We Bleed Silver(GOT/ASOIAF Fanfic)

Upon learning that his son, Alan, was studying governance under the tutelage of the Vaelarys maester and had a Sword instructor, Lord Tarly felt reassured and decided not to personally visit his son. Instead, he accompanied his daughter directly to the dragon's lair.

The Dragon's Lair in Dragon Nest had no external passageways; one had to first traverse a narrow mountain path to enter through the black stone gate forged by Vermithor's dragon fire. From there, they proceeded through the castle's tower into the underground lair.

Lord Donald Tarly gently ran his hand along the black stone handrail, forged from dragon flame, and couldn't quite tell what material it was made from. His gaze towards the towering Nine Towers of the Castle above was filled with respect.

Father and daughter passed workers constructing gates and carving castle walls, then entered a bustling scene where a large group of workers were building interior structures using black stone and wood. Most of the workers had silver or light golden hair, with many of the men having dyed their hair in bright colors.

Lord Tarly furrowed his brow but soon relaxed when he noticed familiar faces—golden-haired, red-haired, and black-haired workers—in the places where the temple and sacred grove were being built.

"Seven Blessings, Seven Glories, Seven Gods bless our Lord, Seven Gods praise our Lord, Seven Gods descend upon our Lord, the Father grants the Prince the Longsword, that he may judge and rule, the Father grants wisdom, bringing life to this land, the Mother smiles and bows her head, thus the fields prosper, the Warrior sounds the horn, and the Prince becomes invincible, the Smith lights the celestial fire, and the Holy City rises, the Maiden blesses this place, the faithful shall thrive, strangers abound, but He too blesses this place, the faithful live without notice..."

Lord Tarly's brow furrowed again. He noticed that the Dornish workers in the castle were devoutly marking the seven-pointed star on their chests, while the converted foreigners also bowed their heads in reverence before continuing their work. Only the barefooted priest remained tirelessly preaching.

"There's something wrong," Lord Tarly muttered, his eyes narrowing. "That priest is leading the faith of the Seven towards Prince Draezell. Will the Starry sept accept such behavior?"

"The Starry Temple won't know, or if they do, it won't matter," Diana replied slyly, shaking her head. "Priest Colen has been appointed by both the King and the High Septon. He's now the bishop of the Prince's lands, and with the Prince's financial support, he's also earned a position as a bishop of a sept. After all, the High Septon's crystal crown needs more gold and gems to accentuate the power of the Seven Gods."

Lord Tarly sighed and entered the castle gates. He muttered to himself, "I guess I'm getting old... perhaps the younger generation really can change things." He quickly moved into the tower, where he received bread and salt from the workers and ate them hastily.

With the help of the silver-clad guards, Lord Tarly and Diana descended deeper into the dragon's lair, where they found the Vaelarys brothers, Draezell and Valar, resting beneath the giant dragon after cleaning its scales.

Upon seeing Lord Tarly approach cautiously, Vermithor cast a glance at him before disdainfully closing his eyes. Silverwing, however, regarded Lord Tarly with more curiosity, sniffed the air, and then snorted, resuming its sleep.

"Lord Donald, you arrived without notifying us. Look at this, I apologize for the lack of proper reception. Diana, would you kindly offer Lord Donald some bread and salt?" Seeing Lord Tarly still carrying the object wrapped in black cloth, Draezell could easily guess what it was.

The Tarly family sword, the Valyrian steel blade "Heartsbane."

"Thank you for your hospitality, of course, if the meal I had in the tavern earlier in the town counts as one, then I am even more grateful."

"That was your trade, my lord," Draezell said with a smile. "But if you consider that hospitality, I wouldn't refuse." Draezell then looked at him more seriously. "But since you hurried to see me, I assume you have something important to discuss."

"His Highness truly has a maturity and wisdom beyond his years. And politeness," Lord Tarly thought to himself.

Being a straightforward man—like the entire Tarly family, who valued direct and efficient conversation—Lord Tarly wasted no time and got straight to the point. "Your Highness, I suggest you use the Wyl assault on Blackhaven as an excuse to invade Dorne. This is the revenge long desired by the lords of the Borderlands. Once you mount a dragon and raise your banner, every sword and horse in the Borderlands will be at your command."

