We Bleed Silver(GOT/ASOIAF Fanfic)

Outside the camp near Oldtown, Archmaester Korlon had tried every method imaginable to bring down Jaehaerys's fever, from cold compresses to potions, but the boy's high fever remained unrelenting. He lay limp on the bed, delirious, his small body fragile and weak. Helaena sat anxiously outside the tent, glancing inside from time to time. Draezell, however, looked at the child with a mixture of pity and concern. He could sense that something was wrong with the boy's blood — it seemed to be burning. This was no ordinary illness, nor did it resemble the symptoms of blood fever.

"Does the boy have a dragon?" Draezell asked thoughtfully, recalling that Helaena's twins had bonded with hatchlings upon their birth.

Helaena nodded. "Jaehaerys was born frail, especially with six fingers and toes on each limb." She wiped at the corner of her eyes. "He nearly died at birth. If it weren't for Shrykos successfully hatching, he wouldn't have lived to see today."

Draezell frowned, glancing back at the boy in the tent. A dragon's hatching granting health to a malformed child? Had the Targaryens' dragon-bonding techniques deteriorated so much? It seemed they now relied on the resonance between dragon eggs and the family's blood to hatch dragons. While effective, it came at a cost. If the dragon died, the rider's health would fail due to the loss of the bond that had initially sustained them.

True Valyrian dragonlords rarely used such methods, as it consumed the magical energy in the bloodline. Instead, they preferred two approaches: either utilizing the vast magical elements around the Fourteen Flames to assist in hatching dragon eggs, or performing a special ritual at the child's birth to awaken their bloodline, creating resonance that allowed for hatching even with limited magical resources. This ensured a close bond without the over-reliance that could result in mutual destruction — a more intricate version of the companion-dragon method.

The Vaelarys used this more refined method, utilizing Dragon's Nest unique structure and the magical energy of the Red Mountains to construct their dragon-hatching ritual sites. This controlled the number of dragons hatched while assessing the magical potential of a child's bloodline — a twofold benefit.

But such knowledge could not be allowed to reach the Targaryens.

"So, could it be that something has happened to Shrykos?" Draezell murmured, rubbing his chin.

"Likely, Your Highness," said Archmaester Munkun, striding toward Draezell with a grim expression. From his sleeve, he withdrew a sealed letter. "Your Highness, a message from King's Landing."

Draezell accepted the letter. The archmaesters had become unusually compliant of late. Vansen Kaon and Alan Tarly had personally led troops into the Citadel, dragging out one conspirator after another to be publicly executed. By Jacaerys's decree, issued in his mother's name, the Citadel had been stripped of its right to grant chains for two years, and all assistant maesters were required to continue their studies for an additional two years to purge any potential corruption.

Unfolding the letter, Draezell scanned its contents briefly before closing it again. "Does young Jaehaerys know?"

Archmaester Munkun nodded. "The prince — no, the king — has been informed. He's in his tent now."

"Let him grieve," Draezell said softly. "He's just a boy. Losing his mother would leave anyone heartbroken."

The letter detailed the calamities in King's Landing. The plague had broken out, spreading beyond the city, leading to riots among the populace. Queen Dowager Alicent had taken her own life, while the mob had killed Shrykos. The chaos was ultimately quelled by the dragons, but Queen Rhaenyra had succumbed to the Shivers, passing away after only a day and a night. Before her death, Rhaenyra had reaffirmed her will, appointing Draezell as Hand of the King to Jacaerys and requesting him to act as guardian to Aegon and Viserys. She had also tasked Draezell with crowning Jacaerys.

The letter described how, upon the queen's death, Syrax mourned her deeply, circling the Red Keep seven times, her anguished cries echoing throughout King's Landing. Even after Rhaenyra's body was cremated, the amber-colored dragon remained by the Red Keep, refusing to leave.

Helaena, sensing something was wrong, turned to Draezell. "Has something happened in King's Landing?"

Draezell nodded solemnly. "I'm afraid so. Your mother is dead, as is Jaehaerys's mother. And... Shrykos as well."

Helaena lowered her head, as though expecting the news. "It seems I've failed to protect my children after all."

Archmaester Korlon emerged from the tent, shaking his head. "Your Highness, I've tried everything to reduce the prince's fever." He hesitated, glancing at Draezell for confirmation before continuing. "The prince doesn't have much time left. If you wish to see him one last time, now would be the best moment."

Helaena froze for a moment before lifting her skirts and rushing into her son's tent.

The sound of Helena's heart-wrenching cries soon echoed from within the tent. Draezell sighed deeply and turned toward Jacaerys' tent, where Valar was comforting the young prince, who was clutching him tightly and silently shedding tears. Draezell approached, seating himself cross-legged beside Jacaerys.

"Ser, I no longer have a mother," Jacaerys said, his voice choked with emotion. Draezell remained silent, uncertain of what to say. He, too, had no parents — neither mother nor father. Over the years, he'd taken on the role of a father figure for Valar and Rey, while his own parents were but distant memories. Gently, he placed his hand on Jacaerys' head, attempting to offer the prince some measure of comfort.

"Ser, do you think... I can be a good king?" After a long pause, Jacaerys finally wiped his tears and spoke in a small voice.

"I told you once before," Draezell replied with a smile, flicking the young prince's forehead lightly. "Have you forgotten?"

"I haven't." Jacaerys lifted his head. "I'll show the people through my deeds that my hair color doesn't determine my worth as a king. I can bear the weight of the crown. Ser, will you support me?"

"Tell me your plan, little Jace." Draezell knew the prince must have thought this through to speak so confidently. He looked at Jacaerys, whose reddened eyes still glimmered with determination.

