We Bleed Silver(GOT/ASOIAF Fanfic)

Lord Ullen Wyl slowly sipped from the cup of Dornish red wine, his mind working through how to resolve the situation without losing face. At first, the Lord had only planned to make a quick profit from Blackhaven, but he hadn't expected to provoke a Dragonrider. In the end, he hadn't gained any wealth and instead found himself in a mess.

House wyl had done its best to recruit around 3,000 soldiers, but after just one battle, they had lost over a thousand—seasoned veterans who had fought on the front lines, only to be incinerated by dragonfire. The remaining soldiers were also stranded and couldn't make it back. The Wyl's military strength had been halved in an instant, compounded by the consequences of their long history of dishonorable actions.

The more Ullen thought about it, the angrier he became, but with no outlet for his rage, he could only drink the wine in his cup. "Where's the wine? More wine!" he called out.

He gestured to his knights, but for some reason, his usual servant was nowhere to be found, and even his son, who usually served the wine, had disappeared. The hall seemed strangely empty—just himself and the knight before him, and no sign of the servants who usually cleaned the castle.

A sudden unease washed over Ullen. "Where did everyone go?"

"My lord, you gave the order to evacuate the townspeople, to prepare for a retreat. Don't you remember?" the knight replied.

"When did I...?" Ullen's voice faltered as he felt something constricting in his throat. In an instant, his airways were filled with something that seemed to be struggling for space, making every breath excruciating. He clawed at his throat, as if doing so would allow him to breathe more easily.

But it was all in vain. Ullen's fingers left red streaks of blood on his neck, his skin turning purple as the suffocating pressure built. His eyes bulged from their sockets, and blood began to ooze from the gashes on his neck. His veins stood out in sharp relief.

He was dying.

The Lord's body slumped from his chair, his bulging eyes locked on the knight who had given him the wine, though he could no longer speak.

The knight calmly walked over to the Lord's side, placing a hand on his face.

"All men must die, my lord."

The corpse on the floor began to dissolve, and the knight rose, his features shifting into the face of Ullen Wyl. Ullen, now in his own form, picked up the discarded clothing from the floor, shouting, "Someone! Anyone!"

At that moment, a male servant, hearing the commotion, hurriedly ascended from the lower tower. Lowering his head, he took the dusty clothes from Ullen's hands. The Lord waved him off. "Tell the lower levels to evacuate the castle, with the townspeople."

The servant, panicked, dropped to his knees. The castle had secret tunnels leading to the outside, but there were only a few deep pits outside that could shelter people from dragonfire. The tunnel that used to lead to the port had collapsed in the Vaelarys retaliation during the destruction of the Wyl's fleet, making it nearly unusable.

The servant, knowing full well the nature of his master as a man of little substance, was quick to understand the situation.

"Get out of here," Ullen snapped, grabbing the servant by the arm and pulling him close, whispering harshly in his ear. "The Dragon promised not to kill civilians." He shoved the servant roughly to the ground. "Go, now!"

Realizing what was happening, the servant gave a brief, grateful glance to Ullen before rushing back to the rooms below the tower.

As he descended, he saw the other servants packing their belongings in preparation to flee. A kitchen maid, carrying a pig's leg, collided with him as she hurried.

"Watch where you're going!" she scolded, pulling him up with a frown.

"Why is everyone running?" the servant asked, alarm in his voice. "Aren't you afraid...?"

"You've been up there too long," the maid replied, spitting to the side in irritation. "The others already know. The lords are the ones to blame for all this. The northerners in the village say neither the Dragons nor Lord Yronwood will hurt us common folk. Get moving! The village is safer than the town, and the town's safer than the castle. I'm heading home."

"Wait for me," the servant called after her.

Meanwhile, Ullen sat alone in his chair, the weight of the situation settling in. After a long while, the castle gates finally creaked open, revealing a group of family members covered in dust and grime.

"Father?" Ullen's son, Arlan Wyl, stared at him in disbelief. "What are you doing here? Weren't you preparing to evacuate?"

"Bah! When did I ever say I was leaving?" Ullen spat, irritation evident. "Arlan, are you questioning the courage of a Dornish warrior?"

"Ha ha, father, I wouldn't dare!" Arlan laughed heartily. "So this is the real reason you called us together, isn't it?"

Ullen patted his armor, a simple yet sturdy Dornish scale mail. "I'm ready to give that little lizard army a proper fight. And the Vulture King will teach those little bastards a lesson they won't forget."

"Dragon!"

"Dragon!"

"Where's the scorpion crossbow? Quickly, operate the scorpion crossbow!"

"Run, run!"

"Ahhh!"

Suddenly, the noise outside the castle intensified. Arlan hurriedly led his brothers, uncles, and the House's combat-ready men out.

Ullen quickly grabbed his wife, who had just come down with the children from the main tower, and urged her to take them to the hall, where the walls and the numerous towers provided protection. It was enough to withstand most of the damage from falling fire, even dragon flames. When the Conqueror's Queen had ridden Vhagar to burn Wyl Castle, the entire fortress had turned to ruins, with only the hall remaining relatively intact.

He pushed open the side door, looking emotionlessly at Vermithor and Silverwing, the two dragons in the sky spewing fire. They had chosen not to scorch the fields and villages outside the castle but were instead sending flames that could melt rock, burning the entire castle.

