We Bleed Silver(GOT/ASOIAF Fanfic)

Before the Winter Wolves arrived on the battlefield in the Riverlands, Draezell and Daemon split up to search the Narrow Sea islands and Crackclaw Point, respectively, following the intelligence they had received. Daemon discovered the smoking ruins of Whispering Sound and several smoldering villages in Crackclaw Point, but neither Aemond nor Vhagar were anywhere to be found. After completing his search, Daemon suddenly took to the skies, heading eastward, his destination unclear. Meanwhile, Draezell flew toward the Narrow Sea, determined to uncover Aemond's hiding place.

Aemond was also in a dire situation. Their original plan had been for him to draw the Black faction's dragons away with Vhagar, allowing Aegon the Elder to hide and prepare for a counterattack. The first part of the plan had succeeded—he had indeed attracted the Black dragons. The problem was that he couldn't shake them off.

Vhagar flew silently through the clouds. They had torched a few castles belonging to Black bannermen, but the castles were either too small or abandoned, their lords already having marched to war. Worse, after every attack, Vhagar would soon sense another dragon approaching, forcing them to take flight once more.

Draezell felt the warmth emanating from the stone he carried—it meant Vhagar was nearby. Pressing close to his saddle, he signaled Vermithor to follow his guidance. The bronze-scaled behemoth roared, changing direction as they flew westward.

Aemond had initially considered burning Driftmark or landing directly on Dragonstone but ultimately abandoned both plans. Instead, he kept changing direction to evade pursuit. Somehow, he found himself veering back toward the Riverlands.

Then, a wave of heat surged down from above.

"Found you, Aemond," Draezell said, his voice cold. Vermithor suddenly emerged from the clouds, its massive wings splitting the dark skies. With a thunderous roar, the bronze dragon dove straight at Vhagar.

"Vhagar, evade!" Aemond shouted, yanking on the saddle straps to steer the ancient dragon out of Vermithor's fiery breath. The searing flames passed mere inches from Aemond. "Attack, Vhagar!"

Enraged by the attack, Vhagar roared and wheeled around to retaliate, unleashing a blast of dragonfire at the descending Vermithor. Yet, the flames left no scorch marks on the bronze dragon's scales. Vermithor tore through the firestorm, jaws snapping at Vhagar's head. The older dragon twisted its neck to avoid the bite, swiping with its massive claws instead. Vermithor countered with its own talons, locking them in a deadly struggle.

"Vhagar, retreat!" Aemond commanded, realizing his dragon was at a disadvantage and beginning to falter. He pulled hard on the reins, steering Vhagar away. The ancient dragon roared, spewing one last stream of dragonfire to buy time before veering westward with all its might.

Draezell sneered, signaling Vermithor to pursue. The two colossal dragons raced across the skies of the Riverlands, trading fireballs and fury. From sunrise to sunset, for several days, Draezell relentlessly tracked Vhagar's movements. The two dragons clashed seven times in total, each battle ending with Vhagar fleeing once again.

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Red Fork Battlefield

The arrival of the Winter Wolves instantly turned the tide of battle. The gray-bearded Northmen roared as they tore into the Westerlands infantry lines with axes and war hammers. When their shaggy horses lost their momentum and mobility, the old warriors dismounted without hesitation, transitioning seamlessly into armored infantry, slaughtering their way through the enemy ranks.

The battle shifted dramatically. The Westerlands forces, previously holding the upper hand, began to retreat. Lord Jason Lannister quickly recognized the growing weakness in his army.

"Dismount, push forward with me!" Lord Jason Lannister raised his sword, and the well-equipped knights of the Westerlands dismounted, forming a heavy infantry formation that slowly advanced toward the Riverlands troops. Meanwhile, more common soldiers were sent to hold off the Winter Wolves, trying to fend off their brutal attacks.

The Riverlands troops, upon seeing the arrival of the Winter Wolves, seemed invigorated, charging with the same ferocity as their northern counterparts. They slammed into the Westerlands lines, scattering the lions into disarray. Even Lord Jason himself was struck by a spear through the gut by one of the Riverlands soldiers.

"What's that?" Alyssane, who had just shot an arrow through the gap in a Westerlands knight's helmet, looked up and saw something in the sky, as if two giants were clashing mid-air.

"Dragons! It's dragons!" Benjicot looked up, also noticing the dark shadows in the sky.

Vhagar let out a sharp, enraged roar as its massive body plunged down from the heavens. Following close behind was another mountain of a dragon—Vermithor, under Draezell's command. Vermithor's claws tore into Vhagar's old scales, hot dragon blood raining down like a storm.

"Everyone, get out of the way! Don't let the dragon's blood hit you!" Lord Frey shouted, and similar warnings rang out among the commanders of both sides.

"Draezell, are you really willing to die for that bitch?" Aemond was exhausted, but he knew Draezell was as well. The chase had been going on for days, and had Vhagar flown faster, Aemond believed he would have already lost Draezell.

