We Bleed Silver(GOT/ASOIAF Fanfic)

The two young boys ran eagerly out of the courtyard, ready to mount their dragons and set off. After a moment of contemplation, Rhaenyra, supported by her handmaid Elinda Massey, walked over to Draezell. "Prince, may I trouble you to escort my son to the North?"

Draezell looked at the newly crowned queen and nodded. "I had already planned to do so. Jacaerys is my squire; protecting him is my duty."

"As a mother, I thank you for looking after Jacaerys and Lucerys," Rhaenyra said softly. "As a queen, I also hope you will help him fulfill his mission."

"I understand," Draezell said with a slight bow before heading out. His dragon was on the beach, a short distance from the castle, so he would need to ride quickly to catch up with the young dragons.

"Prince Draezell," Queen Rhaenyra called after him, her tone now commanding. "I appoint you as Warden of the Borderlands and Commander of the South. Upon your return to Dragon's Nest, you will oversee all military operations in the Reach, the Stormlands, the Borderlands, and Dorne."

Draezell nodded, taking a warhorse from one of the Dragonstone guards. Without hesitation, he rode toward the beach, where Vermithor awaited him. The great dragon lifted its head, glancing at the two young dragons already in flight. Sensing its rider's approach, Vermithor began crawling toward the castle, meeting Draezell halfway.

With a thunderous roar, Vermithor spread its wings and soared northward.

"Your Majesty, I must leave as well," Daemon said, taking Rhaenyra's hand and placing a light kiss upon it.

"May you return victorious," Rhaenyra replied, offering a kiss on his cheek.

Daemon smiled, retrieving Dark Sister from a squire and jogging toward the dragonmount. Moments later, the slender and serpent-like Caraxes took to the skies, hissing as it climbed through the clouds.

---

King's Landing, Red Keep

King Aegon sat in his council chamber, his face dark with anger as he read the message brought by a raven from Dragonstone.

It was simple yet incendiary. The first message declared to all lords, knights, and commonfolk that Otto Hightower, Alicent Hightower, and Criston Cole had betrayed their king and were oathbreakers cursed by the gods. However, Rhaenyra, in her magnanimity, offered clemency to her half-siblings—provided they came to Dragonstone, knelt, and admitted their wrongs. After all, they shared Targaryen blood, and kinslaying was the gravest of all sins.

The second message followed swiftly: Draezell publicly declared his support for Rhaenyra's claim to the throne and announced his participation in her coronation.

"Traitors! They are committing treason!" Aegon exclaimed, but his bravado faltered as a cold sweat formed on the back of his neck. He wasn't a fool—despite his love of wine and women, he could still do simple arithmetic. If Draezell had joined Rhaenyra's faction, the Blacks now possessed five fully grown dragons and four young ones capable of fighting in the skies.

"Seven hells…" Aegon muttered, unable to voice his initial thought of cutting off their heads. Instead, he slumped into the Iron Throne with a heavy sigh.

"Hiss—" As soon as he sat down, Aegon winced, feeling a sharp sting. Raising his hand, he noticed a blade had nicked his finger, drawing blood. The cut wasn't deep, but crimson droplets began to drip. Quickly, Aegon sucked the wound, scowling in irritation. The injury was minor, but it added to his mounting frustrations. With nothing else to do, he remained seated in the empty throne room, lost in thought.

---

Vermithor quickly caught up to Vermax, though this was only because Jacaerys, noticing Draezell's pursuit, had deliberately slowed his pace.

"My lord, why are you following us?" Jacaerys shouted, his voice carried by the wind.

"Your mother sent me!" Draezell yelled back, his voice equally loud, as Vermithor roared in tandem and aligned itself alongside Vermax.

Dragonstone wasn't far from the Eyrie. With the two dragons flying in tandem, they soon crossed Gulltown, the port city quickly disappearing below. Before long, the towering peaks of the Mountains of the Moon came into view, and the familiar sight of the Giant's Lance dominated the horizon.

"Look below, my lord! An army!" Jacaerys suddenly pointed downward, drawing Draezell's attention.

Draezell adjusted Vermithor's reins, signaling the dragon to fly lower. Sure enough, below them was a small but well-equipped army encamped before the Moon Gate. They bore the banners of a golden eagle, seemingly oblivious to the dragons circling high above.

---

"Jeyne, this is for your own good." Ardent persuasion laced the voice of Emer Arryn as he addressed the expressionless woman standing atop the walls of the Moon Gate. Lady Jeyne Arryn, thirty-five years old, had ruled the Vale since her father and brother were slain by the Stone Crows, a mountains Clan. Her control over the region had remained unyielding—until today.

The "Maid of the Vale," her golden hair embodying her Andal heritage, still retained her beauty despite the passage of time. Yet years of rule had etched an unshakable dignity into her demeanor, a commanding presence that became even more pronounced when she cast her gaze upon the so-called "kin" gathered below.

Beside her stood Ser Joffrey Arryn, clad in gleaming plate armor, his sworn sword at the ready. Alongside him was Lord Artis Royce, whose reputation preceded him.

It was thanks to Lord Artis that Lady Jeyne Arryn could hold her ground with confidence. The Lord of Runestone had brought 700 well-armed knights of the Vale, while Ser Joffrey commanded 500 crossbowmen under his banner.

"King Aegon is the true king," Emer Arryn declared, his tone heavy with desperation. "The king has promised to recognize your rule over the Vale, so long as you kneel to him. Cousin, it's time to wake up and face reality."

"Dragon!" The terrified cry from below cut Emer short. The elderly patriarch of the Golden Eagle turned his gaze skyward just in time to see an enormous shadow descending rapidly.

Before he could utter another word, Vermithor crashed into the midst of his army, the impact sending men and horses sprawling. Emer himself didn't even have a moment to scream before the dragon's massive claws crushed him into the rocky earth.

Vermithor roared, the sound reverberating across the vale, and with a single sweep of its tail, sent another group of soldiers flying. Screams of terror and cries for mercy erupted from the encampment.

"So...this is a dragon?" Ser Joffrey muttered, his throat dry as he stared at the mountain of scales that had just arrived.

"Yes," Lady Jeyne replied, her voice devoid of emotion as her gaze remained fixed on the scene below.

The remaining soldiers broke ranks, fleeing in panic, abandoning banners and weapons in their haste. Vermithor snarled once before settling down. Overhead, Vermax circled briefly before landing atop the Moon Gate's walls.

Prince Jacaerys slid deftly from Vermax's back, landing with practiced ease. He strode confidently toward the Lady of the Vale and offered her a courteous bow.

"Lady Jeyne Arryn, I come as the emissary of my mother, Rhaenyra Targaryen, first of her name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men." His voice carried the practiced politeness of a diplomat, though his piercing gaze remained steady upon the Lady.

---

Elsewhere.

Lightning crackled across the storm-filled skies, its flickering light illuminating the round towers of Storm's End. The torrential rain lashed down, soaking Lucerys Velaryon to the bone as Arrax struggled against the howling winds, finally landing on the castle's courtyard with a resounding thud.

Lucerys wiped the water from his face and slid down from his dragon's back, his boots splashing into the flooded stone ground.

Arrax suddenly let out a guttural roar, his head snapping toward a shadowed corner of the courtyard.

Following the sound, Lucerys turned to see what had drawn the dragon's attention.

A hulking shadow slowly rose from the darkness.

Vhagar.

Lucerys instantly recognized the ancient, monstrous dragon.