DISCLAIMER

A Song of Ice and Fire, along with all its content and characters, is property of George R.R. Martin and licensed by HBO. Please support the original material.

Rhaegar I

There was an eerie quiet that had fallen over the two opposing armies. To Rhaegar it seemed that the air was so thick with tension that he could cut it with a knife.

He could see his men gazing across the trident at the rebels while they waited for the battle to begin. Rhaegar knew it wouldn't be long until the traitor, Robert Baratheon, would lose patients and lead a charge against his line. Raegar knew that Robert lived up to his House's words, 'Ours is the fury'. The prince could recall seeing the legendary rage of the hammer-wielding lord, at the tourney at Harrenhal some drunken hedge knight had slighted the Baratheon. The knight had attempted to steal away a whore who had been resting on his lap, that earned the fool several lost teeth and a bloodied broken nose. He'd returned to his whoring and drinking afterward as if nothing had happened, his rage seemingly bottled up for the next man who might slight him. Robert's fury was aimed squarely at Rhaegar now, and nothing, save the embrace of the Stranger, could stay it.

There were no cheers of battle yet, just the exchange of cold glares between the two forces. Had it not been for the impending battle that was soon to rage, it might have been an agreeable place to make camp for a hunting party or for a day of fishing on the river's banks. Perhaps he could have played his harp as the men feasted on deer and river trout. However, there would be no songs this night, with only a feast for crows. Rhaegar could already picture the trident turning crimson.

Rhaegar Targaryen, the Prince of Dragonstone, peered into the eyes of his men, and what he saw was nothing short of pure terror. While Rhaegar had been given nearly every abled body man that his father, King Aerys, could spare, he still doubted their victory.

It was no secret that the Targaryen army had yet to prove itself in battle, unlike that of the rebels across the ford. Rhaegar's band of men was mostly made of Sellswords and stable boys with a few knights scattered between them. He had the numbers over Robert, but his foe had experience and a will of iron since they had defeated Jon Connington at the battle of the bells. His men were afraid, they'd all heard the tales of the rebel army's victories and stories of Robert Baratheon. Seeing him atop a black horse shouting to his men around him, Rhaegar couldn't help but think that, thus far, Robert lived up to his legend. Men would speak of Robert's war-hammer, claiming it was as heavy as a mountain and that he swung it with the might of fifty men. Most would shit themselves at the prospect of fighting such a warrior, Rhaegar, however, was eager to be rid of him. The prince hoped that outnumbering Robert Baratheon by ten-thousand bodies would be enough.

The Targaryen prince often heard men saying that he was, perhaps, the greatest warrior his family had ever produced. Men said he could only be rivaled in Westeros by the likes of Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Barristan Selmy, the two greatest swordsmen in all the Seven Kingdoms, perhaps the world. He didn't believe for a moment he could stand against either outside of a Tourney, and while the prince possessed great skill with a sword, his preference had always been diplomacy. That option died the moment the King used wildfire to burn the late Rickard Stark alive.

Had it not been for Aerys, the war may have been averted, though in truth he too shouldered a share of the blame for this conflict. Rhaegar had fallen for the lovely Lyanna Stark, a woman promised the Robert and the only daughter of Rickard Stark, the late Warden of the North. He, a man married to Elia Martell of Dorne, a woman he couldn't bring himself to love despite the son and daughter she'd born him. Besides, Elia couldn't offer him a third child. Lyanna was both his love and soon would be the mother of the third head of the dragon.

He still remembered seeing Lyanna for the first time, at the Tourney of Harrenhal, she had been in a clunky suit of armor, holding a shield with a laughing tree painted upon its face. He could never hope to find any woman more interesting so long as he lived. Soon after, they had professed love for one another. After that, Lyanna had returned North, much to the dismay of Rhaegar. After only a short few months, the prince couldn't bear to be apart from his Lyanna any longer. So along with Arthur Dayne, he rode North and under the cover of night stole her away south.

He had hoped that it would have been the end of it and that he and his beloved Lyanna could have stayed there, but Brandon Stark road to King's Landing to demanded both the head of Rhaegar and the return of his little sister.

When Brandon Stark had ridden to King's Landing, he had unknowingly gone to his death, Rhaegar hadn't been there, and he had given his demands to a mad king. While Brandon had no doubt heard the rumors about his father's sickly mind, Brandon soon experienced the king's insanity first hand.

All those who'd come to the capital with Brandon were quickly executed, and the brazen Stark was taken captive. Soon after Brandon Stark's father, the Warden of the North Rickard Stark was called to King's Landing to answer for his son's crimes against the crown. Upon arriving, Lord Stark demanded a trial by combat, knowing that he would find no justice in the king's court, he was granted his request, and as his champion, the king chose fire. Brandon Stark had been forced to watch as his father was burned alive, his screams filling the hall as the Mad King laughed upon the Iron Throne; to further the younger Stark's pain, his sword had been put just out of his reach. It was said that Rickard's son had been choked to death by the cord that was clasped around his neck, all the while attempting to reach his sword in a vain attempt at saving his father from the green-blazed of the wildfire.