"Are they really not attacking us?" A dark-skinned Dornish man stood outside a cave near the village, watching as the Castle was enveloped in flames.

"When have the Valyrians ever kept their promises?" an elderly woman with wrinkled skin shouted from within the cave. "They only know how to enslave us!"

"Old woman, don't speak like that," a similarly aged Dornish man muttered thoughtfully, watching the castle burn. "This time, those from the borderlands warned us. Maybe they really are just seeking revenge against the lord?"

"Have you forgotten the tyrant Aegon's cruelty?" she snapped.

"But we still remember King Jaehaeris's rule," another Dornish man in the cave sighed nostalgically. "At least aside from those lords above us, life's been decent these past years. The northerners can bring in food, and our fruits have places to sell now."

"Enough," the old woman jabbed her staff into the ground angrily. "You young fools don't understand! The Valyrians are evil at their core. Just because they're not burning us now doesn't mean they won't burn us later!"

"Old woman, be quiet," another elderly woman, who had just finished her prayers, said. "If it weren't for the lords pushing back and the new lords being so awful, our elders wouldn't have rebelled everywhere, and we wouldn't have lost so many. Look at that burning castle," she added, pointing at the structure as it crumbled. "Don't forget that we're eating because of the northern food that's been secretly brought to us."

The old woman had no response.

The peasants in the cave anxiously watched as the two dragons destroyed the entire castle. The bronze-colored beast flew over the main tower after it had been scorched and deliberately stomped on the ruins, crushing the castle completely before spreading its wings and flying away with the silver dragon.

The collapsing castle, now reduced to charred ruins, was the last thing on Arlan's mind as he rushed out with the others to fight the dragons. He could never have imagined that, as they prepared to battle the dragons, it was his beloved father who had closed the gates behind them, trapping the his own family and everyone who could hold a sword out in the open, exposed to the dragonfire.

The bronze-colored beast used just a few breaths of fire to end their lives. Meanwhile, the women and children hiding in the castle were still safe.

The silver dragon of House Vaelarys, the swift hunters of House Tarly, the purple lightning of House Dondarrion, and the three sheaves of wheat of House Selmy, along with many other banners, now appeared from the mountains, entering Wyl's territory with spears raised and heads hanging from them.

At the forefront was Hoffa, holding his Valyrian steel spear. A decapitated head, now halfway shattered, was impaled on its tip.

It was the severed head of the late Vulture King.

The residents near Wyl Castle were somewhat surprised to see the thousands-strong army passing through their lands. They took nothing from them, and even the accompanying merchants were selling food and spices to the civilians.

The Dornish of Wyl commented that this was very strange and decided to watch further.

Thus, the army moved through Wyl's territory without obstruction, despite the fact that the Castle had already become a smoldering ruin.

---

At Sunspear.

Prince Qoren sighed deeply. "Maester, how much more bad news do we have? Tell me all of it."

"Prince Draezell's forces have taken control of all the

Wyl's lands. According to our intelligence, Wyl Castle has been completely destroyed by dragonfire. If the gods have not shown mercy, it's highly likely that none of the Wyl family member, from Lord Ullen onward, have survived."

"What about the people under Wyl rule? The knights?"

"The Lord's knights have likely perished in the earlier battles. Prince Draezell has issued orders to prevent his forces from harassing the civilians. He has also provided them with food and meat at half the usual price, and abolished the Wyl's taxes. Now, no one under the Vaelarys rule is willing to seek vengeance for their lost lord."

"By the seven hells," Qoren muttered, clearly shocked.

"Ghost Hill has been burned as well. Prince Draezell and Prince Valar burned all the spearmen sent by house Toland on the road, then reduced Ghost Hill Castle to ash. If it weren't for Lord Toland escaping quickly, it wouldn't have been just his wife and children who died in the fire."

"Wonderful. Just a little more, and those two dragons could have easily burned Sunspear as well. What happened next?" Prince Qoren replied sarcastically.

"Lord Toland gathered 3,000 men. He opened the treasury and borrowed several ships from the Triarchy to head north to Wyl Castle. As for Lord Uller, he gathered 4,000 men and is already south of Yronwood Castle."

"Fantastic. My kingdom's in utter chaos, huh? Doesn't anyone take me seriously?"

"Afraid not, Your Grace."

Qoren shot the Maester a frustrated glance, then tiredly sank back into his chair.

"How many more bad news are there?"

"A lot, Your Grace. Lord Jordayne of Tor accepted the gold from Lord Toland and sent his brother north with 1,500 spearmen, but he also sent a similar force to Lord Yronwood. Lord Yronwood recalled his soldiers stationed at the border and instead gathered his forces to attack Skyreach. Lord Fowler of Skyreach is also mobilizing his army to march east to clash with Lord Yronwood. The Dayne family has yet to make a move."

"Write a letter in my name and ask these bastards if they still remember the oaths they swore to me when I ascended to the throne," Qoren said angrily, slamming his hand on the arm of the chair. He stood up. "Release the ravens, gather the army, and tell those bastards that if they don't stop, they won't have to worry about those two little dragon lords. I'll show them that the sun burns just as fiercely."

"As you wish, Your Grace."

---

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