We Bleed Silver(GOT/ASOIAF Fanfic)

The room prepared by Lord Tarly for Draezell was modest but comfortable. Jacaerys's room was adjacent to his, and Tarly knights patrolled the hallway throughout the night to prevent any inappropriate incidents, such as girls sneaking in.

Draezell opened the intelligence reports compiled by House Tarly. A quick review revealed little difference from what his own family already knew, but these reports included additional details. The core of the conflict between the Princess and the Queen remained the issue of succession. King Viserys had established Princess Rhaenyra's claim to the Iron Throne through royal decree and required all the realm's lords to swear fealty to her.

When Draezell had visited King's Landing, he, too, had sworn an oath. The pledge dictated by the King included a notable passage: "I acknowledge Princess Rhaenyra of Dragonstone as the rightful heir to the Iron Throne and shall, in the future, offer my loyalty to Her Majesty the Queen." Following the oath, King Viserys publicly announced that Princes Jacaerys and Lucerys would serve as squires to Draezell and Valar.

Draezell still remembered the expressions of the onlookers after he and Valar recited their oaths. Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King, looked grim. Jasper Wylde and Captain Criston Cole remained stoic, while Lord Lyonel Strong applauded with a polite smile. Ser Tyland Lannister's face flickered with various emotions. Queen Alicent pressed her lips tightly, as though she wished to speak but ultimately remained silent. Prince Aegon had buried himself in his gifts, oblivious, while Prince Aemond maintained an inscrutable expression, his quiet ambition and detachment palpable to Draezell.

The appointment of the princes as squires was perceived by outsiders as a move by Princess Rhaenyra to consolidate her influence. Draezell understood this political maneuvering. However, with King Viserys still alive, the issue of succession had not yet erupted into open conflict, leaving room for negotiation.

Yet, Lord Tarly's intelligence offered an unparalleled level of detail, revealing the intricate complexities of the situation. King Viserys's actions challenged the Andal tradition of male primogeniture. Lords who had sworn to support the Princess did not necessarily accept her claim in their hearts. Many doubted the legitimacy of the three princes with dark brown hair, casting further doubt on the Princess's authority. Even though all three princes had dragons, rumors continued to fester in the shadows.

In the Reach, House Hightower had semi-openly declared their support for Prince Aegon over Princess Rhaenyra. The Tyrells were playing dead, offering no overt support to either side. Under the Hightowers' influence, many lords of the Reach shared their perspective, especially Lord **Unwin** Peake of House Peake. A powerful noble with lands spanning the Reach and the Stormlands, Ormund Peake had openly declared, "How can a woman rule over men?"

The Stormlands held similar sentiments. Borros Baratheon, known for his opportunism and disregard for oaths, had once written to Draezell after House Dondarrion shifted allegiance, demanding compensation for the "loss of a Stormlands vassal." His price was simple: either Draezell or Valar would marry one of his daughters and reside permanently at Storm's End.

Naturally, Draezell had politely declined.

With such attitudes prevalent in the realm's wealthiest regions, endless undercurrents of dissent were inevitable. As for Princess Rhaenyra, Draezell found himself reluctant to comment on her actions. He couldn't fathom why Daemon hadn't advised her that leaving the political center was a grave mistake. From Jacaerys, he had learned about the reasons behind Rhaenyra's departure from King's Landing and the series of misfortunes that preceded and followed it.

"Foolish princess," Draezell murmured after finishing the intelligence reports. "Does she think oaths will secure her crown after the King's death? She has dragons, but so do the Queen's children. Or does she believe I'll unconditionally mount my dragon to fight for her claim? Even if I currently stand in her camp…"

Sitting cross-legged on the bed, Draezell absentmindedly rubbed the silk bedsheet—a nervous habit he couldn't seem to break. Whether it was a sword hilt, a bedsheet, or the armrest of a chair, his fingers always found something to fidget with during deep thought. After so many years, he had given up trying to change it.

"But the fact that she entrusted Jacaerys and Lucerys to my care shows she's aware of the influence our presence brings to the situation," he continued in a low voice, audible only to himself. "If it wasn't her decision but Jacaerys acting independently, then it only proves his abilities far surpass his mother's. Jacaerys has keenly identified the fatal flaws in Rhaenyra's position."

Lying back on the bed, Draezell allowed his mind to race. The Tarly reports mentioned House Velaryon, differing slightly from his family's intelligence. According to the Tarlys, Lord Corlys Velaryon had never relinquished his ambitions. While he indeed supported Rhaenyra, his true motivation lay in the nominal Velaryon name of her three sons. Furthermore, Jacaerys and Lucerys were betrothed to Baela and Rhaena, the true heirs of Velaryon blood. As long as the Iron Throne passed smoothly to Rhaenyra, House Velaryon's overwhelming power would remain unchallenged.

Pulling the blanket over himself, Draezell pondered, "This shows Corlys's deeper allegiance lies with male succession, but he supports Rhaenyra simply because it serves his interests." Looking up at the intricate carvings on the ceiling, he chuckled. It was no wonder the Tarlys had chosen this room for him; the ceiling featured an elaborate mural depicting intimate scenes between men and women.

I've seen worse, Draezell thought, refusing to admit that Volantis's libertine culture had exposed him to such images at a young age. His father had often mused about the artistic merits of similar murals in their own palace. Casting these thoughts aside, Draezell refocused on the challenges ahead.

