We Bleed Silver(GOT/ASOIAF Fanfic)

"Lord Hobert, do you think House Hightower can still endure?" Samantha Tarly countered. She was the second wife of Lord Ormund Hightower. Before her, Ormund had four children. His eldest son, Lyonel, and second son, Martyn, had died in battle. His third son, Garmund, was far away in Highgarden, likely already captured, slain, or declared a traitor. Otto's branch of the family was reduced to Dowager Queen Alicent in King's Landing, and Lord Hobert's sons were nearly all gone. The sons of the old Lord Hightower, Ormund Grandfather, were estimated to have died out, and Hobart was the only one left of his brothers' children. The Hightowers they arranged in the church and the Citadel were estimated to be in danger.

"I will accept whatever punishment Queen Rhaenyra deems fit, be it the executioner's blade or the black." Hobert knew that, by Westerosi noble standards, Garmund was unlikely to be executed, which meant House Hightower still had hope. "All I ask is that you care for Bethany and the girls. You are Prince Draezell's sister-in-law; he will surely honor your wishes."

Samantha Tarly watched as Hobert Hightower resolutely left the room. She shook her head and turned to embrace her stepdaughter, Bethany, who had just awakened.

"Mother, what's happening? Where are Father and my brothers?"

"It's nothing, nothing at all," Samantha murmured as she gently patted the little girl's back.

The Queen's quartered banner was raised above Oldtown.

---

Lord Thaddeus Rowan gestured for the trembling Garmund Hightower to step forward. Before the thirteen-year-old stood a middle-aged Hightower with severed legs, leaning on an infantryman's halberd. He was the fifth son of old Lord Hightower and the captain of the city watch defending the gates.

"Child, kill him, and you will prove your loyalty," said Axell Florent, a man with a long face, pointed chin, and large, protruding ears. He had joined the campaign with 900 cavalry and 1,800 infantry after the Valley of Flowers Battle.

Lady Jenny Fossoway and Ser Harwin Tyrell observed the scene with interest. Garmund Hightower was a sullen and shy boy who had been placed as a cupbearer and attendant to the late Lord Loras Tyrell by Lord Ormund to act as his spy. However, Garmund had never disclosed any of Lord Loras's secrets. After the Valley Of Flower Battle, House Tyrell raised the Queen's quartered banner and pledged to fight for her cause. Terrified, Garmund had almost drowned himself in a fountain, only to be discovered by Ser Harwin just in time.

After a night of reflection, Garmund decided to join the Tyrell forces and fight against his own family.

The middle-aged Hightower's eyes lit up when he saw Garmund. "Kill me, you little bastard, you idiot, you son of a whore! Is your blade too dull? Give me a quick death!"

Garmund's eyes brimmed with tears as he finally steeled himself, closing his eyes and thrusting the spear at the middle-aged Hightower. The spear slid off the man's breastplate and struck the cobblestone ground, almost causing Garmund to fall.

"Are you blind, you dog-blooded son of a whore?" the man roared. "Open your eyes! My neck is here! Aim for the neck!" He pointed at his throat and shouted.

Garmund gritted his teeth, closed his eyes again, and stabbed toward the middle-aged Hightower's throat.

This time, the spear struck true. Blood gushed from the middle-aged Hightower's neck like a spring, and he closed his eyes in satisfaction.

"Kinslayer," Garmund labeled himself in his heart.

"Garmund, you have proven your loyalty to Her Majesty the Queen," came a voice from above—Jacaerys, who was flying low. Concerned about any remnants of Hightower forces attempting a desperate attack, Jacaerys stayed either high in the skies or low enough to blend into crowds, avoiding potential crossbow bolts. "Trust in the Queen's mercy."

---

The Citadel.

Archmaester Munkun squeezed his thigh firmly, his mask concealing his expression. The members of the Conclave arrived on Isle of Raven by boat one after another. Vermithor lay atop the ancient tower keep, its immense body almost making it seem the structure might collapse under its weight. Even so, the dragon's tail still dangled into the water. Prince Draezell looked at the masked maesters gathered before him.

"Where are the Archmesters of Ravenry, Astronomy, and Medicine?"

"Your Highness, the Archmesters of Ravenry and Astronomy are calculating the onset of winter," replied the trembling Archmaester of Astrology, who wore a bronze mask and carried a bronze staff. "They require detailed and uninterrupted calculations. Therefore, Your Highness, they could not attend. However, we can convey your orders to them. The Archmester of Medicine is on his way, though his academy has encountered issues."

"Very well. Notify all remaining Maesters to seal off the Citadel's archives, collections, and experimental equipment. In three days, my ship will come to collect you. For failing to prevent the Hightower treachery, you must answer to Her Majesty the Queen in King's Landing."

"Your Highness, this is against protocol. The Citadel does not interfere in politics and strictly upholds neutrality," protested the Archmaesters of History and Politics in unison.

Draezell, without even glancing at them, coldly replied, "In three days, you leave with the ship, or today, you leave with Vermithor. My forces will take control of the Citadel immediately." With that, he patted Vermithor, who let out a deafening roar before taking to the skies.

