We Bleed Silver(GOT/ASOIAF Fanfic)

"Then it's decided." Aemond tapped the map. "We prepare to withdraw from King's Landing immediately."

"I'll convince Helaena," Aegon finally found something he could contribute. "For the sake of the children, she will fight for us."

"And the Queen heading to the South can also protect Prince Daeron." Tyland sighed. "Prince Daeron has only a small dragon. If Draezell chooses to open a front in the south, an extra dragon will improve our chances."

"Ser Criston, Ser Tyland, you will lead the forces north. The King and I will cover you with our dragons. Lord Jasper, Lord Larys, Maester Orwyle—if Rhaenyra enters King's Landing, you must also make your escape quickly." Aemond sighed, finalizing the plan.

The council chamber fell silent once again.

---

The Maegor's Holdfast

Aegon cautiously entered his wife's room, a place he hadn't visited in a long time. As he pushed the door open, he saw Helaena already packing their belongings. Their three children were dressed and ready. Jaehaerys stood bewildered beside his twin sisters, clutching his baby brother Maelor in his arms, as he stared at his father and his mother, who had just finished tying the last bundle.

"Helaena—"

"I already know," Helaena interrupted, glancing at Aegon. "War between kin is the greatest abomination in the eyes of the gods, and so too is war between dragons. Aemond is a kinslayer, Aegon, and you bear responsibility as well."

"Now is not the time for this, Helaena." Aegon sat beside her. "We need you and Dreamfyre. The children need you too. Aemond hopes you'll fight for us… I want you to take the children to Oldtown. It's safer than King's Landing. Your grandfather's family will arrange for the children to go somewhere even safer."

Helaena gazed quietly into Aegon's eyes, though Aegon found it difficult to meet her stare.

"I will not let Dreamfyre burn innocent people." Helaena's voice was calm but firm. "I am no warrior. I will take the children to Oldtown." Without another word, the Queen lifted Jaehaerys into her arms. "Aegon, I hope you and Aemond take responsibility for what you've done."

Aegon said nothing.

---

The Vale, Gates of the Moon

Lady Jeyne Arryn did not bring Draezell and Jacaerys to the Eyrie. She knew she couldn't stop two dragonriders from flying there, so she resolved to negotiate matters right here, where it could be concluded swiftly.

"Prince, my lord, I thank you for coming." Lady Jeyne stepped out of the Gates of the Moon with Artis Royce by her side. She stopped in front of Vermithor, though she understood that it was Draezell, wielding absolute force, who would dictate the negotiations—not Jacaerys, who merely spoke on his mother's behalf. "Your dragon has solved a great trouble for me, my lord."

"The Golden Eagle of Gulltown?" Vermithor shifted slightly, revealing the bloody remains beneath its claws. Draezell noticed the tattered flag of the Golden Eagle. "I've heard of them—a cadet branch of House Arryn, wealthy and skilled at trade. My family's merchant ships have traded with them before."

Jacaerys dismounted from Vermax, producing a letter. "Lady Jeyne, I come on behalf of my mother, Rhaenyra Targaryen, Queen Rhaenyra the First of House Targaryen."

"I know why you've come, Prince," Lady Jeyne Arryn took the letter without breaking its wax seal. "As you can see, my rule has not been secure. My kin have thrice challenged my inheritance and legitimacy. My cousin, Ser Arnold, often proclaims that women are too weak to rule. He has coveted my position for a long time. Alas, he now keeps company with the birds in the Eyrie's sky cells. I trust he can govern those charming creatures well enough."

Lady Jeyne moved to stand beside Jacaerys, who had grown taller than her already. The Maiden of the Vale, as she was known, seemed wholly uninterested in the boy, who was twenty-one years her junior. She merely observed the prince's brown-black hair with mild curiosity.

The prince bore her gaze with composure.

"To be frank, I do not care for your stepfather. He wronged his first wife, and so I cannot commend your mother's taste in men. But that does not alter my oath, Prince." Lady Jeyne's eyes turned toward Draezell, perched atop Vermithor.

Draezell, in turn, studied the Maiden of the Vale with interest. Despite her age, Jeyne Arryn retained the beauty of her younger years. As the Vale's ruler, she remained childless, and her favored heir appeared to be Ser Joffrey Arryn. Yet the matter of succession in the Vale was far from settled—perhaps with more intriguing twists yet to come.