"The Hightower's bringing Prince Daeron to Highgarden likely has two purposes: to win my favor and strengthen relations, especially with Ser Ormund Hightower seeking to become my brother-in-law."

Draezell recognized this as a necessary price for maintaining power. While the Tarlys didn't rank among the top-tier lords of the Reach, they were among the most powerful houses in the Stormlands. Securing their loyalty effectively meant gaining control over a significant portion of the Stormlands and a formidable army.

After all, Viserys was still alive, and the two factions hadn't openly broken ties yet. Draezell suppressed a string of curses. Could Viserys really be planning to use him as the mediator between the two sides? Had the king even considered his own position and current situation? With the way things stood, Viserys had not only approved the arrangement of the two princes serving as squires—essentially hostages—but also orchestrated marriage plans for both him and his brother. In the future, a Targaryen princess would inevitably marry either Rey or one of his sons. Whether she hailed from the Princess's camp or the Queen's, the completion of such a union would force him out of neutrality.

Especially now, when outward appearances already suggested he stood firmly in Rhaenyra's camp. Still, if he were to be honest, there were benefits to Rhaenyra's succession. The recognition of female inheritance would indirectly strengthen the concept of matrilineal succession as a viable option.

No point dwelling on such long-term outcomes for now. The immediate priority was still to observe the realities of Westeros, forge alliances for his house, and complete the suppression of Dorne.

"Then there's another matter—Oldtown," Draezell muttered, narrowing his eyes at a more pressing issue. "If Ormund is representing House Hightower at Highgarden, there's no longer any reason for me to fly to Oldtown. And the only reason to give someone no excuse to visit a place is if that place is hiding something. What exactly is the Hightower family scheming? The Faith? Or the Citadel?"

His eyes widened. The Citadel!

A thought he had long ignored resurfaced. His maesters, Visari and Evens, had been away from the Citadel for years, having effectively become extensions of his House. But what about after Maester Visari's death? What would happen as his castles grew more numerous? More maesters would undoubtedly come to serve his keeps and those of his vassals. But whom, exactly, did they owe their true allegiance to?

Draezell recalled how Lord Tarly had instructed a literate knight to retrieve intelligence instead of relying on a maester, as well as the statements his family's two previous maesters had made. A possible answer began to crystallize in his mind.

"The Citadel may not be as straightforward as it seems."

Draezell was well aware that his ability to wield magic was no secret and that this fact would eventually find its way to the desks of various lords through their maesters. And the Citadel... 'The Citadel fears magic. The Citadel despises magic,' Maester Visari had once said. Though Visari had many students, he had never returned to the Citadel in the decades since his departure. This revealed the depth of his complicated views on the institution.

"So, do I need to start cultivating maesters fully loyal to me?" Draezell frowned. Using the wine of binding was an option, but that spell was both time-consuming and fragile—its effects would quickly fade if consumption ceased. Similarly, transforming them using the same magic that had changed Corlen, now Bishop Corlen, wasn't practical. That spell required an intense connection between Draezell and the "recipient," who had to be subjected to a full-force enchantment and harbor an obsessive belief or devotion. Without Corlen's fervent faith in the Seven, the ritual could never have succeeded.

Then again, if Corlen hadn't been a true believer in the Seven, things might have been much easier to handle.

New maesters would have to be cultivated from scratch.

"Ormund Hightower, I hope you're prepared to offer a price that satisfies me." Draezell raised a hand and clenched it in the air as if grasping something invisible.

Knock, knock, knock.

The soft sound of knuckles rapping against the door broke the silence. Draezell frowned slightly. Judging from the presence outside, it was Jacaerys.

"Come in."

---

Meanwhile, the same moonlight illuminated the towers of Dragon's Nest.

Valar led their guest down the winding staircase, descending to a storeroom.

"Lord Cafferen, this is where the spoils from previous wars are kept," Valar said, setting a torch into a nearby sconce before opening the storeroom door. Earlier during the evening feast, Valar had accepted the allegiance of Randyll Cafferen, Lord of Fawnton, on behalf of Draezell. Randyll had insisted on seeing the trophies taken from House wyl.

Rey honored his request. Only during the feast had he learned of the blood feud between House Cafferen and House Wyl. In the twelfth year of the Conquest, Jon Cafferen, heir of Fawnton, had been ambushed by Lord Wyl during his wedding. Most of the guests were massacred; Jon was brutally mutilated, and his wife was abducted by Lord Wail. This tragedy was immortalized in the stonework of Fawnton's castle.

Now, at last, the carving could be removed.

Randyll Cafferen immediately recognized the head of Ullen Wyl. Though the skull had been preserved and stripped of its skin, the remains were unmistakable.

"We'd recognize the scum of House Wyl even if they turned to ash," Randyll growled through gritted teeth, lifting the skull. "Your Highness, I request permission to take this head. House Cafferen will pay any price."

Valar carefully considered what his brother might say and replied cautiously, "You have already offered your loyalty to Valarys. That is price enough."

"Your Highness, House Cafferen will forever draw its bows in service of House Valarys," Randyll vowed, staring intently at the skull of Weyland Wail. "It's a shame the rest of those Wyl scum were burned to ash. They got off too easily."

"What do you intend to do with it?"

"I'm going to make it into a chamber pot," Randyll said with icy determination. "The wyl scum owe a debt, and it's time to collect."