The Archmaesters stared blankly at the retreating dragon, shivering collectively. The Archmester of Mysticism, who wore a Valyrian steel mask, sprang up as though burned. "We need people! The dragon-related documents in the cellar cannot fall into royal hands!"

"Archmaester Rosan, let them find it," said the Archmaester of Warcraft, pulling the Mysticism Archmaester back. "If we insist it's mere dragon research, the crown cannot hold us accountable. But where is Archmaester Korlon? Why isn't he here yet?"

Finally, a small boat hastily docked. Archmaester Korlon rushed out, so hurried that he hadn't even brought his silver staff. "Something terrible has happened!"

"What is it?" The gathered Archmaesters crowded around, and Archmaester Munkun recounted the situation earlier. Before he could finish, Archmaester Korlon's despairing cry echoed across Raven's Isle.

"The specimens of shivering sickness and Dragonpox from the ice cellar are missing!" Korlon shouted in panic. "Judging by the state of the cellar doors, they've been gone for at least three weeks!"

"Seven hells!"

---

Vermithor and Vermax met in the air, their silver wings continuing to patrol the city. A white flag now hung over the Hightower. Samantha Tarly led the last surviving girls of House Hightower and Hobert Hightower barefoot out of the tower.

Before deciding House Hightower fate, Draezell had more pressing matters to attend to: Helaena and her three children. Vermithor landed beside Dreamfyre, and with just a glance, the blue dragon retreated several paces in fear.

Draezell and Jacaerys entered the great Starry Sept. None of the septons dared look at the Dragonrider clad in Valyrian steel armor, carrying the Valyrian steel sword Silverblood. Together, they strode down the hall to face Queen Helaena and the High Septon. Draezell respectfully drew a seven-pointed star on his chest.

"Your Highness, the Faith has never supported the usurper's claim to the throne," the High Septon began, relieved that Draezell had not immediately drawn his blade. "The septons who attended the usurper's coronation in King's Landing have been excommunicated. The Hightower traitors within the Faith have been executed by loyalist septons in service to the warrior's justice. Their bodies are in the back if you wish to inspect them—"

"That won't be necessary, Your Grace," Draezell interrupted, sensing the presence of over a dozen corpses in the back. They were indeed of Hightower blood. "I believe in the Faith's sincerity, but the Faith must prove its commitment to Her Majesty the Queen." His deep violet eyes pierced through the High Septon, making the man shiver.

"Of course, Your Highness. Please, state your request."

"The High Septon and the College of Cardinals must travel to King's Landing," Jacaerys interjected, courteously kissing the High Septon's hand before his tone turned icy. "My mother's coronation requires the High Septon's blessing. She believes the grace of the Seven is essential for a true monarch. Furthermore, the people of King's Landing eagerly await a glimpse of your holiness."

The High Septon immediately understood Jacaerys' intent. The Starry Sept of Oldtown might soon be consigned to history.

"I understand, Your Grace. The Faith will fully support Her Majesty's rule."

As Prince Jacaerys negotiated with the High Septon, Draezell approached Helaena.

"Cousin Draezell, I saw Aegon die in the flames," Helaena said, opening her lifeless eyes. "I saw my mother fall from the tower. I saw my children's soulless eyes. Tell me, cousin, will you kill my children?"

"Their only crime was being born at the wrong time, into the wrong family," Draezell sighed as he sat beside her. "But the children are innocent. If they swear holy oaths, renounce the Targaryen name, and live under my or the crown's supervision for the rest of their lives, they can survive. Maelor and Jaehaerys might become Kingsguard knights, royal attendants, or accomplished Maesters. Jaehaera might become an exceptional septa. The realm can tolerate their survival, as can I."

"I understand. Thank you, cousin. And what of House Hightower?" Helaena nodded lightly, asking not about her fate but about her mother's family.

"House Hightower's crime is treason, my dear niece," Draezell said, shaking his head. "Only Garmund will survive due to his deeds. The Hightower lands, including the Hightower and Oldtown, will be entirely confiscated. Ser Hobert will face trial to decide whether he is executed or sent to the Wall. Additionally, House Hightower must pay reparations for the treasury and crown funds they stole. The girls will be sent to the Silent Sisters or serve as septas. As for Garmund, I will grant him a parcel of land on Ghaston Grey as a reward for his actions, but I will decide his future wife. Hopefully, the wealth of House Hightower will suffice to pay the fines; otherwise, poor Garmund and his descendants will bear the debt for generations. Of course, this is a proposal Jacaerys and I agreed upon — the final decision lies with Queen Rhaenyra."

"On behalf of my mother's house, I thank you for your mercy." Helaena understood that Draezell, with his current power to shape the realm's future, was the only one who could protect her children.

"Are you not curious about your own fate?" Draezell asked with a long sigh. He could see that the frequent use of dragon dreams had worsened the magical corruption in Helaena's body.

"I won't live much longer, cousin. You told me so yourself." Helaena smiled as she looked at her children, oblivious and playing nearby. "I will trade my life for their survival."

"That's unnecessary," Draezell said softly.

"It is a mother's final gift to her children," Helaena replied, still smiling, though Draezell could see the glimmer of tears in her eyes.

"I hope they grow up forgetting who their parents were."