We Bleed Silver(GOT/ASOIAF Fanfic)

"Who's going first?" Aslan Rondell asked, his expression unreadable as he surveyed the two princes before him.

Jacaerys swallowed hard, recalling the sight of Aslan charging into battle with the Lion King blade in hand. Though young, the silver-haired boy was already a formidable warrior.

Standing nearby, Hoffa Lawkeeper tossed a wooden sword to Jacaerys. The boy caught it deftly and twirled it once, fixing his gaze firmly on Aslan's movements.

"Begin," Hoffa commanded, lowering his wooden spear sharply.

Aslan sprang into motion, surging forward with his wooden sword raised. Jacaerys barely managed to block the first strike, but Aslan's relentless assault followed immediately with a second and third blow. Each strike was faster and more aggressive than the last, never landing in the same spot twice. Before long, Jacaerys was struggling to hold his ground.

Aslan's wooden sword parried Jacaerys's, then struck the prince hard across the waist. Jacaerys grunted in pain but steadied himself, countering with a wild swing at Aslan, whose blade hadn't yet been fully withdrawn.

Thud. Thud.

The first sound came as Aslan caught Jacaerys's sword arm with one hand. The second followed as Aslan jabbed his wooden sword into the prince's chest with the other.

Lucerys clenched his fists, his palms damp with sweat. "Don't worry," Valar reassured his young attendant, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Aslan knows what he's doing."

Jacaerys wrenched his arm free from Aslan's grip. Ignoring the pain, he switched his grip on the wooden sword, aiming for Aslan's exposed underarm. But the strike was blocked with practiced ease.

"Chipmunk," Aslan taunted, delivering another strike across Jacaerys's back. "A brown-haired Valyrian dragonlord? If not for your dragon, the rumors would've already drowned you."

Jacaerys ignored the remark, focusing instead on breaking through Aslan's defense.

"Idiot, watch my footwork." Aslan struck Jacaerys's wrist, but the young prince gritted his teeth and held firm, refusing to drop his weapon. Seizing the opportunity when Aslan's guard was momentarily down, Jacaerys threw a punch that landed squarely on Aslan's chest, causing him to stagger back.

"Now that's more like it," Aslan said with a grin. "Show me what you've got. Knock me down and earn their respect."

The wooden swords clashed repeatedly, sending splinters flying as Jacaerys endured blow after blow, searching for an opening in Aslan's defenses.

Finally, he saw it.

Mustered all his strength, Jacaerys gripped the sword with both hands and struck upward even as another blow landed on his shoulder. His attack disarmed them both, sending their wooden swords spinning from their hands. Without hesitation, Jacaerys lunged forward, headbutting Aslan squarely in the chest.

The two boys tumbled to the ground, grappling in the dirt and resorting to fists.

"Good!" Aslan barked, blocking one of Jacaerys's punches with his arm. He rolled swiftly, pinning the younger boy beneath him. "The prince told me to remind you: the only thing that can silence rumors is your strength."

Before he could say more, Jacaerys rammed his head into Aslan's chest again, reversing their positions. "I know I'm different," Jacaerys growled through gritted teeth. "All I have are my mother, my brothers, and my dragon."

"So what?" Aslan retorted, struggling free and flipping Jacaerys back down. "Lynn is a bastard. Sebastian, Amos, and Hoffa were all slaves. I may look more Valyrian than you, but neither Tigarro nor I have dragons." He punched Jacaerys in the arm shielding his head, only to be pulled aside by the prince, who used the moment to yank him off balance.

The two continued their scuffle, neither yielding.

"As long as you're strong enough," Aslan continued, breathless, "all the rumors in the world will be just that—rumors."

From a distance, Draezell and Daemon watched the scene unfold.

"You've surrounded yourself with a group of… young," Daemon paused, searching for the right word, "but promising retainers."

Draezell observed the two boys wrestling on the ground. It was clear they weren't fighting to harm, and Jacaerys—despite being outmatched—was holding on through sheer stubbornness.

"Jacaerys has potential," Draezell said with a smile. "Even I have to put in some effort to subdue Aslan."

"I can tell," Daemon replied, his fingers twitching as if itching to join the fight. He held back, unwilling to compromise his knightly pride by intervening.

"Don't worry, cousin," Draezell said. "When Summerhll be completed, I'll host a grand tourney. I hope you'll do me the honor of participating."

"Naturally," Daemon said, eyes still on the sparring youths. "I'll make sure to trouble you as the host."

"It would be my pleasure."

