Ours is the Fury
The battle of the Trident was raging fiercely, both sides smashing themselves against each other for control of the river. The banks and waters were gory red as the mangled disorder of soldiers hacked and stabbed and smashed at each other, trying to kill which ever enemy was within sight.
Elsewhere in the field, some warriors were preforming acts of note. Commander Barrestan Semly was cornered against twenty rebel knights, likely making his last stand. Ser Jonothor Darry had slain an Umber, and was now himself being cut down by Jon Arryn. Ser Lewyn Martell was already dead, his throat opened by Lyn Corbray in a charge which broke the Dornish Infantry.
Most were just trying to kill whichever enemy was closest. Cavalrymen with lances rode down smallfolk levies and archers let loose stinging volleys at their fleeing enemies.
Not Robert Baratheon; while he was killing many enemy soldiers there was only one target he had on his mind.
As he smacked off the head of a crownland knight with his hammer, he saw who he was after.
Rhaegar Targaryen, son of Aerys Targaryen and heir to the Iron Throne. That is what loyalists saw when they looked upon the prince: not Robert. The only thing Robert saw was a white haired monster who kidnapped and raped the woman he loved.
Just the sight of this man made Robert's blood boil with a beastly wrath that gave meaning to the words of his house.
Robert only whispered this one word of anger before charging at the man, his heart filled with a righteous fury even The Gods can not match. Driving through the ranks of Targaryen soldiers, Robert hacked down a path to his sworn foe.
Rhaegar Targaryen stood at the other end of the field, black of armor and even more so of heart. The Crown Prince raised his sword for battle.
They met and raised weapons for battle. Rhaegar and Robert traded blow for blow, each attempting to subdue the other. However, Robert fought with a fury which could only be born personally.
You are a monster! You raped my beloved and I will make you pay! The Seven Hells are too good for scum like you.
Robert was so enraged he spat out his words with a seething fire, though he was sure the Dragon Prince heard him. "You know what you did! Admit it you raper!"
As Robert said this, he let out a great roar which boomed from the fields and echoed out for all to hear.
Trading blow for blow, Robert Baratheon and Rhaegar Targaryen struggled against each other in a duel to the death.
Robert then unleashed all his hatred and wrath, swinging his hammer into Rhagear's chest with all his might. The chest plate was caved in, as was the torso underneath. Twisting his hammer in his hand, he drove the spike that topped the shaft of the hammer through his sworn enemy. The spike broke through Rhaegar's shattered armor and drove into his black heart.
Obstructed by his helmet, it was impossible to know what his last thoughts were. His lungs were too bloodied for him to utter any word at all, and it is unlikely he would remember to anyway.
However, what Robert Baratheon could see was the look in Prince Rhaegar's eyes as the life drained out of him. There seemed to be panic and fear, but what else was there? Remorse? Sorrow? Surprise?
It matters not; even if Rhaegar threw down his sword and yielded I would have ended his pathetic life all the same.
His head slumped forward, he lost his footing, and a dead Prince Rhaegar fell backwards and sank into the waters of the Trident. Into the murky, sloshing waters; normally a dark blue, now a brownish-blackish color due to the blood and gore spilt into it.
Gripping his hammer, Robert stepped upon Rhaegar's corpse as he headed towards the next foe. Now he had to win the war.
I'm coming Lyanna.