(I wrote this story because I've always found Rhaegar Targaryen to be quite an intriguing character. I decided to bring him to life and this seemed to be the best way to do so. Constructive criticism will be greatly appreciated!)
The velvet strumming of Rhaegar's harp broke the silence. His fingers danced over his coveted instrument, bringing to life a song both melodious and mournful. Unopposed, the music seeped into every corner of the tent. The debate became a fading concern as Rhaegar's song slowly charmed the assembled lords and knights into indisposition.
The Prince stared at his royal fire, immersed in musical contemplation. His fingers moved of their own accord, a subconscious extension of his thought.
Slowly, the pace dropped. The notes faded away. The song was at an end.
Yet, he did not speak.
His bannermen exchanged furtive looks. The renewed silence was disquieting.
Finally, Barristan Selmy assumed the mantle of garnering a response. 'Your grace,' the white knight ventured, 'The Rebel requires a response.'
Instantly, the dispute was resurrected.
'What response?' Mayes Hightower protested. 'There is no consideration to be made!'
'None indeed!' Petyr Dayne agreed. 'Robert Baratheon dares challenge The Dragon Prince to single combat? What gives him the right to ask such a privilege?'
'This must be done!' protested Symon Darry. 'His Grace has a chance to end this right here! No more of our soldiers need die.'
'And what if the Rebel should prevail through some treachery?'
'You dare entertain such a concern, my lord?'
'It would be folly not to.'
'My lords,' the Prince broke in suddenly.
The squabbling instantly came to an end. His subjects leaned forward to hear the first words he had spoken since the arrival of the messenger.
'I have made my decision,' announced Rhaegar Targaryen. 'I shall meet Baratheon's challenge. And I shall kill him.'
His sudden proclamation took his subjects by surprise. Cheers and objections were voiced in equal measure.
Rhaegar stood up and put aside his harp. 'Thank you for your counsel, my lords and sers. I have considered your words and I have made up my mind. I give you leave to go.'
The royal authority could not be questioned. Between bows, the council dispersed.
'Jon, fetch my armor. Pip, ready my horse for battle.' Rhaegar directed his squires.
Barristan Selmy remained.
The white knight tried to gather his thoughts in an attempt to dissuade the prince. He stood mutely as two of the royal squires proceeded to dress up Rhaegar for war.
'Your Grace, have you thought this through?' Selmy said at last. He was never one for words. Communication with arms had always been easier for him.
'Of course, Ser Barristan,' was the soft reply.
'Is this the best course of action, my prince? If… If you shall fail, our cause is doomed.'
Rhaegar adjusted his magnificent breastplate. 'I shall not fail.'
'Robert Baratheon has a reputation as a fearsome warrior, Your Grace.'
The prince regarded him with a controlled expression. 'As do I. I shall return victorious, ser. Rejoice the fall of the Rebel.'
Armored in his iconic gear with helm in hand, he strode out of the royal tent, his long white hair streaming behind him.
Barristan cursed his skills as a wordsmith. Damn it, Rhaegar. This is an unnecessary wager. We have all stood by your love for Lyanna. We have all died for it. And now you may too? I will not be able to live with myself if that happens.
He hurried out of the tent and caught the prince mounting his war-horse.
Rhaegar's lilac eyes smiled reassurance at the knight through his helm. Leaving behind unspoken words, the Prince galloped off to meet his challenger.
He approached the crossing of the Green Fork. The fighting had ceased. His soldiers stood to either side of his passage, forming a crude guard of honor. Somewhere, someone had started beating a drum. The battle had come to a standstill to allow this engagement.
The rebel troops stood motionless at the opposite side of the river's crossing. At their head was a hulking figure, mounted on a destrier. He was glimmering in full body armor and wielded a fearsome warhammer. Robert Baratheon.
On seeing the Prince approach, Robert Baratheon nudged his mount forward and yelled in a booming voice. 'I, Robert of House Baratheon, do challenge you, Rhaegar Targaryen to single combat! We shall fight to the death!'
Somewhere, another drum started beating. The tension in the air grew more palpable as the gathered warriors anticipated a response.
Rhaegar regarded his opponent for a minute. His foe had decided to wield his famous hammer and an oaken shield for the duel. He had himself opted for his castle forged sword and trusty shield. Rhaegar glanced at the antlered helm on Robert's head and at his shield bearing the Baratheon sigil- a black Stag on a yellow background. His mount, too, was wearing the Baratheon colors. It made for a daunting sight. Robert radiated his might as a warrior.
'I accept your challenge.' The Dragon Prince announced loudly and clearly.
On either side of the crossing, trumpets were blown. The battle for Lyanna Stark commenced.
With a savage war cry, Robert Baratheon charged. Rhaegar Targaryen galloped to meet his advance.
