We Bleed Silver(GOT/ASOIAF Fanfic)

Draezell observed the events in the arena with great interest. It was no challenge for him to discern the identities of the two mysterious knights. Aemond's martial skills, polished under the tutelage of the Red Keep's master-at-arms and the Kingsguard, made him one of the Seven Kingdoms' most formidable young warriors despite his age. As for his younger brother, while Rey's swordsmanship couldn't quite match Draezell's or Valar's, his jousting abilities were impeccable. Unless forced into dismounted combat, Rey rarely faced any trouble.

The Greenfire Knight raised his lance and lightly tapped Daemon's shield. Daemon arched an eyebrow, his violet eyes seemingly piercing through the mysterious knight's helm to uncover his identity. Yet the Prince said nothing. With a small squeeze of his legs, he urged his horse forward, heading for his position at the tilt barrier.

"Prince Daemon Targaryen of House Targaryen versus the mysterious Greenfire Knight!" The herald's voice rang out, accompanied by the crisp rhythm of drums, signaling the start of the match.

"Where is Aemond?" King Viserys muttered irritably, rising from his seat. The prolonged absence of his son made him uneasy. Was Aemond involved in some reckless escapade, much like his troublesome older brother? "Erryk, Lorent, have either of you seen Aemond?"

The two Kingsguard knights exchanged glances before shaking their heads.

"Your Grace," said Ser Erryk Cargyll, "Prince Aemond mentioned feeling unwell earlier and likely returned to the castle."

Alec and his twin, Ser Erryk, frequently alternated shifts to avoid confusion, even among those who struggled to tell them apart—Viserys and Ser Criston included.

"No one escorted him?" Viserys's frown deepened.

"Your Grace, I was supposed to escort the prince," admitted Ser Lorent Marbrand, a flicker of unease crossing his face. "But the prince declined. He claimed he didn't need my protection, then said he needed to relieve himself. I watched him enter the lavatories near the tourney grounds before resuming my post by your side."

"You fool," Viserys snapped, immediately understanding how Aemond had evaded the Kingsguard's vigilance.

"What's wrong, dear?" Alicent inquired, noticing her husband's agitation.

"Aemond is missing," Viserys replied tersely.

At that moment, a disheveled Aegon staggered up the stairs. Viserys seized the opportunity and, brushing past Lord Loras Tyrell, leaned close to his eldest son. "Where is Aemond?" he asked in a low tone.

Aegon shrugged. "How would I know? I just came off the field myself. Still sore from it."

Slap!

The sharp sound of a slap immediately drew everyone's attention to the back. Aegon covered his face, looking incredulously at Alicent, who still hadn't lowered her hand.

"Alicent, what are you doing?" Rhaenyra quickly moved past the seat of the other Lords, grabbing Alicent's arm. "The great nobles of the realm are watching. Do you want to disgrace the royal family?"

"What does it have to do with you?" Alicent shot Rhaenyra a glare, her eyes burning with anger as she fixed her gaze on her son. "Where is your brother?"

"I didn't do anything, by the Seven Hells," Aegon raised both hands. "I just got off the field. How would I know where he went? I've been preparing for the joust all afternoon."

"Your Grace, Prince Aemond is down below," Draezell, who had been enjoying the spectacle, pointed toward the lower stands, drawing everyone's attention back to the arena. King Viserys hurriedly crossed over Lord Loras and, in one swift motion, made his way to the rail, panting heavily and staring intently at the field.

The joust had reached its third round. The Greenfire Knight and Daemon had already broken two lances each.

"You're still too green, boy," Daemon slightly raised his lance and thrust it into the Greenfire Knight's chest plate. However, Daemon's steed let out a pained whinny, struck by the broken lance, and the splintered wood embedded deep into its flesh. Seeing his mount injured, Daemon swiftly dismounted, rolling and sprinting toward his squire.

The two knights fell from their horses, with the Greenfire Knight stumbling and rolling in the sand before quickly rising and reaching for his sword. But Daemon was faster, grabbing his iron sword and, without further words, kicked the mysterious knight to the ground before yanking off the knight's helmet.

Silver hair flew in the wind as a sapphire eye gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight.

"Seven Hells," Otto muttered under his breath, though he quickly recovered. The mysterious knight had unseated several Kingsguard and renowned knights. What a story this would make! Otto waved to a minstrel waiting nearby, handing him a bag of silver stags.

"You know what to do," Otto murmured. The minstrel nodded and assured him that songs praising Prince Aemond would be sung by nightfall.

"Daemon!" King Viserys shouted.

"I know," Daemon nodded at his brother, lifting Aemond by his neck armor. "Boy, do you have any idea how dangerous the joust is? Didn't you see what happened to the mercenary knights earlier?"

He referred to the mercenary knights who had been seriously injured in previous matches—one had his skull crushed by a shield, another pierced through the throat by a blunt sword, and two unfortunate ones had their eyes pierced by splintered wood. When they were dragged off the field, they were already dead.

"Let me go! I want my sword!" Aemond struggled in his uncle's grip but couldn't break free.

"Stay put, nephew." Daemon pulled his nephew closer. "If you die, it will break my brother's heart. Surrender now, and I'll send you back to the stands. You've earned enough glory already."

Aemond glared at his uncle in frustration, then reluctantly raised his hand to signal his surrender.

On the other side of the field, the match was also decided.

Artis Royce and Sebastian Pyrebane had broken six lances. In the final moments, Artis unseated Sebastian, then took the advantage in the dismounted combat, securing a swift victory by holding a blade to Sebastian's throat.

Cheers erupted from the Vale knights as Artis celebrated by circling the field.

In the duel between Lord Amos Bracken and Ser Arryk Cargyll, Amos unfortunately lost. They had fought on foot, and the White Knight had overwhelmed him in the close combat. Had it not been for the blunt sword, Lord Amos might have been pierced through the abdomen. He could only surrender in regret.

The Silver Crown Knight unseated Sir Steffon Darklyn, the unfortunate White Knight who was dragged several paces by his own horse, meeting the same fate as his sworn brother. Shortly after, this mysterious knight faced Artis Royce.

The most intense battle, however, was between Ser Criston Cole and Aslan Rondell. The White Knight Captain and Draezell's blood oath brother collided repeatedly for twelve rounds, breaking nine lances without determining a victor. In the end, both men, frustrated, simultaneously discarded their lances and opted for foot combat to settle the match.

Thud, thud, thud, thud.

Criston's Morningstar rained down on Aslan's shield, while Aslan's longsword left streaks of white marks across Criston's armor.

"Brother, shall we start a betting pool?" Valar grinned and leaned in closer. "A few of the lords behind us have already placed their bets. Do you want in?"

"Valar." Diana and Leyla spoke in unison, calling his name.

"A betting pool?" Diana eyed Valar's bulging pouch with suspicion. "Who's covering the stakes? What are the odds, and who's betting on whom?"

Leyla, looking a bit concerned, added, "Money shouldn't be spent carelessly. While the family is wealthy, there are so many places where it's needed right now."

"Uh…" Valar faltered. "It's just for fun, really. Just now, Lord Bartimos and Lord Lyman opened a pool. Lord Lyman even won twenty gold dragons from Lord Hobart Hightower."

"Who's everyone betting on now?" Draezell glanced back at Valarys's pouch.

"Queen Alicent is betting on Ser Criston. She put down a hundred gold dragons. Many are betting on Aslan. I've got bets on both Aslan and Artis's match. The Vale and the North are betting on Artis to win, while our people, along with those from Storm's End and the Reach, are betting on Aslan to win."

Before he could finish speaking, a deafening cheer erupted from the crowd.