We Bleed Silver(GOT/ASOIAF Fanfic)

"Otto, calm yourself and let the Grand Maester finish," Viserys tapped his fingers lightly on the table, signaling Otto to take his seat.

"My apologies, Your Grace. The news is simply... unsettling. I lost my composure," Otto bowed his head in contrition before slowly sitting back down.

Grand Maester Mellos opened a tome and resumed, "According to the records, House Vaelarys was among the Forty Dragonlord Houses. The last Valyrian Emperor, Aelon Vaelarys, was a member of this family. After the Doom, they lost all their dragons, retreating behind the Black Walls of Volantis, sustained by the vast wealth left by their ancestors. However, their previous lord, Claelorius Vaelarys, was a prodigy. He amassed even greater wealth for his house and formed a standing army of thousands—professional soldiers, entirely detached from other trades. Over decades, this army gained extensive experience fighting both Dothraki hordes and mercenary companies. Ten years ago, Cleorius married—"

The Grand Maester hesitated.

"Continue," Viserys pressed, rubbing his temples. Even though he'd had time to digest the information, he still found it difficult to believe.

"...the self-exiled Princess Saera Targaryen."

Silence fell over the council. Even Larys Strong looked down, idly fiddling with his jeweled bauble, lost in thought.

"The princess bore three sons: Draezell, Valar, and Rey. It was Draezell and Valar Vaelarys who tamed dragons. According to reports from Pentos, the Vaelarys fleet is sailing west, consisting of at least 300 ships."

"So they have dragons, wealth, and an experienced standing army?" Ser Tyland Lannister summarized the problem, carefully omitting any mention of Princess Saera.

"Your Grace, we cannot allow dragons to fall into foreign hands," Otto Hightower exclaimed, rising to his feet.

"I am well aware," Viserys waved him off with a tired hand. "But what do you propose we do?"

"Send dragons against them. We have Vhagar, Sunfyre, and Dreamfyre," Otto suggested, pausing briefly before continuing, "On Dragonstone, there are Syrax, Caraxes, and Rhaenys's Meleys. We have the advantage."

"Lord Hand," Larys Strong's calm, low voice interrupted. "May I remind you that Princess Rhaenyra is with child and, as we all know," he placed the bauble back into its groove, "a pregnant woman cannot ride a dragon. Prince Aemond has only just recovered from his injuries and flown Vhagar but once. Princess Helaena is similarly inexperienced, and Prince Aegon—" Larys shot a sidelong glance at Otto.

Otto pressed his lips together, sighing inwardly, and reluctantly sat down. "Your Grace, if we do not act swiftly, we risk recreating..." He stopped short of mentioning Aegon's Conquest.

Viserys understood the implication. His gaze swept across the council. Queen Alicent glanced at her father, then at her husband, but ultimately said nothing.

Lord Lyman coughed lightly. "Your Grace, it seems our only battle-ready dragonriders are Prince Daemon and Princess Rhaenys, but—"

"Your Grace," Lord Jasper interjected, "since they are descendants of Princess Saera, why not attempt to bring them into the kingdom's fold?"

Otto began to object but hesitated. The suggestion held merit. None of the council members were fools; they understood what awaited the Vaelarys family in Essos. The histories were clear—dragons inspired awe and fear in the Free Cities, often leading to chaos. If Draezell remained in Volantis or any other Essosi city, the resulting turmoil could engulf the entire continent, eventually destroying his family and their dragons.

Their fleet's westward course left little doubt as to their destination.

"In the Great Council convened by your grandfather, 'the Conciliator' King Jaehaerys I, Princess Saera's descendants were stripped of their claim to the throne," Lord Jasper Wylde continued. "As for women and the line of succession—"

Cough.

Lord Lyman Beesbury suddenly cleared his throat, cutting Jasper off.

"Lord Wylde, please refrain from involving unrelated matters," Beesbury reminded him.

King Viserys's expression shifted briefly before returning to calm. "Continue."

"My apologies, Your Grace," Jasper hastily bowed before resuming. "Since there is no question of succession, we can regard them as another Valyrian family altogether."

"Lord Wylde," Otto Hightower interrupted, "the Velaryons have followed House Targaryen for centuries." He turned to the silent King Viserys. "Our houses have intermarried for generations. It is only in Lord Corlys's time, through Princess Rhaenys, that they temporarily came to possess dragons. The two houses are hardly comparable."

