We Bleed Silver(GOT/ASOIAF Fanfic)

The Summerfield, which had once been an empty plain, was now covered with a dense cluster of tents. Temporary fences and wooden walls had formed an impressive city made of wood, canvas, and cowhide. People were methodically constructing roads.

"That prince really is wealthy," a man dressed in silk sat in a chair, looking out at the bustling crowd outside the tents. He couldn't help but marvel. Though the city hadn't officially started its construction, some facilities were already in place, like taverns, inns, blacksmith shops, schools, and some less spoken-of places. Draezell hadn't only brought back men; there were women and children as well.

"What about Lord Caron?" another young man, wearing a high-collared silk tunic embroidered with black and white swans, asked. He had just downed a spicy beer and was now slowly digesting its peculiar taste.

"The old man didn't dare say anything," the illegitimate son from **Nightsong**, Stannis Storm, said with a bitter smile as he poured himself another beer. "The Targaryens have already openly aligned with our new frontier governor. If it weren't for the oath, I'm sure he'd be swearing fealty to the prince right now. No matter how strong Nightsing is, it can't compete with two, no, three, or perhaps soon five dragons."

"Be precise," the older illegitimate son from Stonehelm, Eric Storm, corrected. "Two dragons that can fight: Prince Rey, Prince Jacaerys, and Prince Lucerys' dragons are still too young. Well, maybe Jacaerys' Vermax could be in the fight, but the only ones that pose a threat to the castle are still the Bronze Fury and Silverwing."

Overhearing their conversation, the silver-haired tavern owner placed a platter of roasted lamb in front of them. "If you're from another region, you can head to the Longhouse in the town center. They'll provide food and lodging."

Stannis Storm nodded at the owner. "We're just passing through, resupplying. Thank Prince Draezell for his kindness."

"If you need anything, just head to the Longhouse," the owner said, leaving them with those words and refilling their cups.

"Valyrians?" Eric Storm asked, confused.

"Looks like it. They're either Valyrians or at least have Valyrian blood. Most of the people our young prince brought back have at least some Valyrian heritage," the owner replied.

"Does that mean we—"

"Don't get any ideas," Stannis Storm broke Eric's fantasy without mercy. "Does Stonehelm not teach basic knowledge about bastards?"

"Alright," Stannis Storm explained. "Ordinary Valyrians are just mortals, there are plenty of them on the Eastern Continent. If you have money, you can find some silver-haired, purple-eyed beauties in Lys, but Dragon Kings are gods." There was a hint of reverence in Stannis' eyes as he suddenly downed the new drink. "My old man will probably come to meet the prince soon enough, and then we'll have to figure out how to deal with the wrath of Lord Baratheon."

Sigh.

Eric, the young man, also understood the implication. Among the nobles of the eastern frontier, the Dandarrion family had swiftly and decisively become part of the Vaelarys. Draezell and his group were staying in Blackhaven, and Boremund Baratheon couldn't stretch his hands that far. House Selmy from Harvest Hall was weak, naturally swaying with the wind. House Morrigen from Crow's Nest and house connington from Griffin's roost had fully integrated into the Stormlands' noble system. Though they were on the frontier, they didn't feel as much need for military protection as the families on the front lines.

In the end, only NightSong and Stonehelm remained to make a decision. Especially Stonehelm. To provide Draezell with lands, the Iron Throne had bought several territories from House Swann of Stonehelm.

In return, the Swann's naturally hoped that one day they could reclaim the land lost to the Dorne people.

Listening quietly to the two bastards' conversation, a man inside the tent, cutting roasted venison with a small knife, was lost in thought.

The man had a neatly groomed beard and wore a green hunter's outfit, his cloak a bit dusty but still clean. He carried something tightly wrapped in cloth on his back. When he entered, the tavern owner tried to suggest he leave the object outside the tent but was firmly refused. After the man repeatedly assured the owner that nothing would go wrong, the owner reluctantly settled him in a corner of the tent.

If he hadn't spoken, no one would have guessed that this old hunter-like man was Lord Donald Tarly of Horn hill, who had come seeking his son and daughter, whom he was chasing.

He had purposely arranged for his servants to stay at a different tavern, entering the town separately to avoid drawing too much attention. By himself, he could also lower the vigilance of other patrons and overhear more information.

Like the two indecisive families from the eastern frontier.

Like Lord Tarly, who had other plans of his own.

Lord Donald Tarly thought about the current situation in the western frontier. The Tyrell's had always been weak, and now they were firmly suppressed by the Hightower family. They were no longer the dominant power of the western frontier that had once dreamed of leading an army into Dorne. Meanwhile, House Peake, with their vast lands, had been restless these years, especially keen on connecting with the smaller lords of the western frontier, though their intentions were unclear.

But the most pressing matter for Lord Tarly was finding his children.

Lord Tarly had many children, all capable in their own right. His eldest daughter, Sansa, was married to Lord Mondo Hightower. His second daughter, Saphira, was still unmarried, remaining in the family home. It was his third daughter, Diana, and his eldest son and heir, Alan, who had run away.

Lord Tarly had never expected his obedient son and daughter to run away. Furious, he was eventually calmed down by his wife and second daughter. He came to realize that his own harsh and impersonal approach to raising his children was the root of the problem.

So this time, besides wanting to meet the new frontier governor Draezell, Lord Donald Tarly also hoped to reconcile with his children, who had apparently appeared in the Summerfield Plain.

"Boss," Lord Donald said, finishing the last piece of roasted meat and signaling to the tavern owner. "How do I get to the Longhouse?"

"It's in the town center. Once you leave this area, take a detour to the main road and just keep walking."

"Thanks." Lord Tarly waved at the owner courteously, took his horse from the stable boy, and began walking toward the Longhouse.

In the sky, two dragon-shaped figures—one gold and one silver—swept across. Lord Tarly squinted his eyes, watching the direction in which the dragons flew.

From his vantage point, he could clearly see the two dragons heading toward the massive castle that was beginning to take shape, breathing fire to further sculpt the details of the structure.

Lord Tarly sighed, then continued walking toward the Longhouse.

"Dad, have you made up your mind?"

A familiar voice came from behind him. Lord Tarly spun around, and his daughter was standing right there.

"Diana, have you forgiven me?"

Diana smiled playfully but didn't answer directly. "Dad, the sight of His Highness burning the castle with dragonfire isn't something you get to see every day. You should watch a little more."

"How did you know I was here?"

"From when you passed through the mountain pass, our people knew you were coming. Several nobles from the frontier have also sent their family members to observe," Diana replied, gazing somewhat mesmerized at the castle in its growing form.

"One day, no, very soon, there will be a great castle here, as grand as any in the Seven Kingdoms. Dad, don't you want to join in this great event?"

Lord Tarly listened to his daughter's words, thoughtfully looking in the direction of Dragon's Nest Castle.

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