The Trident River.
Its main stem and tributaries nourish the entire Interriver region and most of the Westerlands. The rushing waters make the vegetation more abundant than anywhere else, lining the banks with lush greenery. Dozens of warships are docked along the Green Fork of the Trident. Miners work tirelessly, consolidating the foundations of a site chosen long ago. A towering statue of Rhaegar, standing four ters high, has been brought here by fleet. Hoisted upright by lifting equipnt and teams of n, it now looms proudly.
With a dull rumble, the ground quakes beneath everyone's feet.
The statue’s erection is personally supervised by Connington, who ensures every detail reflects Rhaegar as he rembers him. The statue depicts Rhaegar, helt in hand, revealing a handso face. His other hand rests at his waist on his sword. His lips curve in a faint smile, as if savoring a recent victory. Carved from pure marble by master artisans from the Free Cities and Qarth, the statue's quality is unmatched. A group of nobles, gathered to "view the execution," gaze upon Rhaegar’s likeness, almost feeling as if they’ve been transported back twenty years.
Rhaegar—the prince who was called "Prince That Was Promised."
Connington watches the nobles’ reactions, visibly pleased. If not for Viserys's firm dissuasion, he might have even fashioned a golden statue of Rhaegar. In the end, he compromised by setting two athyst stones into Rhaegar’s eyes, and adorning the chest with 300 rubies. If Valyrian steel were not so rare, Connington would have gone further, forging a Valyrian steel statue to preserve Rhaegar’s likeness forever. Viserys has also agreed to let Connington be buried beside Rhaegar's statue after death, an eternal Warden to his prince. Viserys, aware of Connington’s devotion, says nothing to question his motives; after all, he has seen the bond shared by Loras and Renly and respects Connington’s feelings.
anwhile, Robert, chained inside a cage, is transported to face the statue of Rhaegar. His duel with Viserys, planned and prepared in advance, is to end in his death before Rhaegar’s likeness.
Eustace rips the black canvas off the cage, flooding it with blinding sunlight. Robert squints, raising his hand to shield his eyes. Slowly, he opens one eye and surveys his surroundings. He sees the guards stationed beside him, then hears the steady rush of the river. Breathing in the humid air, he realizes he’s at Ruby Ford—the very spot where he once t Ned from the North and where he had slain Rhaegar with his own hands.
Ruby Ford—the place of his greatest victory.
Across the river, he spots black-sailed warships and Rhaegar’s statue, surrounded by a multitude of colorful flags. mories surge back of his duel with Rhaegar over a decade ago. Rhaegar had skill, but his strength had never matched Robert’s. The fight ended with Robert’s mighty hamr blow to Rhaegar’s chest, sending rubies scattering like rain. Soldiers around them scrambled for the gems, greedily clawing at Rhaegar’s corpse. To regain control, Robert had been forced to kill two of his own n who’d succumbed to the frenzy.
Lost in mory, Robert snaps back to reality at the sight of a figure approaching him, clad in familiar armor. His scalp tightens as he recognizes the silver hair and piercing violet eyes. For an instant, he feels the sa surge of dread he once felt before Rhaegar. But this is no ghost—this is Viserys.
Clad in armor ticulously reproduced under Connington’s guidance, Viserys strides toward Robert. Every detail of the armor, polished to perfection, mirrors Rhaegar’s. Viserys intends to avenge his fallen kin, to finish the story begun at Ruby Ford.
"Release him!" Viserys commanded, and the soldier beside him unlatched Robert's cage.
"Robert, put on your armor," Viserys said, pointing to the towering statue of Rhaegar behind him. "I want Rhaegar to watch kill you."
Robert looked at Viserys with a mocking grin. "Co on, then. I'm excited at the thought of killing you bastards! Soone, put my armor on !"
Eustace's hand flew to his sword at Robert's insolence, but Viserys halted him with a sharp glance. After a tense pause, Robert realized that no one intended to help him. He was a prisoner, after all, and this was simply a different kind of execution.
Resigned, Robert started to put on his armor himself. As he did, a familiar face caught his eye—Ned. He stopped, thinking it was a trick of the light. But after rubbing his eyes, he saw his old friend, standing near Viserys with a reluctant look.
'He...how is he here? Did he surrender?' Robert felt a wave of disbelief; he could hardly imagine Ned bending the knee. It had been nearly three months since the Battle of Gods Eye Lake, and during that ti, Robert had been in total isolation. He knew nothing of the recent “Alliance of the Mander.”
While Robert wrestled with his confusion, Ned approached Viserys and seed to say sothing quietly. Robert was stunned, the pit in his stomach deepening as he struggled to process it all. 'Ned has betrayed ,' he thought, almost numb with shock.
Viserys nodded to Ned, who ca over and, pulling a flask from his cloak, offered it to Robert. "Drink, Robert."
"You betrayed !" Robert’s chest heaved, the words burning his throat. He froze mid-motion, then threw a punch squarely at Ned’s face. Ned didn’t defend himself, and before Robert could press his attack, the surrounding soldiers pulled him back.
"Ned! You bloody traitor!" he spat, his face twisted with rage. "First Cersei, and now you. I’ll wait for you in the seven hellS!"
Seeing her husband struck, Catelyn, supported by Robb, rushed forward to check on Ned. She had recently given birth to their sixth child, and though weak, she bundled herself in thick garnts that gave her a slightly bloated, penguin-like appearance. She held Ned’s head gently to examine his injuries. The force of Robert’s blow had broken his nose, and her heart ached as tears welled up.