They met in the middle of the crossing. With another exclamation, the Rebel swung his warhammer. Rhaegar raised his shield to block a blow which otherwise would have caved in his head. His whole arm trembled from the impact of the ferocious blow. For a fleeting second, the Prince of Dragonstone was apprehensive.
He answered immediately with an upward slash. His foe dodged the attack.
'Where is she?' Robert Baratheon growled venomously.
Rhaegar made no response.
'Where- have- you- kept- her?!' The Rebel roared in between blows.
The Prince quietly deflected the attacks and remained intensely focused on the incoming warhammer.
His strength is almost super human! Rhaegar cursed.
'Somewhere. You don't need to know,' he replied coldly, in the hopes of distracting the anger charged rebel.
Robert's unforgiving hammer landed on the head of his enemy's horse. The angry hit crushed the animal's skull despite the armor. Rhaegar's mount collapsed beneath him. Cursing, he got off the dead horse and landed in the river crossing. Although the water was only ankle deep, the restricted motion could prove fatal against a mounted foe.
'Let it not be said that the Dragon Prince died without a fight.' spat Robert Baratheon vehemently. Much to Rhaegar's surprise, his enemy dismounted.
He seized the opportunity and lunged forward. His thrust was batted aside. Roaring, he stabbed yet again, looking for an opening. Denied. He tried once more, to no avail.
Again and again.
The battle had become a flurry of sword and hammer. The combatants danced to a deadly tune, each looking for blood. Amidst the bloodthirsty grunts and shouts, the stream flowed serenely, unaffected by the raging battle taking place in it.
'Why? Why did you take her?' hissed Robert Baratheon, his black eyes smoldering with rage.
'Because I love her,' answered Rhaegar Targaryen, his own exotic eyes clad in steely resolve. 'And because she loves me.'
'LIAR!' The blows thundered like his voice. In his blood rage, the Rebel finally penetrated the Prince's defense and landed his weapon on Rhaegar's knee.
With a cry of pain, the Prince buckled to one leg. The Dragon's blood seeped out through his damaged armor and started coloring the stream an eerie shade.
His wound fuelled his anger- the next strike was fast and true. A deep gash appeared on the side of Robert's abdomen.
Wincing with pain, the Dragon Prince pushed himself upright. His black and red armor shimmered in the light, giving him an otherworldly look. A three headed dragon, the sigil of his house, wrought entirely out of rubies adorned his breastplate. The tall, handsome warrior launched an aggressive attack. With the speed and majesty of a dragon, his heritage, he dispatched blows with his longsword. After his focus had weaned, Robert was left injured in several places and bleeding profusely.
'This is how it has to be,' Rhaegar muttered softly, even sadly.
Robert Baratheon lurched up suddenly at these words. Breathing heavily, he advanced towards his enemy slowly, contemptuously.
'This is how it has to be?' he repeated disgustedly. 'You steal my betrothed… nay, my, beloved. You spirit her away. And you dare… you dare…!'
The Baratheon warhammer had transformed into an unstoppable entity. Engulfed in wordless fury, the Lord of Storm's End rained blows upon the Prince of Dragonstone. A particularly vicious strike snapped Rhaegar's sword cleanly into two. Fighting a sense of doom, he blocked further hits by grasping his shield two handedly.
He has to tire. He must be reaching exhaustion now.
Robert roared and pressed on. 'LYANNA!'
Boom. Boom. Boom. The sounds of hammer on shield reverberated all around.
He can't possibly go on much longer.
Rhaegar's shield was starting to fall apart. It was too battered to withstand any more of the Baratheon fury. Chunks of it were flying around with every hit.
Robert's eyes were a swirling pit of hate and fury. But Rhaegar saw something else too. He saw fear.
He does not fear for himself. He fears for Lyanna.
This realization dawned upon the Dragon Prince. But it was too late. The shield he was clutching was a now useless scrap of wood.
The next swing of the hammer caught Rhaegar Targaryen square in the chest.
A splatter of red caught the light, blood and rubies alike in the air. The dismembered ruby dragon glittered in the sun before diving into the water.
Rhaegar was thrown back with brute force. His breastplate crushed, he struggled to breathe. With herculean effort, he picked himself up. This was not agreeable with Robert Baratheon.
The next blow of the warhammer cleanly knocked off all remaining rubies from the Targaryen breastplate. Its owner collapsed- this time for good.
Rhaegar's chest had caved in. His lungs were punctured. He was suffocating slowly.
The Lord of Storms' End stood above him, looking down in condemnation. Rhaegar's life slowly ebbed away. On the outskirts of morality, he noticed Robert raise his hammer once again.
I'm sorry that you'll never understand. All I did was for love.
Barely conscious, the prince waited for the last words he would ever hear.
Robert Baratheon brought down the hammer.