He idly rubbed at the guard of his saddle. Skipping the Vale during the great progress now seemed like an unfortunate oversight. At that moment, Artis Royce approached Vermithor, though the great dragon paid no mind to such a small creature. Draezell, however, found some interest in the young man.

After all, anyone capable of defeating Sebastian in the tourney had to possess some skill. Though clearly, this was not yet the moment for Artis to speak.

"Rhaenyra is my rightful queen. She is my kin, and it is only proper that we aid one another—especially in this world of men," Jeyne said, fixing her gaze on Draezell. "I envy Lady Diana. At least her husband does not see himself as a god merely for having a dragon, nor does he treat her as some dispensable plaything."

"Diana is my wife. I suggest you choose your words carefully," Draezell replied, his voice steady. Beneath him, Vermithor let out a deep, rumbling snort, though the dragon refrained from causing any destruction.

Lady Jeyne finally smiled. "It seems I was not wrong—Lady Dyanna is indeed far luckier than Lady Rhea ever was. Prince, the Vale and its knights will support Her Majesty's cause. But we require time to muster our armies and gather provisions."

She continued, "The Vale can provide the Queen with twenty thousand men, including five thousand knights. However, we will need time. In the meantime, Lord Artis may lead fifteen hundred riders into the Riverlands ahead of the main force."

"Name your terms, my lady," Draezell replied, recognizing that everything Lady Jeyne had said thus far was prelude to negotiation. It was better to lay it all out now.

"Prince, the Vale requires the protection of a dragonrider," Jeyne declared. "The Vale fears no armies. For centuries, whether they were the wolves of the North or kings of the Riverlands, all have broken themselves upon the Gates of the Moon. We fear no navies either. Gulltown's fleet may be small, but our port allows us to hold our own. What the Vale fears, Prince, are dragons."

She met Draezell's gaze. "I despise the feeling of helplessness, and I will not see myself end up like my cousin in the sky cells. We need the protection of a dragonrider."

"We will ensure the Vale has the protection of a dragonrider," Jacaerys answered promptly. "It is the king's duty to defend his vassals."

With that, Jeyne knelt before Jacaerys, and her bannermen followed suit, kneeling before the dragons and presenting their swords in fealty.

Both dragons soon took to the skies once more. After meeting with the Sunderland marquis on the Three Sisters, they flew to Winterfell. At Sisterton, they received ravens from Cregan Stark—Lord Stark was already summoning his banners, preparing for winter and war.

Winterfell was a vast, ancient fortress. Its towering walls had stood for eight thousand years, guarding the godswood, the steaming hot springs, and the halls within.

"Dragons! Dragons!" The cry echoed through Winterfell as soldiers scrambled to clear space in the yard for the beasts to land. Vermithor roared as he descended, and Vhagar followed, both dragons filling the courtyard with their sheer presence. Vermithor alone was so large that he could barely fit within Winterfell's vast yard.

Cregan Stark stood beside Lord Manderly and Rodrik Dustin, awaiting the dragonriders arrival. The Stark lord was already taller than Draezell, who grinned and gave him a light punch to the shoulder.

"Cregan Stark, it seems the rumors I heard in the south were true," Draezell said cheerfully. "You're even stronger than I imagined."

"Thanks to trade with House Vaelarys," Cregan said, a rare smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. His beard had started to grow in, flecked with the first hints of gray. "At least this winter, our stores will not be so empty. Prince Draezell, you look as young as ever."

"Lord Stark, I speak on behalf of my mother—" Jacaerys began.

"No need, Jace," Cregan interrupted. "The North remembers. The North keeps its vows. You need not worry about our allegiance."

The Stark lord gestured to the grizzled Lord Rodrik Dustin, who stepped forward. "The North must harvest as much as possible before winter sets in, or many will perish, even with the grain Prince Draezell brought. Because of this, the North's main host will march later. To make amends, Lord Rodrik will lead two thousand mounted veterans south to fight for the Queen."

Cregan's gray eyes darkened, as if touched with blood. "They are battle-hardened men, ready to die for the Queen's cause. Soon, my army will march as well. Those who betray their vows will pay the price."

"Thank you for your loyalty, Lord Cregan," Jacaerys said, bowing his head.

"Good. Now that formalities are done, Prince Draezell," Cregan said, stepping before him, "I've been hoping to test myself against your Valyrian steel ever since we last met. This time, I expect you to oblige me."

"It would be an honor."