The Dragon of Duskendale -- A Song of Ice and Fire Fanfic

Chapter 18

Aelor Targaryen had often wondered what ran through a man's mind when he topped a ridge to face the steel of an enemy host. He'd known the feeling in small portions, experience from the Parchments and Bronzegate and other skirmishes, but he'd never seen disciplined lines of enemy armor stretching almost as far as his eyes could see.

Now he had.

The rebel forces were exactly where they'd thought they'd be, staring across the river Trident at them from behind walls of shields and armor. The prancing stag of Baratheon flew over the spears directly center of the unnamed ford, its waters having receded back to its normal banks after four days of sun. It ran a beautiful blue green beneath a brightening and brilliant blue sky, babbling away in that soothing way of water. It was a clear, crisp morning, with not a cloud to be seen. A beautiful morning, the type artists painted or wove, not the type men fought and died under.

Yet here I am, and so is the enemy. Thousands will die today, pretty sky or no. Aelor sat Warrior three hundred yards off at the edge of the tree line, staring at the riverbank full of men he was going to kill.

The Stormlanders held the center, judging by the banners. There was the black and white swan of House Swann, the green turtle of Estermont, the hanged man of Trant and dozens of others. Dominating them all and billowing over the epicenter of the rebel lines was the black stag of Baratheon, it's golden field brilliant in the sunlight. Even at this distance Aelor could see the daunting form of Robert Baratheon atop a fittingly white stallion, an antlered helm and his impressive stature singling him out from among the forest of steel and iron. I've been hunting you for months, Baratheon. I am glad we've finally bumped into one another.

The Dragon of Duskendale let his gaze drift from the rebel leader, following the line of enemies to his right. He was greeted by the iron studs on bronze field of Royce, the six bells on purple field of Belmore, the silver arrows on brown field of Hunter and, predominate to them all, the soaring blue falcon on white moon and sky blue field of Arryn. The Vale holds their left, then, meaning...To his own left, the enemies right, he recognized the giant in chains on red field of Umber, the merman on blue field of Manderly, the flayed man on pink field of Bolton, and of course the running grey direwolf on white field of Stark. Intermixed with them all was the dancing maiden of Piper, eagles of Mallister, and frog of Vypren, and of course the trout on blue and red field of Tully. Brilliant, a full house. We wouldn't want anyone missing the party, now would we.

A melodic, melancholy voice spoke to Aelor's left, King Rhaegar reining up beside him on a stallion nearly as big and dark as his own. Aelor felt Warrior begin to tense, snorting heavily at the appearance of a potential rival at his flank. "I see they were expecting us."

Aelor grunted his agreement, reaching down to pat Warrior's neck below the crinet. Easy boy, there will be plenty of targets for your ire today. He gestured towards the forest of spears forming the front lines, swordsmen behind them. The enemy was massed heavily in the center, wisely making their line the strongest where the Targaryens would have to cross the river. While the ford was wide and the open fields on either side helped, there was still only a limited amount of space that the royalist would have to cross. "I can't see them for the spearmen, but I'd wager all of Duskendale that nearly every archer they have is sighted in on the ford."

Ser Barristan the Bold, mounted to the left of the King on a stallion as white as his armor, nodded his agreement. "It's what we had anticipated, Your Grace, and what we would have done in their place."

It's what we anticipated, yes, but I had kept a little hope they'd be stupid. Folly, I suppose. "Once we're across the water their flanks will certainly swoop in on our own. We'll be fighting in a horseshoe, just as we thought." Aelor stretched his arms, flexing and relaxing his hands in rapid succession. He felt the lust for battle already coursing through his veins, that dose of clarity it bathed the world in sharpening his senses. He nodded confidently. "I'll punch a hole. You bring the infantry in to fill it."