hotmtlnovel Chapter 189: The Strange Wounds Caused by the Iron Throne
Chapter 189: The Strange Wounds Caused by the Iron Throne
Chapter 189: The Strange Wounds Caused by the Iron Throne
Rhaenyra suddenly stopped, her smile fading as she turned away.
"What's wrong?" Rhaegar asked, concerned.
"Nothing, just... turn around first," Rhaenyra replied, her ears turning red as she awkwardly covered her chest with both hands.
"Did you bump into something?" Rhaegar asked, moving closer in curiosity.
"Rhaegar, you're too close," Rhaenyra said, her expression a mix of embarrassment and annoyance.Gét latest novel chapters on nov(e)lbj/n(.)c/om
Rhaegar blinked, clearly confused. "I don't understand."
Rhaenyra glared at him. "It's your fault, I'm flustered."
With that, she kicked him lightly and walked towards the castle alone, leaving Rhaegar puzzled and wondering what he had done wrong.
...
The Banquet Hall
Viserys leaned back in his chair, his eyes full of anticipation. Musicians played soft tunes on either side of the hall, and a small dwarf, dressed as a pirate with a large head, performed comically.
The sound of footsteps approaching from around the corner drew the attention of everyone in the room.
Viserys looked up and immediately became excited. "Rhaegar, Rhaenyra!"
"Father!" they both exclaimed.
Now dressed in their formal black garments, Rhaenyra and Rhaegar stepped forward hand in hand.
"My children, how was your trip to the Vale?" Viserys asked, rising to greet them with a smile.
The siblings exchanged a brief glance. Rhaenyra smiled softly and spread her hands. "Yes. The Mountain Clans were stopped and the fleet from Gulltown was sent to the Stepstones."
...
Nightfall.
In the king's bedchamber, Viserys sat on the edge of the bed, painstakingly removing his shirt, revealing the wounds covering his body.
"Ha, aren't these wounds a sight?" he grimaced in pain as his clothes rubbed against the cuts, looking to his son, Rhaegar, for reassurance.
Rhaegar stood behind him, silent, a thousand words stuck in his throat.
Memories flooded back of his father's injuries, including the loss of two fingers to the Iron Throne when he was young. His father had always hidden his pain, shielding him from the severity of his wounds.
Now faced with the truth, Rhaegar struggled to maintain composure. "No, you've endured these wounds with the resilience of a true warrior," he said, reaching out to touch his father's weathered skin.
Viserys shook his head, chuckling softly. "No need for flattery, son. I know these wounds are not pretty."
He knew it from the strain in his relationship with Alicent. Despite her silence, he felt her resistance and rejection, otherwise she wouldn't be so dry, even after they had spent so much time together at night.
Rhaegar's smile faded as he sat beside his father. "I will help heal your wounds and restore your health," he vowed solemnly, extending his hand and invoking the "Bridled Serpent" rune.
A serpent emerged from the black smoke, slithering into Viserys's wounds. With each passing moment, the serpent grew slightly larger and more agile, consuming the black smoke that lingered in the wounds.
But one wound, near his vertebrae, stubbornly resisted healing, emitting a foul odor. Despite the serpent's efforts, a trace of black smoke persisted.
Confusion clouded Rhaegar's eyes as he observed the stubborn wound. It was then that he noticed something remarkable—the wound was not only healing but regenerating, leaving behind only a delicate bloodstain.
Yet, the black smoke lingered, refusing to dissipate entirely.
Viserys sighed in relief, feeling the burden of his injuries lift. "What's troubling you, Rhaegar?" he inquired, sensing his son's hesitation.
Rhaegar hesitated before responding, "It's nothing, Father."
Despite the serpent's efforts, the wounds, regardless of severity, remained coated in a thin layer of black smoke, resisting complete healing. The cuts persisted.