whining and huffing, between the rushing river and the carcasses that were piling up, creating a sort of man made dam of death. The next swing that came at them was blocked by the old guard's shield, but another swing came from the left, just missing the old guard's armor. With quick efficiency, the old guard plunged his sword in the side of the Baratheon soldier's gut. The soldiers sword kept going, though, out of the Baratheon man's now lifeless hand past the front of his vision. Chaos erupted as the Guards horse went berserk. First, the old man heard the scream of terror from his horse, strangely high pitched and gargled. Next thing he knew, he was on a bucking bronco, and it began running wildly away from the battle, and then turned itself, still gurgling, and went back to the waters and it span, and could not be controlled for anything.
The Guard remembered seeing a brown horse and a soldier holding a sword atop it, and a banner of a Stag with massive antlers, like on Robert's helm. The banner was moving right beside him from the right, the Guard could hear the horn he was blowing, almost into his ear. He was clinging on the horse with all his strength. He remembered a different sword coming out from in front of him, left of him, even above him, his horse bucking and spraying blood from the mouth insanely, and his own insane idea of jumping into the banner wielding Baratheon soldier to his right. He remembered the crunching sound when both men toppled off the brown calm horse, onto the grassy field. He remembered his Kingsguard helm toppling off and striking the soldier in the face under him, but the man was dead, his neck broken. The old guard climbed off his body, his own frame weak and numb, but he fought through it and began hobbling, running, and trying to get back to his Prince, helm forgotten.
He ran towards the encircled fighters, parallel to the straighter portion of the Trident, where the battle met. Men dismounted and ran towards him, swords drawn and stepping over bodies of fallen Targaryen loyalists.
Their strategy was impeccable. Encircle the two men and fight outwards. Our men were forced into trying to breach a razor sharp circle.
The Bold Guard ran with speed so unlike a fighter of his age, his steel pointed to the right. The first man neared him and the guard slowed down slightly and, in an instant, flicked his wrist so the sword was level to an opening below the soldiers outstretched armpit, between the leather jerkin. The old guard pivoted with his left foot and span around the dead man, still standing, and pulled his sword out and continued running, all in one motion. The second man coming to him, quickly, was a much shorter man, so the guard ran faster and jumped forward with pierce of his longsword. It went right through the soldiers nose bridge, his eyes cross-eyed, trying to comprehend the sword shoved in his face. The man coming upon them was too close and so the guard continued pushing sword and used the momentum to roll over the dead man reeling backwards. The motion brought him to a crouched position and he stayed crouched and low, now pulling his sword out the second soldiers face and sweeping, taking out the legs of the man who expected a quite taller target.
He heard the scream then, from men fighting a few feet away, knew the voice to be his brother in white cape. Quick as he could, the Old Guard finished the soldier he was fighting. The soldiers scream was loud, but Lewyn's curse was louder. Between thrusts of his sword to two soldiers attacking, The Guard saw the blood flowing from Lewyn's side, a worrisome amount. The grunts and the vicious steel made music as the old guard and the Dornish Guard, Lewyn, fought off more men, these with the sigil of a blue eagle in flight. The entirety of Lewyn's Dornish host had moved a few paces East to try to catch Roberts left flank unawares, but from the glances the old man had taken, between swords coming at him, the tactic had failed. The sounds of Lewyn's effort were mingling with the sounds of steel. The Dornishmen recovered after Lewyn finally struck down the man he was fighting. The glance the old man took of the wounded officer, who was leading the defense on the left flank for the Usurper Robert, the sigil was apparent, but The Old Guard was only glancing between strokes. He saw three winged creatures and some other shape he could not make out.
