We Bleed Silver(GOT/ASOIAF Fanfic)

Time's relentless march spares no one, and many curse it as the cruelest of this world's torments. Seeds ripen into harvests, children grow into youth. Some grudges fade with time, while others flourish under its nurturing.

King Viserys celebrated the triumphant conquest of Dorne with a grand feast, but the guest he most longed to see did not attend. Aemond, along with Aegon the Elder, had departed Oldtown and visited every castle in the Reach and the Westerlands before arriving at Riverrun for a feast hosted by the aging Lord Grover Tully in honor of the two princes. Meanwhile, Princess Rhaenyra busied herself traveling to Dorne's castles to accept oaths of fealty from its lords.

The Dornish were utterly exhausted. Even among the common folk, open disdain for Princess Meria Martell—the "Yellow Toad" who had once led Dorne's resistance against Aegon the Conqueror—spread uncontrollably.

The Martells did little to stem this tide. They too were weary, and allowing such sentiment served as a subtle signal. Furthermore, the Iron Throne's concessions to Dorne were remarkably generous. The Martells, proud as they were, understood when to relent. Princess Rhaenyra's goodwill also eased tensions: her son, Joffrey Velaryon, was betrothed to Princess Aliandra of Dorne, promising a union between dragon and sun to end millennia of border conflict.

The lords of the Marches found their rage assuaged as well. Years of warfare had left nearly every Dornish house along the border barren of heirs, their castles reduced to ruins, their ancient bloodlines snuffed out by swords and dragonfire.

For the first time in years, peace prevailed. In the verdant lands of the Bay of Dorne, open-air feasts were held. Dornish guests adhered to decorum as never before. Prince Qoren Martell himself played music for the gathering, while Albain Dayne entertained as a bard. A friendly sparring match was even arranged between Lord Doran Gargalen and Alan Tarly, two young men who quickly bonded and declared themselves fast friends.

Yet true peace remained elusive. House Yronwood had left behind a monumental mess. While the Daynes had suffered little during the war and began consolidating their gains, the Martells faced monumental losses. The task of reclaiming villages and castles fell to them, all while contending with Yronwood loyalists launching surprise attacks from the sands.

These rebels dared not strike the Vaelarys fortified silver-blooded estates, which provided soldiers for the Silverblood armies. Each estate housed at least two cavalrymen and around fifteen infantry, making them impregnable to scattered insurgents. Instead, the loyalists targeted defenseless Dornish villages, forcing many to seek the protection of the Silverblood estates.

Time's wheel turned steadily onward. The year 127 AC began amidst the fireworks over the Bay of Dorne.

Following the grand feast, Princess Rhaenyra and her husband returned to Dragonstone. Before reaching their castle, they stopped in King's Landing.

There, tragedy struck. King Viserys's trusted companion and Grand Maester, Mellos, suffered a fatal accident, tumbling down a staircase. Elderly and frail, the Grand Maester fell into a coma despite the Citadel's best efforts to save him. But even their knowledge could not fend off the Stranger, who ultimately claimed him.

After learning of his old friend's passing, King Viserys, already frail, grew even weaker. What pained him more was yet another quarrel between his beloved daughter, Princess Rhaenyra, and his queen, Alicent Hightower—this time over the appointment of a Grand Maester to the Iron Throne.

Rhaenyra recommended Grand Maester Gerardys of Dragonstone, while the queen insisted on Alfador from the Tower of the Sun. Exhausted, the king ultimately accepted neither. Instead, he deferred to the Citadel's council, which elected Maester Orwyle—a venerable scholar with a beard flowing to his chest.

Under Orwyle's treatment with potions and elixirs, King Viserys experienced some improvement in early 127 AC. Though gout, paralysis, coughing fits, chest pain, and insomnia still plagued him, his condition stabilized. However, he never again sat upon the Iron Throne. Governance of the realm fell to the Small Council.

Perhaps sensing his decline, King Viserys preferred spending time with his family and his jester, "Mushroom," who filled the air with lewd jokes but occasionally profound wisdom. The king's greatest joy came from the birth of another grandchild. Princess Helaena gave birth to Prince Maelor, though, sadly, the dragon egg placed in his cradle failed to hatch.

