We Bleed Silver(GOT/ASOIAF Fanfic)

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

Situated at the very heart of the Red Keep, this square fortress, named after the infamous tyrant, Maegor the Cruel, was protected by twelve-foot-thick walls and a dry moat bristling with iron spikes. It served as the residence for the king and members of the royal family, a citadel within a citadel.

The night was tranquil.

Outside the chambers of the princes and princesses, Viserys I and Queen Alicent's eldest son, Aegon (hereafter referred to as "Aegon the Elder" to distinguish him from Princess Rhaenyra's son), sat quietly by the window. His cheeks were flushed, and his youthful face—framed by a cascade of silvery hair—was undeniably handsome, though marred by an evident fondness for drink. Before him, several empty wine jugs cluttered the table, yet Aegon continued to swirl the silver liquid in his goblet. His lilac eyes gazed at the moonlight outside, unusually clear for someone so evidently inebriated.

"Aegon, what are you doing?" A woman's incredulous yet faintly relieved voice echoed from the corridor. Startled, Aegon the Elder hastily shifted his gaze, gulped down a mouthful of wine, and slumped back into his chair.

Queen Alicent stormed toward him, her expression a mixture of anger and exasperation. She stopped before her son, who reeked of alcohol and lay sprawled across the chair. She opened her mouth to speak but caught sight of the tightly shut door behind him. Drawing a deep breath, she shot her son a venomous glare, said nothing, and swept away in a flurry of skirts.

Only after his mother's footsteps receded did Aegon stir. Rising from his feigned stupor, he seemed lost in thought.

Eventually, he grabbed another wine jug and drank deeply, not once sparing a glance at the door behind him.

Inside the room, his new wife, Helaena Targaryen, lay wrapped in blankets by the fireplace. The hearth and braziers burned brightly, casting flickering shadows over her soft, round face.

The young girl slept peacefully.

In her dreams, Helaena was no longer a princess bound by duty and expectations. She was a joyous little bird, flitting freely amidst the flames. Here, there was no nagging mother, no cold and calculating grandfather Otto, no complicated brother-husband Aegon, nor brooding younger brother Aemond.

She soared over her fiery dreamscape, though in her mind's eye, the flames were not flames at all, but a forest teeming with flowers, vines, and towering ancient trees. Nearby, a kindly bear with dragon scales and a crown upon its head watched her with a gentle smile. Yet the bear's body was pinned down by countless invisible swords.

Helaena paused, her heart heavy as she stared at the Iron Throne's swords impaling the bear. Then her gaze shifted to three spirited chipmunks.

One leapt tirelessly among the branches, unable to approach the throne bristling with swords.

The second raced madly toward the woods where the stag roamed but was snatched up and dragged into a pond by a one-eyed wolf.

The third stood aimlessly in the forest, oblivious to the venomous snakes and crows encircling it.

The little bird tried to issue a warning, but her efforts were futile. The wind gently carried her deeper into the forest.

She saw a flash of crimson. The red extended upward, darkening until it transformed into a profound black. Before her loomed an immense castle.

This was the third time she had seen this castle in her dreams. The previous two times, the vision ended at its gates. But this time, the gates stood wide open.

And so, she flew inside.

Blood. Blood was splattered everywhere. Snakes were severed into pieces, vultures pierced by spears, and a green dragon wailed in the flames.

"Ah!"

The girl covered her mouth in the midst of the carnage. It was her first time witnessing such a gruesome scene in her dreams.

"Girl. Dragon. Villain. Curse. Life," the green dragon roared amidst the flames, its voice rolling like thunder.

Then, a silver claw pressed it back into the inferno.

Slowly, a massive silver dragon emerged from the blood-soaked castle, towering above the trembling girl who clutched herself tightly. Its radiant form remained spotless, untouched by the sea of blood.

"You've entered my dream for the third time, Targaryen dreamwalker. Has no one taught you that invading a Wizards dreams to glimpse the future is dangerous, my... niece?" The silver dragon paused, as though considering its words.

Helaena frantically searched her thoughts and quickly realized who this silver dragon might represent. The memory of her recent meeting with their new cousin, Draezell Vaelarys, surfaced. He was just a few years older than her—a young man who had arrived in King's Landing astride Vermithor, the second-largest living dragon. On that day, when Vhagar and Vermithor danced together in the skies, the elderly folk of the city whispered that it was as though two Black Deaths had risen again.

Draezell and his two younger brothers were strikingly handsome and impeccably courteous. During their visit to court, they gifted Aegon the Elder several casks of fine wine and boxes of jewels, presented Helaena with crates of books and silken brocades, and prepared treasures, weapons, and books for Aemond and the young Prince Daeron in the South.

Helaena thought they were rather agreeable, but she had no concept of what a Wizard might be. All she knew was that some symbolic elements from her dreams would often manifest in reality shortly after.

"I apologize, Uncle Draezell," Helaena said hurriedly, lifting the hem of her gown in a small curtsy to the silver dragon. "I don't understand what you mean by dreamwalker or anything of the sort. If I've disturbed you, I am truly sorry."

The dragon slowly lowered its massive head. "Have the Targaryens truly fallen so far in their knowledge of magic? Your ancestors relied on the gift of dreamwalkers to escape the Doom of Valyria, something many once-great dragonlord families could only dream of achieving. And yet, here you are, neglecting the talent of a new dreamwalker. What a waste."

The dragon extended its long neck, circling around the young girl, before withdrawing again. "If you wish to stop having these strange dreams, you should sleep in cooler places. But if you wish to master this ability..." The silver dragon snorted coldly, its voice tinged with disdain, but it continued nonetheless. "You may continue connecting to my dreams through this method."

"That is, if you can withstand the magical storms of a blood wizard and dragonrider's dream."

Helaena only then noticed that her body was drenched in blood. An invisible force flung her out of the castle, and the once-lush forest suddenly erupted into flames.

"Hu... hu... hu..."

Helaena woke with a start, her body covered in sweat. She glanced at the empty space beside her, decisively extinguished the fire in the brazier and the hearth, and hugged the blanket tightly to herself.

She seemed to be deep in thought.

The silver dragon remained in the dream, gazing at the open gates of the castle. Slowly, the gates began to close. Upon the pale wooden doors, a human face emerged, its features grotesquely distorted. Crimson tears trickled from where its eyes should have been, pooling and halting on the surface of the face.

The face stared silently at the silver dragon.

"An anomaly," the face spoke suddenly, its voice muddled but perfectly clear to Draezell. "You are the foreign anomaly."

"The Old Gods of Westeros?" Draezell recognized the intruder in his dream.

The face gave no response. "At the right time, we will meet again. Remember your purpose."

The face and the dream dissipated like the ebbing tide.

Draezell opened his eyes. His new squire, Prince Jacaerys, was scrubbing his Valyrian steel armor, "Dragonknight," with sand, wearing an expression of admiration.

"Brother, Lord Dondarrion has arrived. We can depart now."

Valar, fully armed, pushed the door open and shouted boisterously.

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