The whole left flank began to crumble as Ser Lewyn turned and began shouting orders, "You twenty head around ten paces and Gah! wade across, these men here are going to move up and engage the broken defense.." Lewyn's voice was cut off, and the Old Guard figured out the wounded commander's sigil when an anguished scream made him glance again at his Dornish brother of white cloak again, in between fighting. Lyn of House Corbray had rushed to his lord father's wounded body, picked up the famous Valyrian sword of House Corbray, Lady Forlorn, and stepped in front of him protectively. All of a sudden the collapsing defense was rallying against the screaming Corbray. It was difficult to keep up with the rest, a few Northern clan men started to gang up on the Old Guard, forcing him to focus entirely on the dance. He could hear the sounds of a new charge building and finally a war cry piercing the sky from Lord Corbray. He knew, for he could still hear Lewyn's grunts, the moment the scream came rushing to the Guards ears and an instant later stopping abruptly, he knew he was the last. The Last Guard. He fought harder and cut down two men with an angled swing from a diagonal pivot that went through knee, hip, and shoulder. He ran to the encircled men only a few paces northwest on the rushing waters of the Green Fork.
And Then, The Sun Exploded.
Pure insanity fell on the battlefield. The sun exploded in a burst of golden light above them and suddenly, everything was blindingly white, the guard could not see and shouted out. His ears picked up similar cries around him of people clawing at their eyes and howling like wolves. The guard blinked and his eyes began to pain him, watering, and he blinked again and again. Soon, the soldiers screams had dissipated and the Guard found himself looking around. The golden sunburst had ended as soon as it occurred, the sun looking as normal as can be, but the effects were still being felt. Some who were looking skyward when it happened were moaning still, rubbing their eyes fiercely, a strange golden glow now shimmering behind him. The guard began to run again, but the golden hue resounded sneakily in his vision and was forcing him off balance. He tripped over a carcass and landed on another carcass, the entire world was throbbing and coloured in a yellow hue. The effect finally began leaving his vision.
The Prince was only a few yards away, The Last Guard knew, but he was still on his knees and winded. He moved to get on his feet, heard a sharp shout, looked up, and saw a soldier of House Lychester loose an arrow in his direction. The guard tried to shift but it was too late, he felt the prick, then the extreme heat, and the sear go across his entire body. He did not look to his left shoulder, but continued to move, waving his sword broadside out in front of him, with quick flicks of his wrist. "WAIT! STOP!" a deep voice rumbled loudly, their voice calling from across the battle, but the second arrow had already been loosed. It hit him in the right leg with a terrible chunking sound and the pain was so sharp and the horrible throbbing feeling in the middle of his leg meant it had hit bone. He fell to his knees, the sounds gone from his head, everything was throbbing, his head splitting, someone was screaming STOP STOP STOP I SAID at the top of their lungs, but the soldier had already taken aim.
The arrow would have probably struck the old man just above his forehead and would have surely pierced his skull and cut through the middle of his brain, through and through. In that moment, all the guard could think was of his Prince, and of the strange neighing sound coming from the left, growing so loud, his ear felt likely to burst. The body of the white lightly armored horse, his horse, blurred by and the tiny chunk sound confirmed the arrow had pierced the armor.
I was lucky
The horse falling and screaming came next, and so the Bold Guard, Barristan Selmy, knelt and pulled out his dagger. He whispered, soothingly, and drew the thing across the throat of the poor horse. He patted her on the head as it died there, blood mixing and coating the flesh of bodies Targaryen and Baratheon both.
It was there that Ser Barristan Selmy waited for the Usurper Kings justice. The victory cries of Roberts army echoed as loud as a monsoon and Ser Barristan caught shouts of delight and pride, "All Hail the Storm King," one shouted. "For Robert! For Robert, Slayer of Dragons!" said another. "Victory at the Green Fork. The dragon prince's rubies have fallen in the waters. For Robert, For Robert. Will they honor the fallen Prince or steal his possessions right here and now? More shouts from the river, a gruffer, and more powerful voice reached Ser Barristan's ears, "No. Leave the rubies there. Every single one, ya' hear me. This is their final resting place, a watery torrent, perhaps it will be strong enough to wash away the stain of blood on those red rubies that is the legacy of the Dragon Kings. They should rename this path the Ruby Fork, even if Green is a Baratheon color, 'tis to be Rhaegar's only memoriam, more than he deserves." Robert's voice was strong and powerful, much like his physicality, a voice of a true commander of battle. His men worshipped him like they would The Warrior, his sworn bannermen Ned Stark and Jon Arryn were honorable and just men, on their own horses, and with them, they had half the strength of Westeros behind them.