Meanwhile, Draezell continued to consolidate his vast holdings. The wealth of House Vaelarys provided a solid foundation, one that seemed only to grow despite significant expenditures. Draezell shared Diana's sentiment: "Gold gathering dust in the vault is meaningless."

Construction finally began on Silvercrown City, a city rising between the ruins of The Yronwood Castle. House Vaelarys recruited destitute Dornishmen with bread, beer, and copper coins, offering hope to those whose fields had yielded nothing during the war.

The first completed district was Silverport, a massive harbor second only to the family's naval stronghold, Silver Dragonport. Then came the Windbreak District, Blackbread District, and Tree Pit District where civilians lived. These three areas were built along the port. Although they were messy and not as neat as Summerhall, they were countless times better than King's Landing.

Draezell personally rode a dragon and built a much smaller but more beautiful castle called "SilverCrown Keep" on top of the Red Mountains, modeled after Dragon's Nest. If it weren't so hot here, this location would be much better than Dragon's Nest and Summer Hall, both in terms of geographical location, military, and political perspectives.

In 128 AC, Valar and Leyla celebrated the birth of their first child, a beautiful girl with shimmering silver-gold hair and pale violet eyes that gleamed like morning stars. Valar named her Daenyra, a common Valyrian name for girls.

A silver-winged dragon egg hatched at the moment of Daenyra's birth, producing a pure white hatchling. Its scales were flawless, its wings unblemished silver-white. Unlike her cousin Rhaegor's dragon, which bore prominent horns, this dragon had a crest of spiny ridges running from her head to her tail. Her dorsal fins stood tall and firm from the moment of her hatching.

As the realm ushered in the welcoming year of 129 AC with bonfires and feast. King Viserys could already see the Stranger beckoning to him.

Meanwhile, Princess Rhaenyra, back at Dragonstone, carried another child.

129 AC, day 3 of the Third Moon

King's Landing, Red Keep, Maegor's Holdfast

Princess Helaena arrived with her children at the door to the king's chamber. She hadn't had those maddening dreams in a long while, but last night they returned—the familiar vision of the bear resting peacefully on the Iron Throne, and black and green flames consuming everything in their path.

"Father, I've brought the children to see you."

A faint murmur came from within, and Helaena knew it was her father granting them permission to enter. She gently pushed the door open.

The usual scents of poppy milk and boiled wine were absent from the chamber. King Viserys sat in his specially made reclining chair, his remaining eye barely open. Yet his face still radiated love, a rare warmth Helaena hadn't seen in some time.

"Rhaenyra—" the king murmured, struggling to sit up. "Oh, forgive me, Helaena. Come, bring the children closer."

He smiled as he gently nuzzled the nose of the youngest child, who responded with a loud wail. The king chuckled weakly and removed a pearl ring from his finger, offering it to the little prince. The boy's tears ceased instantly, and his eyes gleamed as he began to play with his new treasure.

"Father, do you need—"

The king shook his head firmly. "I've already seen Him beckoning me," he said with a sigh. "Helaena, how I wish my children could remain carefree like this forever."

"Father…"

"Children, would you like to hear a story?" the king asked, pulling the two older ones close with a soft smile.

Jaehaerys nodded eagerly. "I want to hear the tale of how Great-Grandfather fought the wildlings and the giants!"

"Ah, yes, a fine story…"

Helaena sat quietly, listening to a tale she'd heard dozens of times before. Yet as her father spoke, she suddenly felt something wet on her cheeks. Before she could wipe it away, the king broke into a fit of coughing.

"Go now," he whispered hoarsely. "Let the children rest early tonight. A storm's coming—it may frighten them." He cast a weary glance at the darkening window.

Helaena nodded, leading the children away. She turned back several times as they left, reluctant to close the door behind them.

Viserys stared out the window, faint flashes of lightning illuminating the gathering storm. Slowly, he closed his eye.

"Rhaenyra… Rhaenyra… Rhaenyra… Daemon…"

BOOM.

A crack of thunder shattered the stillness before the storm.

--

If you can, support me on pa treon:

Pa treon. com/ RightTranslations (No spaces)

Up to 50 chapters ahead on the four novels i am translating.