"Time's up!" Hoffa suddenly declared, stepping forward with his long spear. He separated the two combatants with a swift motion. "Prince Jacaerys has lasted long enough under your onslaught, Aslan," the stern boy said, his expression uncharacteristically softening. "Do you recognize his strength?"

"I thought he'd drop after the first hit," Aslan admitted, wiping his face with a rough hand. He extended it, hauling Jacaerys up with surprising ease. "Didn't expect him to hold out this long. Not bad, kid—there's some fight in you."

"Thank you for your teaching," Jacaerys said, breathing heavily.

"Teaching? Nonsense!" Aslan clapped Jacaerys on the shoulder with a broad grin. "That was all you and your stubborn will." He turned to Lucerys, who was standing nervously to the side, his hands trembling. "So, who's next to test our little chipmunk?"

The nickname, courtesy of Rey, had spread among Draezell's inner circle. Most of the group, except for the ever-serious Hoffa, used it affectionately. Lucerys pretended to dislike it but had long since resigned himself to the moniker.

"Don't look at me," said Adams, who was around Lucerys's age. "With my skills, my brother could knock me down with one hand." He glanced around at the others. Sebastian was on the Dornish front lines. The remaining companions were either too inexperienced or so skilled that there'd be no contest.

"I'll do it," the Dothraki boy, Argo, stepped forward, picking up a wooden arakh from the weapon rack. "Little chipmunk, if you can last fifteen rounds under my blade, I'll speak for them in recognizing your ability."

Rey, standing nearby, smirked and whispered in Lucerys's ear, "Learn from Jacaerys. Argo's blade isn't heavy. Just endure, and you'll be fine."

Lucerys nodded seriously and, gripping his wooden sword, walked onto the flat ground.

"Argo, remember to pull your strikes. Begin," Hoffa called, raising his spear as a signal to start.

Argo leaped forward with a burst of speed. Before Lucerys could even raise his sword, the arakh had already slashed across his neck. "Watch yourself," Argo warned. "If this were a real blade, your head would be gone."

Choking from the near-miss, Lucerys staggered but did not fall. He twisted his body and, using his legs for leverage, swung his sword toward Argo's waist.

"Not bad," Argo said, effortlessly sidestepping Lucerys's strike and clashing his blade against Lucerys's wooden sword. "You've got some smarts in a fight."

Another blow landed on Lucerys's left arm. "Keep your eyes on the enemy's sword, or the next hit will be on the arm holding your blade."

Lucerys struggled to block Argo's relentless attacks, each hit landing with a painful thud across his chest, arms, and shoulders. The sharp pain almost made him black out.

"Lucerys, keep going!" Jacaerys shouted, ignoring the dust covering his face as he cheered.

"I'm betting on you, little chipmunk! If you lose, we'll both lose our pocket money!" Rey added, only to be silenced by a sharp glare from Draezell.

As Argo's final strike aimed at Lucerys's head, it stopped mid-swing.

It wasn't that Argo held back—it was Lucerys who, in the final moment, managed to raise his sword just in time, blocking the arakh.

"Argo, confirm the result," Hoffa said, stepping forward and using his spear to separate the two.

"Prince, I recognize your resilience, but your skills still need improvement," Argo said with a smile, brushing the dust off Lucerys's clothes.

Dust and sweat mixed together, caking the faces and bodies of the young men like mud.

As they watched the boys in the courtyard, Draezell formally introduced them to Daemon. "They share a common identity within the Vaelarys household," Draezell said. "They are my blood brothers, much like the blood riders of the Dothraki. I consider them close brothers, and they regard me as a brother they can entrust everything to."

Daemon looked at the boys, words on the tip of his tongue, but he chose not to speak them.

After enjoying some lamb, the blood-worm carried Daemon northward. As they watched the massive red dragon vanish, Draezell approached Jacaerys, who was preparing to bathe.

"Jacaerys, your Vermax can carry people now, right?"

Jacaerys nodded. "It's grown a bit faster since coming to Dragon's Nest, but it still can't fly long distances."

"Good," Draezell nodded. "We'll be visiting some noble castles soon. Be ready."

"Understood, my lord," Jacaerys replied respectfully.

At the Summerhall camp, Diana Tarly was reviewing the ledgers. She was currently assisting the accountant Draezell had brought along with financial work.

The young woman was pleased with the job; at least it was flexible and suited her interests.

"Miss, a letter from the Lord." After reconciling with her father, Diana had accepted the knights sent by him to protect her and Alan. These knights were now working at the large construction site.

"Just leave it here."

Once she finished reconciling the last ledger, Diana opened the letter and carefully read its contents.

When she saw that Lord Tarly had recommended her as a potential marriage match for Draezell, her face immediately turned bright red.