Banners of wolf and eagle and stag fly across a camp hidden some way north of Trident, not far from the crossroads. The rebel forces waiting for word of the Royalist army lead by the dragon prince Rhaegar to come to the crossing. The camp is restless as the night passes, the looming threat of a battle upon the horizon clear in the way the men move about the grounds through the evening firelight. Some drink, some sleep, some find some comfort in the arms of others. Some just sit, with the thoughts of the day to come, the day that could be the last for many of the men around them.
Eddard Stark sits surrounded by Northmen. Nearby him a man he considers a secondary father figure sits with some of his own men beside him, Jon Arryn looking over the map of the area where it lays out on the table in front of him. Closer still to Ned sits Robert, a man he considers a brother, drinking heavy and laughing jovially with the others around him, lifting the spirits beyond the nerves that rest heavy in them all.
Ned drinks himself, a flagon of beer cradled in his hands where a sword will likely take residence the next day. He sips and listens as the men around him talk, Robert leading the majority of the conversation surrounding them. Night continues further and Ned makes his way to Jon, who has given up the map for a tired look that he shares with the auburn haired Hoster Tully beside him.
"Word of Rhaegars forces," Jon informs his former ward, glancing to the map once more, "near Maidenpool, it seems they are resting as well for the evening."
"The royalists that have recuperated from the Stoney Sept have been joined by Dornish men and others from the Crownlands." Hoster speaks, "words also come that a host from the Reach has joined them at Maidenpool as well. The the majority of the Reach is keeping in the Stormlands, preparing to go at Storm's End."
Ned nods, "the Prince?"
"Amongst them." Jon informs, "leading the forces."
"About time," Robert barks, joining the conversation, his head having snapped the three mens direction at mention of Rhaegar. His previously jovial mood having darkened at the thought of the Targaryen Prince. "Hiding about, I'm more than ready to face the damned Prince."
"What happens after?" Hoster inquires, a man keen on looking ahead with the knowledge that most here felt looming around that this battle itself could change much for the Seven Kingdoms.
"What do you mean after?" Robert shakes his head, "we ride to Kings Landing and end the madness."
"Lord Tully is right to wonder, Robert," Jon settles, his tone of the one that both his former wards recognize as one of counseling. "If we are successful and gods willing alive by the next night we have to think of what we'll install once the King and Prince are both dealt with."
"He has another son, perhaps young enough to be taught better," Brynden Tully remarks, he's sat not far from them, but closer to the Lord Arryn than his brother. The two hadn't spoken since the Blackfish took up in service of the Vale Lord. "Or there are the children of Elia and Rhaegar as well, a boy not even a year of age."
Jon seemed to consider, "could be done. Put in a regent of our choosing until the boy's of age."
But Robert just shook his head before spitting a bit to the ground. "I say to hell with them all." He stood, and despite how many drinks he'd had and the flush to his cheeks from it he says clear and concise, "to hell with the dragons and their madness!"
Some men cheered along, raising drinks and shouting their cursing of the house. Ned glanced about, watching as Jon studied Roberts impassioned ranting. "They've taken my sisters. Killed my country-men. Killed my father and brother." He remarks, not the boisterous yelling that Robert possessed but a stonier disquiet. Men looked to him now, "My brother Brandon should be Lord of Winterfell, should be fighting this war, leading these men. But he was killed… for what?" Ned shook his head, "it's all madness."
"Madness indeed my brother," Robert moves, clapping a hand upon Neds shoulder. "Madness that has bred in these Targaryens for generations. How many wars and burnings have we, the people of the Seven Kingdoms, suffered because of these Dragons? Even so long after the source of their rise has died off we continue to suffer and burn." Robert speaks louder, looking over the men gathered. "I say no longer."
"What would you have us do instead?" Jon inquires, it is not malicious or judging. Simply calm and weathered, waiting for Robert to declare it.
"Put someone new, end the damned dynasty that's tormented us all for centuries." Robert declares.
"Who?" Hoster questions.
Quiet settled about the men, looking about but it seemed the answer was already there. Stood and passionate about the fight ahead. "I'll take it." Robert declared, low and smooth voice declaring with the strength of his spirit behind it. "For our people and our losses I'll rid the kingdom of those mad dragons and set us up better."
Several Stormlords cheered, supporting their lord from the start. Robert, despite his bravado and confidence that never truly left him, looked between Jon and Ned both for their support. For those two were the only ones who could see the anxious worry deep within him that they would dispute this proclamation, that they would choose some other path.
