Chapter 19 – Battle of the Trident
Artos Stark
At last, we stand upon the banks of the Trident. At last, the hour comes when we will meet and blood will decide which house endures. Tomorrow there will be fire and steel.
Their scouts say they are sixty thousand strong—more men than we can muster, though we are forty-five thousand hardened by victory and we are bound by purpose. Numbers mean little when a host falters, and Rhaegar's host already bleeds. The Reach is tangled in the Stormlands, and Lord Mace Tyrell sits chained in my camp. The lion of Casterly Rock still slumbers, weighing whether to bare its teeth, but that worry belongs to another day. Win here, and the game is ended. Lose, and nothing else matters.
I have claimed the right flank. My choice, not command's. Barristan the Bold himself leads the king's mirror opposite, with more men and more banners. That is where the fight will be fiercest, where the ground must be held at any cost. Many who burned with my kin at King's Landing now stand across the river; it is fitting that I face them myself.
I know this because I warged into Rick. Through his eyes, their movements were laid bare to me. Ned pressed me for answers when I told him, his brow furrowed with suspicion On how I got this information, but in the end, he trusted. He always does. He worried I sought death, that I threw myself upon the greater danger to atone for ghosts only I recall. Yet I convinced him. The duty falls to me—always to me. Such is the way of Starks.
Ice feels well in my hands. Not the familiar longsword but heavier, longer, though my size makes the greatsword no greater than a blade was meant to be. Valyrian steel—it sings lighter than any steel forged in Winterfell's smithies, quick as thought in the cut, and it lends me reach no man of the king's side shall match tomorrow.
I am ready. Ready to kill, or to die. Whatever the old gods have written for my destiny.
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Third POV
Battle of the Trident
Both sides were ready to fight. There wasn't even a parley between them .Hate is still burning in the purest form.
Robbert Baratheon, Eddard Stark and Ser Blackfish are in the main force standing tall with thier forces.Ready to attack at any of time.
Jon Arryn is incharge of the reserves and ready to counter any changes or any plans during the battle. He the overall commander of the Battle.
Left flank is being commanded By Royces Loyal followers of Arryn. They are the most famous knights in the seven Kingdoms. They are capable of competing with any force
Artos Stark is standing with his 8000 men made up of Greybeards, Mountain Clans, Skagosi, Umbers and Tallharts.
Banners of the demonic Direwolf is flying and flaring among them.
Artos Stark is going to give a last speech before going in the battlefield.
He is in his horse at the front of the Marching men.
Artos Stark " MEN OF THE NORTH. WE ARE FINALLY HERE TO AVENGE OUR LORD AND HIS HIER THAT WAS TAKEN FROM YOU. THE HOPE OF SURVIVING THE HARSH WINTERS WAS TAKEN FROM YOU."
He continued " TIME FOR WAR HAS COME. NOW IS THE TIME FOR US WARRIORS TO SHOUT OUR WARCRIES.
TIME FOR WAR HAS COME. ITS TIME TO PUT EITHER YOUR PRIDE OR YOUR LIFE INTO BLADES AND ARROWS.
ITS TIME TO TELL THE SOUTHERN BASTARDS THAT WE ARE NORTH MEN TRUE DESANDANTS OF THE FIRST MEN .
WE WILL SHOW THEM THAT WE ARE WARRIORS. WITH OUR WILL WE WILL TAKE LIVES OR GIVE OURS IF NEED BE .
WAR IS THE OUR TIME . WAR IS WHERE WE SHOW AND PROVE WHO IS THE TRUE WARRIOR .
DEATH IS NOT THE END FOR US. WE WILL FIGHT TILL THE OLD GODS MEET US .
FORGET THE MERCY REMEMBER THE PRIDE OF THE NORTH . WE NOT KNOW DEFEAT . VICTORY IS THE ONLY WAY FOR THE TRUE WARRIOR. FOR THE NORTHERNER.
WINTER IS COMING."
A raw emotion can be seen on every single of the warriors. All ready to kill the enemies or die trying. All ready to show they were the fiercest warriors among them
With That emotion they all shouted.
"WINTER IS COMING."
ARTOS " DON'T STOP UNTILL THEY ALL ARE DEAD. MERCY IS NOT AN OPTION. DEATH IS THE ONLY WAY. BLOOD IS THE ONLY WAY. WINTER IS COMING "
"WINTER IS COMING."
With that shout all men ready to march into battle.
Then started the most brutal and grueling and cruel battle of the war. Even in the history, This will come out as the most brutal battle after the conquest 8000 mens no demons killing and slaughtering the 12000 men. Out of 20000 men only 6500 men survived.
Artos and Greybeards marched to kill the enemies.
The Battle
The two hosts met upon a wide plain, steel flashing beneath a gray sky.
At first glance, the odds favored The Crown's army: twelve thousand men, banners snapping, drums rolling, and Barristan the Bold and seasoned commanders shouting orders down the lines. Starks, only eight thousand strong, stood silent, grim, and strangely calm — the stillness of wolves before the hunt.
When the horns blew,Artos and Greybeards surged forward. The old warriors led the charge, scarred men in their forties who had marched to the field with no hope of returning. They locked shields, advanced as one, and crashed into enemies front line like a hammer against soft wood.
North was brutal and merciless. They did not fight to survive — they fought to kill. Their screams and unrelenting ferocity tore through Crown ranks, spreading fear faster than swords could cut.
At first, Dragon side commanders tried to hold order. Their voices carried across the din, rallying their soldiers into defensive formations. But the common men — many untested in true battle — felt their courage falter. They had never seen enemies who sought death, who smiled through blood and pressed forward even when their comrades fell.The men laughing in the battlefield.
The lines bent, then buckled. The old warriors of North died by the hundreds, but they dragged ten men down with every fall, and their blood only stained the ground for the berserkers behind them.
Soon the center of Crown's army started to collapse, men throwing down shields, turning to flee. The commanders tried to stem the tide, but fear spread like fire in dry grass. Once the rout began, North showed no mercy. They hunted the fleeing soldiers, cutting down thousands as they ran.
Artos in his horse Snow riding in the battlefield like a demon. Killing men like nothing. His almost 6ft Valyriyan Sword killing more than one man in one swing.
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