The Wild Dragon.

Part 7.

Rhaegar's Pov,

Keeping my head high as I hold the reins of my horse in one hand while I sit on the White Hart with a Nyra ridding her horse besides me I think all jaws just dropped as we make our way into the camp.

"Aawh, the faces are priceless." I say with a grin as we make our way further into the camp.

"I think Otto is fuming like a dragon right now." Nyra says, and I look in the direction of Otto Hightower, who indeed looks as if he might start spewing fire my way any second.

Coming to a stop 10 yards in front of the table, Father and his family are sitting, I dismount the White Hart, and run my hand over his fur. 

"Are you proud now?" I say with a raised brow as I look at father who looks shock written right now.

Turning around, I look at the camp who's still looking at me and the White Hart and wel Nyra, I'm standing here without a shirt covered in blood, and she's also covered in blood. So yes, they are looking and mumbling between another. Good let them fucking mumble.

"If anyone harms the White Hart, they'll become Diaval's next meal." I loudly say before walking away in search for a maester and preferably not the one who cut open my mother.

.................

"Your grace it needs to be stitched." Maester Mellos says, and I scoff at his words. He's the only Maester I've found so far, and I've been looking for some time.

"Not by you, at least." I mumble as I start walking away from him, but soon, of course, a voice stops me.

"Sit down Rhaegar let Mellos stitch your wound before you get an infection. " Father says as he walks into the tent and motions at his chair.

Shaking my head, I walk over to him and grab his dagger from his belt before walking towards a torch.

"What are you doing ?"

"My prince, please."

They both say as I continue to hold the blade into the flames. Taking my shirt that was wrapped around me off with one hand, I see words appear on the blade, making me raise my brow.

"From my blood come the prince that was promised, and his will be the song of ice and fire." I say with wide eyes as I look at the flaming red dagger.

Taking a deep breath, I place the hot blade against the cut on my side before I grind my teeth together as groans leave my lips while the hot blade closes the cut while the smell of burning flesh fills my nose.

"Rhaegar!" Father yells as I drop the blade into the ground while sweat runs down my body as I take some heavy breaths.

"I-im fine," I groan out as I wipe the sweat from my forehead.

"Fine! You're too stubborn to accept help, and so you burn yourself to close a wound!" Father almost yells at me and

"I don't wish to have the man who cut my mother open like a pig to touch me. The wound is closed. Isn't that what was going to happen either way?" I state as I look at him with a clenched jaw from the pain coursing through my body.

"Seven hells Rhaegar! You are stubborn! Arrogant! You think you're above the law, and yet you believe you're what the realm needs!" He jells at me, and I scoff at his words.

"You are weak. You'd rather have this make-believe of peace in your head than grow a pair of balls and do something about, for instance, the Step Stones, or Daemon, who's truly arrogant!" I bite back before I'm met with a hard slap against my cheek, making my head turn to the side.

"I am still your king!" Father bites my way as I wipe the blood from my lip and look at him with probably daggers shooting  his way.

"Indeed, so if you'd please excuse me. Your grace." I say with a bow before walking out of the tent.

Making my way out indeed once again all eyes are on me but I raise my brow as the White Hart is still here and now slowly walks over to me with its head high, holding my own head high i walk over to it before mounting it.

"Are you alright?" Tommen soflty asks with a frown as he walks over to me. "I'm fine. Just if anybody asks, I went back to the red Keep already."

"You sure by uhm the sound of it things already weren't pleasant if you leave now it probably won't make it better." Tommen says, and I give him a shrug.

"I'm not in the mood for another shouting contest, I'm going to my bed." I say before nudging the White Hart forward who starts running out of the camp.

...............

Coming to a stop outside of Diaval's cave, I quickly dismount the White Hart before the giant head of Diaval comes out.

"He's a friend, so I swear to all gods Diaval eat him, and you'll never get a horse again." I state as I raise my brow at the dragon who huffs before laying his head down.

Walking past him and into the large cave, I practically run over to the 2 large chests that are being lit by some small holes in the roof of the den.

Grabbing the spear behind the chests, I make my way out of the cave again with a shake of my head.

I've seen those words on the dagger before, I've seen them on this spear. And now I'll probably have to talk with my father about what he knows about it.

Sliding down a tree, I look the spear over with a sigh.

"From my blood come the prince that was promised, and his will be the song of ice and fire." I mumble to myself as I lean my head back against the tree.

What does it even mean? Like yeah a descendant of whoever made the spear and dagger but the song of ice and fire?

When I think if ice it's well, the North and the Starks have been kings of the North long before we came, and they bent the knee, but then why was this spear in old Valyria? The dagger also comes from there.

If it has something to do with the North, wouldn't it be there? And for the fire part, the first thing that comes in mine are the Targaryen's because of our dragons, but yet there were more families in old Valyria who were dragon riders

We were just the only ones who survived the doom and the events that happened after that. All because we left Valyria and settled on Dragon Stone is why we lived, because Daenyes the dreamer had a vision about the doom of Valyria that's why Aenar gathered his family, servants and belongings before leaving the place.

Just weird, was this spear once of my ancestors or not? Not much is known about the other dragon lords. Well, practically nothing we know the Targaryen's were minor lords, but look at us now King's and Queen's.

Shaking my head, I slowly get up before walking over to Diaval and petting his snout.

"I'll be back soon. Just don't get in any trouble. I'm already in enough."  I say with a soft smile, making him purr before I walk towards the White Hart and mount it.

Nudging him forward, he starts to run towards hopefully the Red keep while I hold the spear in one hand and my other holds onto the fur in his neck that's slightly longer in hopes I don't fucking fly off.

Authors Note,

Shorter chapter, but still, leave a vote and comment ❤️