So much had happened since then. Now the acts of a madman had led to this very moment. Today, this war would be decided. They had long since gone past the point where diplomacy could avert what was to come. Rhaegar intended to end the rebellion here, and then, he intended to deal with the Mad King.

"Ser Lewyn has readied the Martell forces on our left flank, Your Highness." Rhaegar turned towards the harsh and yet comfortably familiar voice of Ser Barristan.

Barristan Selmy had given his life to protect the crown, and now he served in King Aerys II's Kingsguard. When Rhaegar was just a young boy, Ser Barristan was often given the task of protecting Rhaegar. While Ser Barristan was the eldest of the Kingsguard, he was also one of the deadliest, second only to perhaps Arthur Dayne. The Esteemed Knight had been ordered to follow the prince to the Trident for this very moment. It was the hope of many that his experience and skill with a blade might tip the tide of the battle itself.

"Good," Rhaegar nodded. "Perhaps his men will be the deciding factor in this battle, I could trust no one better to the task."

"Yes," Ser Barristan nodded in agreement. "They've seen battle before, unlike most of these men. Some of them look so green they'd probably piss grass." Rhaegar could only summon up a nervous chuckle, earning a slight smirk from the Knight.

"At least we have the numbers, though with what I've been told of our enemy-" Rhaegar trailed off, his eyes moving to his lap.

"They are indeed battle hardened. If we didn't have the numbers, we'd stand no chance against these lot." Ser Barristan admitted.

Rhaegar remained silent for a moment, only giving a quick nod in reply. Rhaegar could tell Ser Barristan noticed the far-off look in his eyes, it was a look he must have seen often in the eyes of men on the eve of battle. Though he was not afraid for himself, but for his children and Lyanna.

"Your Highness-" Ser Barristan began, but he was cut off by the thunder of war horns that echoed across the ford.

As soon as the blast of horns died, there came an eruption of shouts from the rebel army, the shouts were led by a man clad in yellow plate armor at the enemy front. He wielded a shield bearing the sigil of House Baratheon, a black stag on a yellow field, in one hand, and a thick steel hammer in the other. While his helm concealed his face, Rhaegar knew the man to be Robert Baratheon. It may have been the deaths of Starks that sparked the war, but it was Robert who was leading the rebellion. The Stag was after one thing, Rhaegar's head.

During the Stag's campaign against the throne, he had made it abundantly clear to the whole of the realm of his intention to remove the Targaryen's from power, by not only taking the dragons off the Iron Throne but from existence. The rebel leader, on several occasions, vowed to kill every dragon spawn he could get his hands on.

Upon seeing the Stag move to the head of his army, Rhaegar mirrored the move, urging his horse forward until he had made it to the front of his own force. Ser Barristan followed the prince, determined to make sure that the prince was protected as he tightly gripped the handle of his blade, ready to draw his weapon on a moment's notice. The rebels let loose another cry that echoed across the ford as they started forward.

It was like an avalanche, slow at first, but the rebel army was quickly gaining speed as the Stag himself, led the enemy charge. The site was terrifying, even for the prince, though he forced himself not to show it in times such as this.

Wherever Rhaegar looked he could see horses surging towards him, the men riding them looking eager for the clash that was soon to come. It wouldn't be long before they would meet in battle, then the song of war would ring throughout the landscape. Coming to his senses, Prince Rhaegar quickly shouted orders to his commanders to send forth a volley of arrows to meet the rebel's charge. The command was quickly relayed, and a black cloud of arrows was sent forth to meet the oncoming charge. The arrows, for a moment, seemed to hang in the air as though they might never fall from the sky, however, it wasn't long before the projectiles came crashing back to the earth. The moment the arrows started to land, riders and horses alike were sent crashing to the dirt and screams of dying men began to swell up. While at first, it appeared the volley had slowed the charge, the wall of men and horses quickly regained their momentum and continued barreling toward their line.

"Ready the charge!" Rhaegar shouted, drawing his sword. "We will send them into the stranger's cold embrace!" On his command, the Targaryen force let out their own battle cry. The men under his command seemed eager to fight for the prince, a man they hoped to see as their king once this nightmare was finished.

Grabbing his reins in one hand, Rhaegar took in a sharp breath and let out a loud cry, urging his steed forward, ready to meet Robert and his men in battle. The ride to meet the rebel army seemed to take an eternity. Everything was clear as he rode forward, the men around him and the enemy in front of him, and for a moment, it seemed like he would remain in that state until the end of time. However, as quickly as the feeling had come, it vanished, replaced instead with the feeling of chaos.

There was a sudden clash of steel and crushing of bodies as the two armies thundered against one another, it was something that Rhaegar could never hope to grow accustomed to. He found himself being swallowed whole by the roaring tide of battle. The screeching of dying horses along with the stench of cries from wounded men quickly filled the ford. Rhaegar was lost in the mess of battle, his sword flashing brilliantly as he slew every rebel that dared cross blades with him. A few times he had come close to being struck, but luck seemed to be with him as he was able to avoid the blows, having thus far only suffered a few minor bruises.