"My mother forbade me from returning to King's Landing until the plague ends. So, I won't return yet. Ser, I'd like to ask you to accompany me. After we judge the traitors at Harrenhal, I want to travel across the kingdom. I want to solve problems for the people and the lords, helping them move past the shadow of war and plague. Winter is coming, and we must prepare."

"Good lad," Draezell said warmly, momentarily forgetting he was less than ten years older than Jacaerys. "Go ahead, but think it through. The Shivers plague has spread to the Riverlands and the Stormlands. You'll be putting yourself in danger." Draezell pointed to himself. "I have blood magic to protect me from most illnesses, Except Greyscale. For you, it's a much greater risk."

"I've made up my mind," Jacaerys declared firmly.

Valar, sensing the shift in mood, refrained from laughing aloud and instead gave Jacaerys a hearty pat on the back. "That's more like the kind of boy my brother would raise. I support you."

"Once the trial at Harrenhal is over, you're heading straight back to Dragon's Nest," Draezell said, delivering a playful flick to Valar's forehead. "Dumping everything on your little brother — isn't that shameful?"

Valar rubbed his head, sticking his tongue out slightly. "Got it, brother. Besides, letting Rey take on more responsibility won't hurt."

Watching the familiar banter between the two brothers, Jacaerys felt his grief lighten slightly. But he knew there was much work to be done.

Due to the Citadel's crimes and the plague in King's Landing, the planned voyage to the capital was canceled. Draezell ordered the infantry to remain behind, while nobles escorted the Citadel's archmaesters and Maester and "guarded" the High Septon, pressing forward with a cavalry unit toward Harrenhal. Draezell, Valar, and Jacaerys took flight on their dragons to reach the castle ahead of the main force.

Harrenhal, vast and foreboding, was now the center of pivotal events. Lord Borros Baratheon of the Stormlands, along with his daughters and bannermen, was also compelled to travel north to stand trial for their crimes, which included allowing Lucerys' death and supporting traitors.

In the end, little Jaehaerys succumbed to his fever. Helena, overcome with grief, allowed Dreamfyre to cremate her firstborn. Witnessing her brother's funeral marked by dragonfire, Jaehaenyra grew increasingly silent and withdrawn.

As the sun rose and set, the plague continued to spread. Nobles avoided villages likely ravaged by the sickness, but eventually, they gathered from all corners of the realm at Harrenhal.

In the Hall of a Hundred Hearths, Vermithor coiled above the grand chamber's vaulted ceiling, observing the bustling crowd below. His immense presence caused even Harrenhal's towering structures to tremble. Jacaerys' Vermax lay crouched behind him, vigilant over the assembly. Silverwing soared above, occasionally perching on a tower before resuming her aerial patrol.

Draezell prepared a simple coronation for Jacaerys. With no crown at hand, he instructed the House Strong's smiths to forge a makeshift one from the steel tips of Westerlands swords and a Valyrian steel ring. After the High Septon anointed the prince with holy oils, Draezell personally placed the crude crown upon Jacaerys' head.

"Behold Jacaerys, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, of House Targaryen, Jacaerys the First!"

The crowd drew their swords and lowered them before their king, pledging their allegiance.

But there was no Iron Throne here, nor the traditional procession around the city that marked a king's ascension. Technically, Jacaerys had not completed all the coronation rites.

With the steel-ringed, iron-sword crown resting on his head, Jacaerys gazed down at the gathered lords beneath Harren the Black's throne. Nodding to Draezell, he signaled the start of the Great Trial.

Draezell donned his Valyrian steel armor, Dragonknight, with a luxurious purple cloak embroidered with silver dragons and laurel leaves. A silver-blood sword hung at his side as his cold gaze swept over the assembled nobility.

"Let us begin with punishments. Hobert Hightower, step forward."

Hobert Hightower, dressed in tattered clothing, was escorted before the throne by two knights, his head hanging low in despair.

"The Hightower's treason is irrefutably proven. Their lands and titles are hereby stripped. For the heinous crime of embezzling from the royal treasury, they are fined 1.65 million golden dragons. As the primary instigator has already been executed, Hobert, you now face a choice: will you atone with your blood, or don the black and serve the realm?"

Hobert let out a bitter laugh. "Your Grace, as much as I wish to live, I'd rather die in the warmth of the South."

Draezell nodded, and Cregan Stark stepped forward with a sigh. With one clean stroke of Ice, the execution was done. The black-clad men of the Night's Watch standing nearby lowered their heads in silence.

"Next, the Lannisters," Draezell announced as Lord Jason Lannister and the nobles of the Westerlands approached, stopping beside Hobert's lifeless body.

"The treachery of the Westerland houses is also well-documented. However, given their ultimate decision to bend the knee..." Draezell turned to Jacaerys, signaling that this was the king's burden to address.

A king must not only punish but also lift those who submit, turning enemies into allies.

"Thus," Jacaerys began, "the lands of the noble houses of the Westerlands may remain under their care. However, the heads of each house must abdicate, don the black, and serve at the Wall. Additionally, the gold mines and ports of the Westerlands will be under royal administration for a time, and a fine of one million golden dragons will be imposed."

"Your Grace, we are grateful for your mercy," Lord Jason said with a long exhale, the tension finally lifting.

"And now, Lord Borros Baratheon." Draezell's gaze fell on Borros, who stood silent with his head bowed. "Do not worry; your crimes are lesser. The Crown only requires you to relinquish control of Nightsong. It is now part of my domain as punishment for your inaction and for aiding the usurpers."

Lord Borros glanced at the dragons looming above and dared not protest. Nightsong was already in the hands of Lynn Valtaken, and reclaiming it was beyond him. He could only submit.

"Princess Helaena Targaryen, Prince Maelor Targaryen, and Princess Jaehaenyra Targaryen," Draezell called. "Step forward to receive your punishment."

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