We Bleed Silver(GOT/ASOIAF Fanfic)

"Hey, hey, can you hear me, my eldest son? Well, even if you can, you can't respond, so let's just assume you're listening."

The moment the Binding Stone shattered, Draezell felt the surge of shadows that engulfed both him and Vermithor. Yet, there was no sense of harm or any eerie curse—the magic in his blood would have reacted otherwise.

Vermithor also projected a feeling akin to, "What the hell just happened? But I guess I'm fine."

Draezell wasn't sure how he could discern such vivid emotions from a dragon, but perhaps it was due to his own unique nature. No matter, he had more pressing questions—namely, what strange thing his father had left behind this time.

Then, he witnessed an extraordinary sight.

The obscuring shadows receded, revealing a clear and open view. Vermithor glided smoothly through the air, the sky bright and cloudless. Below stretched vast plains and rivers cutting through the landscape.

Marching along one of the rivers was a massive army. Draezell squinted, trying to make out their banners and appearance. His sharp instincts quickly deduced he was under some kind of illusion, though it didn't seem immediately threatening.

"My son, this is our House heirloom," came the voice of Claelorius, his father. "Your grandfather and great-grandfather treasured this artifact. I had no idea what it was until a shadowbinder from Asshai identified it. Turns out, those practitioners of life and shadow magic crafted these Binding Stones to preserve the echoes of our ancestors—both the riders and their dragons."

Claelorius paused for a moment.

"If you're lucky enough to tame a fully-grown dragon, the stone shatters and releases these ancestral shadows. They let you experience firsthand the might of your forebears, whether in dragon warfare or noble duels from Valyria. These artifacts were used to train heirs who managed to tame an adult dragon, ensuring they became true Dragonlords and warriors. I never thought you'd get a chance to experience this... especially in this world. Alright, I'll stop rambling now. Get ready. Even back in Valyria's prime, this was a rare treasure."

Draezell shook off his father's voice and refocused on the scene below. The army by the river came into sharper focus. The warriors, with olive-toned skin, black hair, and slender builds, marched with unshakable determination and fervor. They wore iron armor, carried fine weapons, and exuded a high morale. Among them stood figures in strange garb, their presence emanating waves of magical power that enveloped the army.

"Rhoynar soldiers," Draezell muttered, recognizing their origin.

"Roar!"

Vermithor let out a sudden, fierce growl. Draezell turned to see what had drawn the dragon's attention. The air filled with a chorus of dragon roars.

Emerging from the clouds came dragons of various sizes. Some were nearly as massive as Vermithor, others smaller but equally ferocious, and a few even larger. The lead dragon, a colossal beast at least twice Vermithor's size, dove headlong toward the Rhoynar forces below.

On its back sat a Dragonlord, their features obscured, who raised a horn and blew a resounding call to arms.

Draezell gripped Vermithor's bone spike tightly. "Vermithor, dive!"

The bronze dragon roared in response, folding its massive wings and plummeting toward the battlefield below.

Vermithor folded its wings tightly, diving alongside the other dragons.

The Rhoynar sorcerers chanted incantations, causing the river to surge backward. A massive torrent of water shot skyward, forming an immense waterspout that rose between the dragons and the Rhoynar warriors.

"Dracarys."

Countless voices echoed the command, and an inferno of dragonflame erupted.

The largest dragon led the assault, unleashing a pale blast of fire that slammed into the waterspout. The river began to boil away, and thick white steam engulfed the battlefield, veiling the sky and land beneath a blinding haze.

Rhoynar archers raised their bows, launching arrows imbued with water magic at the descending dragons. Draezell felt as if an unseen hand guided him, effortlessly maneuvering Vermithor to dodge the incoming arrows while raining fire upon the waterspout.

Three hundred dragons roared as one, unleashing torrents of flame. Even the mighty Rhoyne River, with all its vast waters, could not withstand the onslaught. Draezell watched as Vermithor's flames tore through the dissipating waterspout, the residual firestorm consuming a cluster of Rhoynar soldiers beneath the mist in an instant, reducing them to ash.

Similar scenes unfolded across the battlefield. Despite their heavy losses, the Rhoynar soldiers stood resolute, raising bows and spears to strike at the dragonlords above.

Their defiance, however, was met only with more dragonfire.

Draezell cautiously steered Vermithor in wide circles high above, occasionally releasing bursts of dragonflame onto scattered groups of soldiers, careful not to descend too close to the range of arrows. Many other dragons also maintained their distance, preferring to unleash their fury from above. Only the truly colossal dragons dared to dive near the ground, hunting the Rhoynar forces with fearless aggression.

After Vermithor scorched dozens more Rhoynar soldiers, it beat its wings and climbed higher.

Suddenly, Draezell's vision blurred. The scene before him began to shift once again.

This time, Draezell found himself atop one of Valyria's soaring towers. Across from him, a massive brown dragon, nearly the same size as Vermithor, hovered in the air. Its rider shouted something, but Draezell couldn't hear a word.

Then the brown dragon lunged at Vermithor.

"A dragon duel?"

The now-familiar sensation of someone guiding him returned. Draezell instinctively gripped the bone spur he used as a makeshift saddle. At the last moment before impact, Vermithor dove sharply downward, dodging the assault. The brown dragon flapped its wings desperately to halt its momentum.

Vermithor abruptly surged upward, its head snapping back toward the opponent. In a swift, calculated move, it reversed direction, slamming into the brown dragon's head. Vermithor's claws raked across the rival dragon's skull, leaving a deep gash.

"Vermithor, Dracarys!"

The brown dragon roared in defiance, retaliating with a burst of flame that collided mid-air with Vermithor's own fire. The fiery explosion sent burning embers raining down. The brown dragon's rider shielded their eyes from the searing heat, momentarily unable to guide their mount.

Despite its rider's distraction, the brown dragon lashed out instinctively, its claws colliding violently with Vermithor's. Both dragons grappled ferociously in mid-air, leaving long scratches on each other's scales.

Spiraling downward in a deadly dance, the two dragons continued their relentless assault, their flames roaring without pause as each sought to dominate the other.

"Vermithor, attack the abdomen!"

At that moment, the brown dragon exposed a fatal weakness—it revealed its underbelly.

Seizing the opportunity, Vermithor swiped its claws forcefully, breaking through the brown dragon's defenses and raking its vulnerable abdomen. Deep gashes appeared, and blood spilled freely from the wounds.

However, the brown dragon retaliated fiercely, leaving scratches on Vermithor's body as well, though they were far less severe than the devastating injuries Vermithor had inflicted.

The brown dragon let out a deafening roar of pain, while its rider shouted commands in desperation.

"Vermithor, strike the neck!"

Vermithor roared in response, lunging forward with ferocious precision.

Hot blood sprayed across the air.

With a bone-crunching bite, Vermithor clamped down on the brown dragon's neck, sealing its fate.

And then, the world around Draezell began to dissolve once more into a hazy blur.