"Die for Rhaenyra?" Draezell chuckled darkly. He didn't answer Aemond's question. "Did you really think Daemon was only following me just to find you?" Draezell yelled, his voice full of mocking.

"What do you mean?" Aemond's mind raced, piecing together the possibilities. Vermithor lunged toward Vhagar, who turned swiftly to face the oncoming attack, claws raised to meet Vermithor's, and the two dragons clashed mid-air, their roars shaking the skies. From the ground, it looked like two mountains dancing in the sky—green and bronze dragons, alternately spewing flames, trying to bite and claw each other, their immense bodies crashing together as they tore at each other's scales.

Eventually, the two giants tangled in the air. Vermithor's claws locked around Vhagar's, while their heads continued to snap and clash as they spiraled downward.

"Aren't you curious how I found you?" Draezell laughed. "I performed a spell to locate you, using your mother's blood, maternal blood, paternal blood, and King's blood. But you're not the only one who meets the criteria.

It didn't take a moment for Aemond to understand who Draezell was talking about.

"You bastard, Draezell…" Aemond seethed.

Finally, Vermithor seized on a weakness in Vhagar's defense, shooting a blast of dragonfire directly into Vhagar's eyes. As Vhagar struggled, closing its eyes in pain, Vermithor took the opportunity to sink its teeth into Vhagar's throat.

"You think we didn't know what you were planning?" Draezell pressed down hard on his reins, signaling Vermithor to push harder. The bronze dragon, with all its strength, sank its fangs deep into Vhagar's throat. The old dragon let out a pained roar. "If it weren't for Rhaenyra playing her little noble games, and Daemon stalling, they would have taken Both Bartimos and my advice. We'd have already gathered the dragons and flown to King's Landing and Oldtown. By the way, you should know—you have one of ours in your inner council. Considering the time, Valar and the others should be heading to Oldtown now. Dreamfire isn't a match for Silverwing. Or do you really think the Three Daughter's fleet can come to your aid? Whether they land depends on our mood. You think the silver fleet has been patrolling the seas all these years just to fight pirates and make money? Or do you think we don't have allies?"

Aemond's face turned pale as he stared at Draezell. "What do you want? I don't believe that Rhaenyra's gifts would ever satisfy you."

"Rhaenyra, huh." Draezell clicked his tongue. "I'm more satisfied with young Jaehaerys and young Aegon. Her children are far more intelligent than her. You see, a position where I can safely develop my people in the background without becoming the center of attention. I'll let you meet the Stranger with full awareness—you should thank me."

"Draezell, I will curse you and your family." Aemond finally broke, his words laced with fury. The two dragons spiraled down toward the ground, with Vhagar crashing first into the Westerlands army. In the blink of an eye, the massive dragon's impact scattered the entire Westerlands formation. Aemond was pinned beneath the dragon's body, scalding dragon blood pouring down over him from head to toe.

"Vhagar is dead!" Lord Rodrik Dustin raised his battleaxe, shouting as he cleaved off the head of Lord Crakehall. The Winter Wolves gray-bearded veterans charged again through the smoke created by the dragon's fall. This time, the Westerlands army couldn't regroup.

Vermithor stood over Vhagar's body, coldly continuing to rip into Vhagar's throat, the roar of dragonfire echoing through the air as it aided in searing Vhagar's flesh with its sharp teeth.

Aemond closed his single eye, watching the fading light in Vhagar's eyes. The dragon struggled wildly, knocking over a group of Westerlands soldiers, but gradually, it fell silent.

Vermithor released its jaws, stepping heavily on Vhagar's head. The dragon unleashed a stream of dragonfire at its fallen adversary's body, tearing at it with its claws to ensure that this giant, nearly its equal in size, would die completely.

The fire swept over Aemond's body, turning him into a charred corpse.

Draezell sat on his dragon's saddle, surveying the crumbling Westerlands forces. Lord Jason Lannister, his gut pierced by a spear, smiled weakly as he dropped his weapon. Then, the Westerlands nobles followed suit.

The surviving Westerlands soldiers also dropped their weapons, bending the knee to the dragons. Lord Rodrik looked disdainfully at the kneeling knights of the Westerlands and snorted, "Cowards." Yet, he still refrained from striking with his axe.

"Lord Jason, kneeling won't solve anything." Draezell coldly watched the pale-faced Lord.

"I know, Your Highness." Lord Jason spoke with great effort. "We have lost. The Westerlands cannot bear your wrath and Her Majesty's. We are willing to accept any demand you make, if only you spare our families. We will don black robes and go to the Wall to atone for our wrongs."

Draezell rubbed his gauntlet and signaled for Vermithor to continue tearing apart Vhagar's corpse. Then, he spoke. "Punishment will come after the war ends. Your crimes will be judged by Prince Jacaerys himself. For now, take off your armor. Your troops will march with the Riverlands forces, and you will be placed under the guardianship of Lord Frey until the war ends. Don't worry, we will honor the rights of guests."

"We are deeply grateful." Lord Jason said, his face pale.

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