All the Targaryens can hope is that Tywin Lannister is as honorable an ally as Stark and Arryn are to Robert.
It troubled Ser Barristan that Tywin Lannister had not hastened to King's Landing to protect the city, when Rhaegar decided to march North. Lord Mace Tyrell of Highgarden had moved his armies east to Siege Storm's End and the rebel Lord Stannis, while Lord Paxter Redwyne of the Arbor aided Lord Tyrell by setting up blockades at the ports around the Storms End with his ships. Not that it truly did any good, no one was like to escape Storms End and no one had enough gall to breach it, friend or foe. Tywin, however, still sat in the safety of Casterly Rock with his entire army of Westerners, only the Seven with knowledge of what he might be waiting for.
And what of me, what will I be after Robert comes?
Ser Barristan was still kneeling, weary from the battle and awaiting Robert. Ned Stark was having words with him and Robert called out once more above the deafening roar of victorious soldiers and dying men. "Get Ned, Howland, and Martyn here your fastest horses. Ned, you can take that brown one there, that was Ser Lewyn Martell's. Felled by Corbray in the battle."
'Twas quite the charge Lyn gave the Gallant Kingsguard. " Lord Stark responded to that, but Ser Barristan could hardly hear his voice, softer than the roar that was Robert. The Usurper nodded to what Stark had said, "Yes, take a group of your men, I want the other clans, but take Clan Wull, they seem the strongest and I want you well protected when you arrive, I still don't know what bloody Tywin wants." Eddard Stark's voice rose as he called out for his men and Clan Wull to form up. "We ride to King's Landing with haste. And I mean with haste, I will be there to meet Tywin Lannister at the gates of Kings Landing. For Robert." The men echoed their commander and Eddard Stark turned and spurred his horse South East and to the King's city.
Ser Barristan turned to see Robert trotting towards his direction, but he was surrounded by joyful soldiers and whooping officers, and one or two more serious bannermen trotting next to him, speaking and pointing towards the Southeast. Robert shushed the Lord speaking urgently into his ear, "Quiet man. If it please you so much, form up some men and capture them. Do not kill any who have surrendered their blades and yielded. But if one of them tries to sneak a blade on any of our men, kill them. Dornishmen can be crafty, be careful. Alright, let's get this done." Robert and his entourage stopped just short of the carcass of Ser Barristan's horse. Robert got off the horse, wincing a bit and favoring his side as he stepped onto the grass. "It was a beautiful horse, sad to see it's fate turned sour," Robert said when he
faced the lost King's Guard.
"She is a beautiful horse indeed. I remember the first time I saw her. I was sixteen when Aegon presented it to me. He had just knighted me a fortnight past after I had a second mysterious night," Barristan and Robert both chuckled at that. "It seems this horse and I grew up together, but she was an old thing. I have hope that she would forgive me for the pain I brought her this day."
"Come now Ser Barristan. You are a man above the rest. One of the best swords I've ever seen, it's a pity you were killing my men or else I would have loved a watch." Robert laughed and then looked down almost shamefully, "I am sorry it had to come to this, for your sake, truly. Come on! Get up, let's walk a second."
Ser Barristan rose and finally sheathed his sword that was gripped tightly still in his right hand. He could hardly move his leg, but he stood anyway. He sighed and shook his left arm to perceive the damage, a bit more feeling came back and an uncomfortable sting of pain from his left arm. He must have winced because Robert called, "someone bring my squire and a sewing kit." "Don't trouble yourself Robert, I will have Grand Maester Pycelle look at it once I secure the King and the Red Keep." Barristan looked to Robert to see what he thought of that. Robert's face betrayed him, "So I see you truly have no love for the Targaryens and King Aerys."
"The Mad King. You know he must go Ser Barristan. Surely, your honor cannot blind you to the evil the man has committed." Robert raised his arms and sighed, "A whole family built on dragon fire and incest. Well that's bloody royalty for ya'. The old King made it easy for us to be heroes. We had a villain who was insane, merciless, murderous, and protected by every law in the history of Westeros to continue doing whatever the fuck came to his head." Robert snorted, "It's just like in the stories Jon Arryn used to tell me when I was a boy."
