Game of Thrones: Second Son of House Targaryen

Chapter 391: Execution at Ruby Ford

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 meters high, has been brought here by fleet. Hoisted upright by lifting equipment and teams of men, 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 remembers him. The statue depicts Rhaegar, helmet in hand, revealing a handsome 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 amethyst 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.

Meanwhile, 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 met 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. Memories 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 hammer 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 men who’d succumbed to the frenzy.

Lost in memory, 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 same surge of dread he once felt before Rhaegar. But this is no ghost—this is Viserys.

Clad in armor meticulously 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 me kill you."

Robert looked at Viserys with a mocking grin. "Come on, then. I'm excited at the thought of killing you bastards! Someone, put my armor on me!"

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 time, 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 seemed to say something quietly. Robert was stunned, the pit in his stomach deepening as he struggled to process it all. 'Ned has betrayed me,' he thought, almost numb with shock.

Viserys nodded to Ned, who came over and, pulling a flask from his cloak, offered it to Robert. "Drink, Robert."

"You betrayed me!" 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 garments 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 come to Harrenhal to help me!" The bitterness of his own failures simmered beneath the surface, deepening the resentment in his voice.

Ned’s expression hardened, disappointment 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 measure 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 helmet in place.

Across from him, Viserys had also armed himself, gripping a long halberd as he walked forward to meet Robert.

At that moment, 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. Some whispered among themselves about how many Unsullied might be needed to face someone like Viserys, with guesses ranging from fifty to three hundred. For Dany, however, there was no detachment; 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 claimed victory in a tourney at Braavos. Rhaegar, too, had won many tournaments, 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 hammer 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 hammer with a single hand.

“What is he doing? Why is he looking at me like that?” Robert felt a jolt of shock, an uncharacteristic crack in his confidence. Strength had always been his edge; yet here was Viserys, meeting his might with casual ease. It was madness.

But as the nobles watched in stunned silence, Viserys’s grip tightened, and Robert’s hammer refused to budge. Robert struggled to pull it back, but it seemed glued to Viserys’s hand. 'Monster! Monster! No! This is sorcery!' Robert’s mind screamed in disbelief.

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Some of the nobles stepped forward, hardly trusting their eyes. Exactly as Viserys had planned—this display was meant 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 hammer 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 meet 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 metal 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 time, 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 mercy of the river’s currents, to be swallowed by fish or washed out to sea, as fate willed.