"He’s already volunteered to wear the black," she cried angrily. "What more do you want? You’re an usurper, Robert! What right do you have to demand his loyalty?"
"Cat!" Ned tried to stop her, but Catelyn pushed on, her voice thick with contempt. She had no love for Robert and held no sympathy, especially after what had befallen Bran.
"Ned never betrayed you," she continued. "Don’t you even know what happened at the Mander? Is that what you call betrayal? Do you know nothing of loyalty?"
Robert, caught off guard, looked confused. "What Mander?"
As Catelyn recounted the details, Robert felt the bitter sting of realization, though his anger flared again. "Honor? Is that all you think about? You’re as blind as your mother was, you fool! You could’ve crossed the river when they were gone or co to Harrenhal to help !" The bitterness of his own failures simred beneath the surface, deepening the resentnt in his voice.
Ned’s expression hardened, disappointnt evident. 'He’s my brother, yet he’s never understood,' he thought, 'never even tried to see things from my side.' Viserys, in contrast, had risked much to protect Ned’s honor and the North's allegiance to Robert.
Without a word, Ned picked up the flask, relieved that it had survived the altercation with only a few drops spilled. He placed it back before Robert and, without looking back, turned to leave with Catelyn. He’d considered helping Robert finish his armor but decided against it. Ned was loyal, but he would never bow to blind pride.
The onlookers, including the Red Viper, Doran, and Mace, watched the scene with cold eyes, while even the northern nobles who had once respected Robert now looked on with a asure of disdain.
Robert, realizing he had no help forthcoming, finished donning his armor. He grabbed the flask Ned had left and downed it in one go, the wine spilling down his beard. Then, with a resolute slam, he set the flask down and fixed his helt in place.
Across from him, Viserys had also ard himself, gripping a long halberd as he walked forward to et Robert.
At that mont, the crowd around the duel site looked on, breathless. Among them were Dany, Young Connington, Dick, Gerrold, and seasoned veterans of the Usurper's War, including Jon Connington— Jorah himself—and the Old Walder. A group of Riverlands and Westerlands nobles who had surrendered also stood by, keen to witness the spectacle.
Young Connington and Dick had already heard tales of Viserys's bravery and rumored magic, leaving little suspense for them in this duel of revenge. So whispered among themselves about how many Unsullied might be needed to face soone like Viserys, with guesses ranging from fifty to three hundred. For Dany, however, there was no detachnt; her heart clenched despite her confidence in Viserys. She perched on her dragon’s back, ready to swoop in if anything went amiss.
For the surrendered nobles, Viserys was a mystery. They’d only heard of his skills, knowing he’d once claid victory in a tourney at Braavos. Rhaegar, too, had won many tournants, yet had fallen to Robert’s might. Even so, they silently prayed for Viserys’s triumph; the blood of the Mad King ran through them all, and Dany’s fierce expression hinted at consequences if Viserys were to fall.
With everyone watching, Viserys and Robert faced off before the statue of Rhaegar. Robert roared, swinging his heavy hamr with deadly force. To his shock, Viserys stood unmoving, making no attempt to dodge. Eyes widened across the crowd, and Dany nearly urged her dragon forward, fearing the worst. But just as Robert thought his blow would connect, Viserys reached out and stopped the hamr with a single hand.
“What is he doing? Why is he looking at like that?” Robert felt a jolt of shock, an uncharacteristic crack in his confidence. Strength had always been his edge; yet here was Viserys, eting his might with casual ease. It was madness.
But as the nobles watched in stunned silence, Viserys’s grip tightened, and Robert’s hamr refused to budge. Robert struggled to pull it back, but it seed glued to Viserys’s hand. 'Monster! Monster! No! This is sorcery!' Robert’s mind scread in disbelief.
Gasps rippled through the crowd. So of the nobles stepped forward, hardly trusting their eyes. Exactly as Viserys had planned—this display was ant to intimidate, as well as avenge Rhaegar. Power wasn’t only strength; it was in the fear and awe that true displays of dominance could create.
With a single pull, Viserys yanked the hamr from Robert’s grasp. Without hesitation, he swung it into Robert’s chest. The impact hurled Robert backward, slamming him into the base of Rhaegar’s statue. The sickening crunch of bones breaking echoed in the stillness, and a dark splash of blood pooled on the ground, steaming faintly in the chill air. Robert’s breaths grew ragged, each exhale weaker than the last.
Viserys stepped forward, grasping Robert by the nape and dragging him before the statue. Without needing a command, two soldiers positioned Robert into a forced kneel, his gaze lifted to et the stone eyes of Rhaegar. Dany approached, handing Viserys his Valyrian steel sword, the Purple Mist. A flash of cold steel glinted, and Robert’s head fell to the base of Rhaegar’s feet.
In one final act, Dany’s dragon released a jet of fire, reducing Robert’s armored body to molten tal and ashes. Connington collected what remained, arranging for the ashes to be buried beneath the statue of Rhaegar.
The second duel was between the Red Viper and Tywin. This ti, there was no question of suspense. The Red Viper’s spear struck true, piercing Tywin’s chest and ending him with a swift decapitation. Tywin’s body was taken back to the Westerlands, where it was burned and his ashes cast into the Green Fork, left to the rcy of the river’s currents, to be swallowed by fish or washed out to sea, as fate willed.
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