"This is the prophecy of A Song of Ice and Fire."
Viserys patiently explained, "Before Aegon died, the last fire mage of Valyria hid his song within the dagger."
"Knowing this is both a responsibility and a heavy burden."
"It is more important than the throne and the king!"
As he spoke, he watched Rhaegar's every move.
Under the bright firelight, the shadows of father and son stretched long and distorted.
As the wind blew, the flames flickered, twisting their forms.
Rhaegar blinked, bewildered. "A Song of Ice and Fire? I thought that was just superstitious nonsense from books."
He did know of A Song of Ice and Fire.
When he had previously examined the dragonbone dagger, the system prompt had mentioned that the prophecy was recorded within it.
Moreover, the relic he had obtained was called **"The Warning of the Ancestors."**
Looking back now, it seemed to carry great significance.
Viserys spoke gravely, "The prophecy is real. I want you to remember it in your heart and always remain vigilant against the unknown darkness and the coming winter."
"I will, Father."
Though Rhaegar didn't fully understand, he sensed the gravity of the matter.
Viserys paced around the brazier, hesitating before saying, "I once asked Rhaenyra a question. Do you want to know what it was?"
"What was it?"
His father's words were growing more cryptic, and Rhaegar couldn't grasp their meaning, instinctively asking.
"It was about dragons—the way one perceives them."
Having come this far, Viserys saw no reason to stop and continued, "Dragons have been with House Targaryen since ancient Valyria. They are magnificent yet flawed creatures."
"What do you think of them?"
Rhaegar shook his head. "My dragon egg has yet to hatch, and my sister refuses to let me ride hers. The closest I've been to a dragon was Balerion's skull."
As a Targaryen, he had his own dragon egg.
It came from a great dragon named **Dreamfyre.**
Before he was born, Rhaenyra had personally chosen it from the Dragonpit.
Yet, after all these years, the egg showed no signs of hatching.
Viserys didn't seem to mind and simply pressed, "That doesn't matter. I just need you to tell me what you think of dragons."
Seeing his father's serious expression, Rhaegar knew this was important.
He recalled Balerion's enormous skull.
Even without scales and flesh, the sheer presence of the skull was overwhelming.
Then there was his own dragon egg, kept in a specially designed furnace. It was resistant to extreme heat, its texture unyielding.
It was nothing like the bird or chicken eggs he had seen before.
And finally, Rhaenyra.
At the age of seven, she had already mastered dragon-riding and become a dragonrider.
Whenever he saw her or was close to her, he could always catch a faint whiff of sulfur.
He knew—that was the scent of dragons.
After a moment of thought, Rhaegar composed his answer:
"Dragons are the most powerful controllable weapon in the world today. Even though Aegon the Conqueror possessed incredible wisdom and courage, it was only by riding a dragon that he unified the Seven Kingdoms."
"Dragons are dangerous, but only by mastering them can House Targaryen stand above ordinary men."
"Otherwise, we will surely fall from the Iron Throne."
This was his true belief.
And the most objective view he could currently express.
Viserys listened carefully, a trace of satisfaction appearing on his face, before asking again, "If one day you ride a great dragon and face a rebellion, how would you respond?"
"Burn them!"
Rhaegar answered without hesitation.
"You said dragons are dangerous?"
Viserys frowned.
Rhaegar saw nothing wrong with his response. "But without dragons, House Targaryen loses its power to intimidate the unruly."
"If necessary, dragonfire will eradicate those who refuse to submit, ensuring that Westeros speaks with one voice."
Upon hearing his eldest son's conviction, Viserys fell into silence.
Subjectively, Rhaegar wasn't wrong.
The Targaryens had become kings of the Seven Kingdoms largely thanks to their dragons.
But when Viserys thought of the prophecy of A Song of Ice and Fire…
He could not bring himself to rely on dragons too much.
Ghavaleria was consumed by the belief that mastering dragons could fulfill endless greed and desires, leading to a catastrophic disaster.
He recalled the evening years ago, just before naming Rhaenyra as his heir.
He had asked the same question then.
Rhaenyra's answer was almost identical to Rhaegar's initial response, but she had a deeper understanding of the bond between dragons and the Targaryens.
She didn't believe that mastering dragons meant gaining everything.
Her personality was much like her father, Viserys—averse to war and holding herself to strict standards.
In contrast, Rhaegar's response reminded him of someone else.
Daemon Targaryen.
His younger brother.
To be honest, there was a time when he had considered naming Daemon as his heir, despite all the dishonorable and disloyal acts Daemon had committed.
Daemon's view of dragons was extremely radical.
To him, dragons were merely swords in his hands.
And as the saying goes, "When one holds a weapon, the desire to kill arises."
With such a matchless weapon in his grasp, it was only a matter of time before Daemon would succumb to his desires and initiate war.
For some reason, jealousy welled up in Viserys' heart.
Amid Rhaegar's confused expression, he calmly said, "I understand your point. Don't forget the prophecy of the Song of Ice and Fire. Go and rest for now."
Rhaegar, without questioning further, responded respectfully, "All right. You should drink less wine, Father."
Viserys smiled kindly and watched as his son left the tent.
Under the dim light of the fire, his face appeared blurred.
---
Outside the tent, the midday sun shone on Rhaegar's face, forcing him to squint his eyes against the glare.
A shadow fell over him, shielding him from the blinding light.
"Ser Arryk."
Rhaegar tilted his head and saw the one blocking the sun.
Ser Arryk held up part of his white cloak to shield the young prince's head. With genuine sincerity, he said, "Thank you for pleading on my brother's behalf, Your Highness."
Rhaegar gently shook his head. "Don't say that. It was I who forced Erryk to take me out of the camp. He shouldn't have to bear the blame."
"The Kingsguard obeys the king's commands. My brother's failure to uphold his duty was a grave mistake," Arryk replied, keenly aware of the prince's importance in the king's eyes and treating him with great respect.
"Where is Ser Erryk?" Rhaegar changed the subject.
Arryk replied, "There was some commotion near the camp's entrance just now, so he went to investigate."
"A commotion? Then I'll go take a look too."
Rhaegar seemed intrigued but still reminded him, "My father is still inside the tent. Please keep an eye out, Ser Arryk."
"It is my duty."
Arryk raised his hand in salute.
---
Away from the royal tent, Rhaegar didn't immediately head toward the commotion.
Instead, he wandered over to the dessert and roasted meat tables, picking and choosing until he was about 70% full.
Having traveled all morning, he had only managed a few sips of water.
Poor kid—motherless and often neglected.
"Rhaegar!"
While waiting at a grill, a familiar voice called out from behind him.
Rhaegar turned around and was startled.
Rhaenyra stood there, covered in blood. Her silver hair was stained dark by the dried blood, as though she had just come back from a fierce battle.
"Rhaenyra! What happened to you?"
Rhaegar forgot all about his roasted meat and ran over on his short legs.
"I came looking for you yesterday but couldn't find you," Rhaenyra said, flicking him on the forehead as she scolded, "You should call me 'Sister.' Rhaenyra is not how you should address me, and you shouldn't be running around unsupervised."
"Now's not the time to worry about formalities! Are you hurt? Is it serious?"
Rhaegar anxiously checked her for injuries.
Rhaenyra lifted his chin proudly and said, "This isn't my blood. I'm not hurt."
(End of Chapter)