"Lord Hand, Lord Wylde's suggestion has merit," Grand Maester Mellos said, fixing Otto with a measured gaze. "House Velaryon once commanded three fully grown dragons, including Vhagar. However, after Lady Laena's death, Prince Aemond reclaimed Vhagar, and Seasmoke returned to the wild after Ser Laenor's presumed demise."

"I understand your point, Grand Maester," Otto spread his hands. "Securing them through marriage and later reclaiming their dragons through familial ties. But the royal family currently has no available daughters!"

Queen Alicent seized the opportunity to interject. "My son Aegon and my daughter Helaena are wed under the blessing of the Seven, and Rhaenyra's son is betrothed to Prince Daemon's daughter."

"We could arrange future marriages," Larys Strong suggested. "Or wait for the birth of new royal daughters. Grand Maester, if I recall correctly, they are three brothers, are they not?"

Mellos nodded. "Yes, the youngest, Rey Vaelarys, is only twelve."

"Then we can afford to wait," Larys concluded. "Or incite discord among the brothers."

"Lord Strong," Tyland Lannister cut him off. "Your Grace, you must realize that securing their loyalty will require more than marriage. They bring hundreds of ships and thousands of men."

"Land, wealth, titles," Lord Lyman said. "That is all young men desire."

"Lord Beesbury, you make it sound simple," Jasper retorted sharply. "Land? What land? Your Honeyholt? My Rain House? The Seven Kingdoms are vast, but every inch is claimed. Allocating new lands would require negotiations with countless lords—easier said than done."

"Enough. Let me think," King Viserys finally said, rubbing his temples. "I agree with the proposal to secure them, but how we do so is for you all to decide. Alicent, help me." He gestured for the Queen to assist him. "Mellos, find any unclaimed or royal lands that could be allocated. Then send letters to the Wardens to inquire about territorial matters. The rest we'll discuss next time."

"As you command, Your Grace."

As King Viserys departed, the council dispersed, each carrying their own doubts. Only Otto Hightower remained, his expression grim as he headed toward the Tower of the Hand.

When he arrived, several Hightower retainers hastened to meet him.

"Write to Lord Hobert," Otto commanded curtly. "Have him clear a tract of land near Oldtown as soon as possible. Go."

The attendant froze for a moment, only to be jolted into action as Otto kicked him firmly in the backside. "What are you waiting for? Move!"

"Yes, my lord."

Watching the attendant scurry off toward the rookery, Otto's face briefly betrayed a faint, almost imperceptible smile.

\---

The Summer Sea

The Vaelarys fleet continued to grow. Lady Cleovena showed no intention of hindering the waves of soldiers, craftsmen, and civilians departing aboard the ships of House Vaelarys. On the contrary, she seemed pleased by the sight, even going so far as to provide additional vessels to aid the effort.

"Exalted One, the Tiger envoy's ship has been tailing us for days now," Vansen kaon remarked as he stood steadily on the deck, addressing Draezell Vaelarys, who was watching his younger brother play with a young dragon.

Above them, Vermithor and Silverwing circled silently over the Lord of the Abyss.

Valar practiced flying high above, his form a dark silhouette against the sunlit sky.

Whether due to its egg or some other factor, Rey's dragon was growing remarkably fast. In just a few weeks, its scales had hardened, its body had gained size, and it was now covered in an intimidating array of sharp spines. However, unlike the other dragons, this one had a slender, almost emaciated frame. If not for its spikes and armor-like scales, it might have seemed fragile.

Rey had named the dragon Shadowmare, after a pony he had loved as a child—a pony that had unfortunately died. Similarly, his falcon, Flamewing, had passed away in the skies after accompanying the final wave of refugees fleeing Volantis.

Rey held up a piece of roasted meat, teasing the young dragon with it. In a flash, the dragon darted its neck forward, snatching the morsel and swallowing it whole.

"Brother, do we have more meat?"

"Yes," Draezell replied with a laugh, signaling for the cook to bring more. Turning back to Vansen, he added, "We will not meet with them. The Tigers wish to mire us in the quicksand of Essos."

"But Westeros…" Vansen hesitated, pressing his lips together. "Forgive me, but it is a backward land—barbaric, uncivilized."

"I know." Draezell raised his head to gaze at the sun, narrowing his eyes against its glare. "It is both an experiment and a calling."

Vansen lowered his head and said solemnly, "The kaon family is your vanguard. Wherever you go, we follow."

As Vermithor passed overhead, casting a shadow over the deck, Draezell's gaze shifted westward, to the far horizon.