Draezell stood up slowly, meeting Lord Tarly's eyes. "My lord, I understand your feelings and the anger from the Dornish's harm to the Borderlands, but conquest, annihilation, and governance are three different things." Draezell walked toward Lord Tarly, picking up the clamp used for cleaning Vermithor's scales and began sketching a route on the jagged surface of the black stone. "I could ride a dragon and burn the ports, oases, and forests. I could lead an army to sow salt into the land, cut off water sources, poison the Greenblood River, and let the Dornish taste true dragon's wrath. But then what? The surviving Dornish would carry that hatred for generations. Even if the Dornish were wiped out, we would be left with a barren desert wasteland. Lord Tarly, having learned from the failure of the previous Dornish War, I'm sure you understand what the real solution to the Dornish pro

"You're right," Lord Tarly said thoughtfully. "The land, the oases, the water sources—everything the Dornish rely on to survive—if we destroy those, even the best of their guerrilla fighters would perish from hunger and thirst." Lord Tarly knew this well. In fact, during the First Dornish War, the Conqueror Aegon and Queen Visenya had indeed considered such measures, but their ultimate goal had been to conquer Dorne, not to annihilate it. They never took things as far as burning the oases or cutting off the water sources.

Though Lord Tarly harbored immense anger towards the Dornish, his reason told him that if the result were a barren wasteland, then centuries of suffering and conflict would be rendered meaningless.

"So your idea is..." Lord Tarly suddenly considered a possibility. The political situation in Dorne was not as stable as it seemed. The House of Yronwood in Yronwood, the House of Fowler in Skyreach, the House of Manwoody in Kingsgrave, and the Dayne's in Starfall—these families, once crowned kings, were not as peaceful as they seemed. Particularly the Yronwood family, who had worn the "High King of Dorne" crown in the past, had defied the commands of Sunspear more than once. The Martell's had no good solutions for this powerful family, and if not for the Yronwood's strained relationships with surrounding Houses, the situation could be even worse.

"Dorne is not just Prince Qoren Martel," Draezell said, pointing his clamp first toward the imagined direction of Sunspear, then toward the direction of the Red Mountains. "Prince Qoren is cautious, but Dorne has plenty of reckless fools."

"For example, the Vulture Kings of past generations!" Lord Tarly suddenly thought of something. The Vulture King was the title of a Dornish leader causing trouble in the Red Mountains, a title passed down through several generations, sparking multiple "Dornish Wars." Despite the Martell's always distancing themselves from these leaders, every time the Vulture King led an uprising, it was under that banner. So, almost everyone believed this trouble was caused by the Dornish prince, specifically to annoy the lords of the Borderlands and the Targaryens.

Lord Tarly could easily imagine what Ullen VWyl, who had lost his forces and port, would do. That man, who shamelessly slept with both men and women, would undoubtedly try to crawl to Prince Qoren and beg for help, only to be turned away. And looking at the entire Eastern Borderlands and even Dorne, the only ones who could possibly come to his aid were the remnants of the Vulture Kings hiding in the Red Mountains, the bold and ruthless Toland's from Ghost Hill, and the mysterious Uller family.

"War must be fought, but meals must be eaten one bite at a time. What we want are the Dornish lands and hearts, not a bunch of lunatics ready to rebel at any moment or a scorched earth," Draezell said, forcefully jamming the clamp onto the imagined location of Wyl Castle.

Of course, it didn't go in, and the clamp bent.

Pretending nothing was wrong, Draezell tossed the clamp aside and continued, "To kill a viper, it's best to wait until it exposes its heart, and make sure it is caught between two enemies, unable to turn its head."

"I understand your meaning now," Lord Tarly said, extending his hand and shaking Draezell's. "I'll return to Hornhill and prepare for a hawk hunt. Hornhill can provide 600 armored cavalry, 3,000 infantry, including 1,200 archers. All are skilled enough to hunt stag."

"Thank you for your generosity," Draezell replied.

"As for the western lords I can influence, I can gather at least 300 cavalry and 2,000 infantry. Unfortunately, House Peake has spent too many years scheming with the weaklings on the plains. Otherwise, the western lords could send even more troops."

"The eastern lords will be weaker," Draezell shook his head. "Only the houses Dondarrion and the Selmy will send full support. The Swann and Caron are likely still undecided, and as for the other families, they're more like inland Stormlands nobility than true Borderlanders. If Lord Baratheon doesn't approve, they won't send troops."

"You have dragons," Lord Tarly said with some awe, looking at the dozing Vermithor. "Once the Bronze Fury is unleashed, the Dornish will have no choice but to flee. Your Highness, I'll wait for your news in the mountains."

"When the time comes, I'll have Valar ride Silverwing over," Draezell said, setting the sign for when the time was right. Once Lord Tarly saw the silver dragon flying across the mountains, he would immediately begin his march east.

"Your Highness, it's been a pleasure working with you," Lord Tarly said with a satisfied smile. "I hope this time, the Dornish sluts will never forget our fire and arrows. May the Seven bless you."

Draezell smiled and narrowed his eyes.