But Ned saw in the man who'd become a brother to him no reason he shouldn't support him. He saw a man impassioned for the same justices he wishes as well, justice for Lyanna and Rickard and Brandon and Alys. A man he trusts and loves as dear as family. So he nods, "I'm with you Robert, as I've always been. If you claim it I, the North, will support you."
The Northmen around them nodded, giving their sounds of support behind Ned until Jon clears his throat. "I've not been blessed of yet with children." Jon looks at the two men, Robert stood proud and by all appearance fearless, and Ned sat and serious and watching the Vale Lord. "But the two of you are sons of mine, if not by name or blood than by bond." He stands from his spot and moves before them, "I support you Robert, as though you were of my blood. I will support your claim, from this day till my last."
With the three heads of the Rebellion together, supporting this way ahead the men around them cheered, shouting support of Robert and disparaging the Targaryens they all opposed. More drink was passed about, somewhere in camp music played, and soon enough the moment had passed though the sentiment and meaning did not.
Night continued to pass, people slowly but eventually finding what sleep was left to them. Ned sat, beside Robert and with Jon as the camp settled. He wondered as time passed if they would win, if these declarations would see fruition or if they were to become empty words shouted to the void by the next evening.
The Trident's waters glinted in the noon sunlight. Blue and shimmering and steady the wide length of the river waited far more patiently in the still air than the army some ways north of its bank.
The army waited, hidden from sight from the southern banks where their enemies would be coming. With bated breath and nerves piling, they waited for the Prince and his forces to make their attempt at crossing the shallow ford of the Trident. Horses of the cavalry snort and paw upon the ground, feeling the anxious anticipation of their riders and the men on foot behind them. Archers count their arrows. And men both of faith and without it pray for success as the hour passes in seemingly agonizing slowness.
Ned Stark sits atop his dappled grey courser, one hand gripping his reins and the other resting anxiously upon the hilt of his sword. He glances up and down the line of men stretching out on either side of him frequently. The grip on his sword is the only tell of his nerves, for he holds his face stoic and back straight for the men who follow him to believe he has no nerves to be found.
Nearby him atop his tall bay destrier Robert Baratheon sits tall, looking to hold far more confidence and far less nerves before the battle than his dearest friend. Robert lives for the fight, he grips his war hammers handle not out of nerves like Ned but out of anticipation. Feeling the grip of it and readying himself for when he'll be swinging it once again as he has already in the previous battles fought in the war. His own eyes, full of light and excitement, survey the land before them waiting for the sight of the scouts sent ahead to bring word of Rhaegars crossing so he can command their force forward and send them after the crossing army.
Somewhere some birds called in the air, horses snorted some more and a man coughed somewhere amongst the sea of them. Ned spotted the rider first, whistling low under his voice to Robert who follows his gaze. The rider makes for them and stops before them.
"They've started crossing the ford," the scout, one of Neds northern men and glancing between the pair of them. "I started this way when they were just past a quarter of the way across, as instructed."
Ned nods, "go down the line, inform Lords Arryn and Tully." The scout nods and kicks his horse into a loping gallop to make his way down the line to where Jon and Hoster sit atop their own horses waiting for the fight.
"Are you ready?" Robert asks, his own form filled with readiness as he sits taller in his saddle and pulls his war hammer from its holster on the side of the horse.
Ned looks to the man who is as close to a brother to him and nods, "though it matters little if I am or not." He looks back straight in the direction they will ride. "This must be done."
"Aye." Robert nods, looking forward himself. They heard the horn, down from where Jon and Hoster were signaling they've received the scouts news. "Good luck to you brother."
"And you." Ned pulls his sword from its scabbard and raises it as Robert edges forward and turns to the men surrounding them his booming voice commands them, and soon war-horns echo throughout the area as Robert calls them into a charge.
Ned doesn't hesitate, his heels digging into his courser and sending it forward as Robert charges off. Others surround them both, a thundering of hooves and metal and shouts of "STARK!" and "BARATHEON!" and "TULLY" and "ARRYN" and more and more names surround them. The thunderous noise echoing and carrying the whole charge over from their hidden spot to the muddy banks of the Trident.
The first of the riders break into sight-lines of the Ford. Horses and men ankle deep in the shallower waters of the Trident making their way across scrambling to prepare for the attack, soon with Rhaegar Targaryen's own voice carrying their call to arms across the waters as he sits atop his black destrier with his sword rising up and signaling them. He glitters like the blue water in his black steel armor, the red of inlaid rubies shimmering and sparkling like fire in the light.
He pushes his horse forward through the men, Ser Barristan and Ser Darry on either side of him atop their own war horses and wearing the gilded armor of the Kingsguard. They drift from his side to flank him as the Rebel riders grow nearer.