It wasn't long, however, before a spear was thrust deep into the side of his mount, sending the beast rearing back onto its hind legs, throwing the prince into the mud, his horse collapsing dead a few feet away. Fighting hard for air, Rhaegar had only seconds to get to his feet before the battle was upon him again. A brave, or rather foolish, man of House Stark rushed him with an ax held overhead. The prince was just able to sidestep the man's clumsy swing, which granted him an opening he used to impale the man with his blade, sending his bloodied enemy falling into the mud.

It seemed to only have been the start of the bloody battle. Once more Ser Barristan joined him at the front of the line where the two were thrown headfirst into the worst of the fighting. Pressing forward, the two cut a path through the enemy. They seemed like an unstoppable force upon the battlefield, splashing into the waters of the ford as their army forced the rebels back into the stream.

At some point, however, Rhaegar found Barristan had been forced from his side. Rhaegar couldn't quite recall when it had happened, as everything just seemed to blur together in this bloody mess. Regardless, Rhaegar was more concerned with leading the push than trying to find the old knight, he trusted Ser Barristan could take care of himself. Rhaegar imagined that if he just could break the Rebel center then he could rout his enemies, forcing them their surrender, and run them down if needed.

That was when Rhaegar saw Robert Baratheon sloshing through the water of the ford, his hammer swinging wildly, sending any man stupid enough to get in his way to their end. Gathering his strength, the prince pressed forward, determined to end the war here and now. Should he slay Robert, the Rebels would surely falter. Slaying two men in his way, the prince waded through the shallow waters, making his way toward the Rebel leader.

"Robert!" Rhaegar shouted, challenging the man.

Turning to the sound of his voice, Robert Baratheon yanked his helm off, revealing the man's face that was covered in a mix of blood and sweat.

"Fuckin' Dragon seed!" The Stormlord shouted back in reply.

The two men soon charged at one another, both ready to put an end to the battle with the death of the other. It only took a few strides before Rhaegar was swinging his sword downward with all his might, only for the blow to be blocked by the Baratheon's thick, oak shield. Pulling back his blade, Rhaegar was forced to backpedal as the Stag lifted his heavy war hammer in reply, sending the heavy steel weapon toward Rhaegar's head. The prince had only a moment to think as he swung his sword with just enough power to divert the blow to his right, causing a burst of water to shoot out of the blood-soaked river. Seeing an opening in the overextended Baratheon, Rhaegar drove his blade forth, scoring a gash to his enemy's side.

Howling, Robert reeled backward. However, the prince's enemy was quick to replace his pain with anger. Raging, the Stag's hammer was soon a blur as he unleashed an unrelenting attack. It was quickly evident to Rhaegar that he was doing all he could just to survive the man's vicious blows. Parrying the attacks took everything Rhaegar had, but he could tell the Baratheon was growing tired, though the prince wasn't in a good condition himself. Rhaegar, once again, saw the Stag overextend himself as he swung his hammer for the prince's side. Taking the opportunity, Rhaegar swung his sword hard, but the Stag lifted his shield in defense once more, but his blade splintered the oak shield, flinging it from Roberts grip into the ford. His enemy staggering, Rhaegar lifted his sword for a killing blow. With this, he would win the day, and after that, he would return home and deal with his father.

Except he never struck the blow. Out of seemingly nowhere, the prince felt a sharp pain burst from the small of his back, and for a moment, the prince was at a loss for what happened. That was until it occurred again, this time in his arm, forcing his blade from his hand. Rhaegar looked to his right arm, able to see the point of one of the two arrows that had struck him, the other being in his back.

Stumbling, the prince's vision was becoming blurred as blood freely flowed from his wounds. The prince had only just recovered enough to see the flash of Robert's hammer flying for his chest, the realization that he was powerless to stop the blow came over him. The moment it made contact, the prince felt his ribs shatter, air rushing from his collapsing lungs. Flying back, Rhaegar saw the flash of the rubies that had decorated his breastplate flying into the air before him as he fell into the cold water of the ford.

Rhaegar faintly realized he was about to die. The prince was only half aware as the Stag stood over him, his war hammer raised above his head to put an end to his already fading life. So close to death, Rhaegar could only think of one thing, and it filled him with more pain than anything the Robert could ever hope to inflict upon him. He would never see his love again, he would die here while she lay thousands of leagues away. His last thoughts where of how he should have never left her, he should have stayed with her, the war and the Iron Throne be damned.

"L-Lyanna..." Rhaegar choked out with his dying breath, his last thoughts fixed upon his Queen of Love and Beauty.

Then, Robert's hammer fell. So, it came to be that Rhaegar Targaryen, the Last Dragon, was no more.

Final Edited VR. (Aug 31, 2018)