Meanwhile, at High Hermitage.

This beautiful fortress belonged to a branch of the Daynes, loyal to the main house of Starfall. It housed a vast wine cellar, stocked with fine wines from around the world. However, as a secret door to the cellar opened, a group of men dressed in black swiftly poured in.

It seemed that they had expected someone, as several young men and women were already hiding in the cellar. Together with these black-clad figures, they quickly took control of the castle's towers. The leader of the group casually walked up the main tower's stairs, kicking open the lord's chamber door.

The elderly Ser Oberyn Dayne appeared to know exactly who had attacked his castle. Calmly leaning against the bed, he watched as the black-clad figures removed their hoods, revealing a striking, sharp face.

"Obara, you truly deserves dawn, but I'm not dead yet," Ser Oberyn couldn't help but say upon seeing her face. "Can't you wait a few more years?"

"Great-uncle, you no longer have the strength to wield Dawn," Obara said as she raised one long leg, placing it on her Great-uncle's desk, looking down at the frail, cloudy-eyed "Sword of the Morning." "I can hear the mourning of Dawn," she gestured to her ear. "Dawn longs for battle. Now I've found a reason to wield it."

"What do you want? Where is my son?"

"Great-uncle, don't overthink it. Killing kin is a sin despised by the gods, but he was too cautious. He couldn't bear our dreams, so I've sent little Quentyn to govern in his place."

The door creaked open, and a well-equipped young man, eager and excited, looked at his cousin. "Obara, when do we act?"

"Quentyn? Are you all insane? Quentyn is only 13 years old!" Oberyn struggled to rise, but his frail body was no longer able to support him. "What are you all trying to do?"

Obara smiled mysteriously. "Great-uncle, just wait and see. Once Starfall raises our banner, we will bring back the King of the Torrent River to the Seven Kingdoms." She looked at her younger cousin's fervent gaze and raised her voice even higher. "Why should the Martells keep that crown? Housr Dayne has had kings before. Why should we meekly give it up just because of a few failures? The great Nymeria, the Warrior Queen, has left seed in the Dayne bloodline. Why should we cower beneath that damn sun for centuries?"

The young man's eyes burned with increasing intensity, and he looked at his grandfather with a vicious glare.

Oberyn sighed deeply. His body, so weak it couldn't even support him sitting up, could do nothing but watch as Obara continued her reckless plans.

"And what if the Martells call their vassals to suppress you?"

"Don't worry about that, old man." Obara leaned forward sharply, pressing her face against her Great-uncle's wrinkled one. "Prince Qoren won't be concerned with us."

"And Starfall?"

"Heh," Obara raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure my brother has already taken control of my fat, pig-like father. Don't worry, my brother may be foolish, but if it means wearing the crown of the King of the Torrent River, he'll be more eager than anyone."

"When did you… How did the Maester..."

"Communication isn't limited to ravens, dear great-uncle." Obara shifted her entire body away, no longer sparing a glance at Oberyn's frail frame. "It turns out that encouraging my mens to learn to read and write more was a wise decision."

That was the last thing Obara said to her great-uncle before leaving the room.

"Obara, where did you find these soldiers?" Amira Sand, bastard daughter from High Hermitage's, looked excitedly at the tall, muscular Unsullied soldiers, their bodies completely hairless. She reached out instinctively, then froze, her face turning pale. "Obara, are you kidding me? You brought in eunuchs? You tricked us!"

Obara ignored her illegitimate cousin's complaints and walked straight to the soldiers. "As per the prince's instructions, I'll leave thirty men behind to guard High Hermitage. The rest will march with me to Starfall."

"Yes." The Unsullied snapped to attention simultaneously, their discipline startling the boys and girls who had gathered to watch. Their awe of Obara deepened with every passing moment.

\---

At Starfall, a similar scene unfolded. No castle, no matter how fortified, could resist collapse from within, especially when the one leading the coup was Lord Dayne's own eldest son.

The obese Lord Dayne was locked in a small chamber near the kitchen, helplessly watching his son eat spicy grilled meat at a leisurely pace just a few feet away.

"You ungrateful child! Why are you doing this?"

"For the crown, Father." The young Dayne's eyes gleamed with fervor. "The crown of the King of the Torrentine returns to our family after centuries. This is our greatest honor."

"You wretched boy! Ungrateful!" Lord Dayne threw himself against the stone door, but it didn't budge. "My dear son, release your father. I'll give you anything—no, no!"

His son merely wiped his mouth, stood, and began walking out of the kitchen.

At this, the corpulent lord let out a desperate cry. "At least leave me something to eat! Seven hells, seven hells!"

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