The first clash of steel seemed the loudest to Ned, as his sword met another's he steered his horse around to strike once more. A flash of red before he spurred onwards in direction for another. Steel crashing against steel sang around him, the earthy smell of the riverbed mingling with the metallic smell of blood as he fought one after one, pushing his horse forward and forgetting most everything else but the fighting.
Roberts voice was booming as he called his cry for war. His bright blue eyes scanning the mess of the ford for one foe and one foe alone. He swung his hammer at inconsequential men who ran for him, his focus singular as he caught sight of the red cloak emblazoned with a three headed dragon and he spurred his horse hard in the direction of the Dragon Prince.
Lewyn Martell led the men of Dorne across the river towards the left flank. He aimed his spear down at some men of the Vale as he rode his horse about them, cutting them down one after another.
He staggered sideways upon his horse as a knight of the Vale struck his side, swinging his spear around he lodged it within the man's throat and pulled, letting the knight fall from his horse that bolted away with its rider gone. Lewyn felt the burn upon his side, blood seeping through the fabric of his undershirt and between the seams of his armor but he pushed forth, continuing onwards and onwards to assault the left side of the rebels until another knight from the Vale, carrying the sword of his fallen father lead men through to break the line of Dornishmen.
Ser Lyn Corbray charged Lewyn, who fought through the sting of his side and met the man in his own charge. As Ser Lyn's horse ran past Lewyn's own the Vale Knight swung his sword towards the Dornish Prince. Lewyn attempted to dodge, leaning from his saddle to miss the sword. But a spike of pain staggered him and in a second the sword cut up his front and sent him from the saddle. He landed upon the muddy waters of the ford and blinked up at the noon sun, his last thoughts of a fleeting memory of another sunny day spent with a paramour in the city.
Robert's horse thundered through the men of the ford. His warhammer smashing through any who stood between him and the dragon that had enraptured his focus. He shouted "RHAEGAR" loud and booming and gathering the attention of the Prince as he wished. Rhaegar spinning his own horse to charge the Stormlord until the two met in a cacophonous crash of steel and shouts.
Rhaegars sword swung towards Robert, striking across the larger mans side and drawing blood through the steel. But Robert didn't blink as he swung his hammer.
Again.
Again.
Again.
He battered towards the prince, the lithe man steering his horse around and around. The two of them circling one another. Around and around. No attention was paid to the men fighting and dying around them, for the pair it was only them on the ford as the water was churned and sprayed up upon them as they continued around and around.
The Prince dodged swing after swing as Robert raged. Swing missed, and missed, and missed.
Until a swing hit.
The two side by side so close that Robert could feel the Prince's horse flush against his leg. He swung his hammer in an upwards stroke with a ferocious cry of pain and rage and war and it finally hit the prince's chest. Shattering and crushing and sending red rubies shattering and scattering into the muddy water around them.
Rhaegar's black destrier reared. The Prince fell.
Landing into the water with a crash, red seeping from him into the water and swirling through it like the reflection of fire. He gasped, his shattered chest suffocating him as he struggled to stay breathing.
Struggled to stay living.
He could see the sun just barely, but more forbearing was the image of Robert Baratheon astride his horse as seconds ticked by as the life left Rhaegar all at once both slow and quick. His violet eyes shut to the light and the image.
And he thought of many things as the last seconds of his life turned away.
He thought of prophecies and children and legacy.
He thought of Elia and his failures and his hopes for successes.
He thought last of Lyanna, of his hopes that lay with her where he left her.
His last breath comes out in her name.
And over it the booming cry of victory from Robert signals the fall off of the battle. Individuals continue to fight for a few last minutes but it takes very little time for the men who followed the Dragon Prince into this battle to know that it was done.
It was lost for them.
And won for the Rebels.
Ned rode his courser in the direction of his dearest friend, who sat upon his bay destrier in his iron armor with the Stag emblazoned upon it and decorated with the blood of a dragon. His war hammer hung in his hand and he stared at the foe that he'd looked most forward to seeing dead.
The Trident's water was murky, stirred up mud and blood of the fallen swirling through it's shallow depths. Sunlight shone upon it still, bright and warm and glinting upon the armor of the men stood and upon those men submerged. As the battle finished and the men gathered the waters of the ford settled once more into a steady patience for what was next.
Thank you for reading!
I'm sorry for the wait that this chapter took and am grateful for your support and patience! This was probably the most intimidating chapter for me to write just cause writing a battle (especially the Trident) scared me but I'm really happy with how it turned out. Hopefully will get the next chapter out soon (especially with all the free time in quarantine).
Thank you for all the follows, favorites, and comments I really do appreciate them all!