Ser Barristan took in this man who led a rebellion for a woman and vengeance, the Bold Guard did not know which force truly fueled his heart, "And what are you now, Lord Robert?"
Robert did not answer at first, but he did not look annoyed, he looked to be dreaming standing there looking out over the grassy plains of the Riverlands, beautiful in the strange gold sun. They stood there in silence for a time until Robert spoke up, "Well I suppose I am King. It must be my responsibility to pick up the pieces of all the damage my rebellion has caused the realm. Never again will the realm be handed to those who can wake up mad from there incentuous birth at the flip of a coin." Robert gave Ser Barristan a sharp look, "Is that not a just cause, Ser?"
Ser Barristan did not need to answer that question, the answer was plain on Robert's face and etched on his own as well "What of the house that has been quiet in all this, what of the Lions of Lannister?" Barristan had to ask, to see if Robert knew. Ser Barristan's fears were confirmed from the look on Robert's face. "He was never going to fight for the Dragon, he already expressed his desire to aid our rebellion. Ned doesn't trust him because he plans to storm King's Landing and arrest the last Targaryens. Ned thinks he is going to betray our cause so he's taken Howland Reed and Martyn Cassel and others down the Kings Road with all the haste in the world. They ride to King's Landing, picking up isolated soldiers from our own cause to protect the Red Keep from just the things you fear. Last I know from a fortnight ago, Tywin Lannister's army is formed up in the Westerlands outside Casterly Rock, but has not marched yet. I promise you Ser Barristan, my first plan of action is to protect Kings Landing from suffering more atrocities, from the Targaryen side and mine own side. Tywin will not reach the Lion's Gate before Eddard Stark sees the castle with his own eyes, I promise you."
That is likely to change, once Rhaegar, Lewyn and I left with our armies, Tywin probably began his march. But to what end? Is Robert correct?
Ser Barristan frowned from the implications, "If what you say is true then, the war is over and the Targaryens doomed. How can I serve a King who trusts in the loyalty of a cold, dishonorable man as Tywin Lannister. He served twenty years under Aerys." Robert was frowning now as well, "I never said I trust him. I know the legacy of Tywin Lannister, the man told his father off for being weak at the age of bloody twelve. He is proud but not trustworthy. Ser Barristan, Tywin Lannister is not a man I call brother. You know the men I keep company. Ned Stark, Hoster Tully, Jon Arryn, and my true brothers are just men, these men are my friends and they are loyal to me, ready to help me rule, not men such as Tywin Lannister. You are a member of a Kingsguard that has no King, he forfeit his claim to rule the moment he started killing his own bannermen. If you believe that I will rule justly under the advisement of better men than myself, you included, perhaps I can carve a legacy of peace and bring the entire realm to order once again." Robert was looking him dead in the eye, "I don't know what King I'll be, but I know that I will better King Aerys the Mad."
Robert stepped forward and clasped Ser Barristan's right shoulder, "Can you follow a King such as that? Can you protect him with your life and follow him in all his decisions?"
Ser Barristan knew then that this man was much more humble than who he seemed from afar, his strength unmatched, and his friends true to the ideals of honorable men, Eddard Stark and Hoster Tully proved their skill in battle today and their ideals in the aftermath of the battle. Starks first thoughts were to the safety of Kings Landing. King Aerys II was insane, there was no denying it, but his vows weighed heavy in his heart. Now his King was fallen, everything he was and had, now ashes.
Tywin cannot be so cruel.. it is not honourable but I can only decide once I look upon the Capital City once more.
Ser Barristan Selmy kneeled and unsheathed his sword and placed it across his knee. "I vow to protect you, to stand guard in your name, to fight for your honor, and to die for you if need be. All this I swear to you, Your Grace and my King."
"Then rise, Ser Barristan Selmy, rise, first of my Kingsguard. Rise from the ashes of Dragonfire and ride with the Storm King, come again."