We Bleed Silver(GOT/ASOIAF Fanfic)

"Sigh."

Diana folded the letter sent by her father. Donald Tarly, aware of his flawed approach to parenting, had decided this time to leave the choice to his daughter.

He had meticulously outlined the pros and cons of the proposed marriage in his letter. As a seasoned high lord with comprehensive noble education, Donald Tarly understood the situation perfectly. From the moment the royal family expressed a desire for Draezell to marry quickly, he knew that there were only a few truly suitable matches. Among them, the Tarly family was, undoubtedly, the best option that could gain acceptance from all sides—provided Draezell himself did not oppose.

Draezell, now nominally the Warden of the Marches, theoretically commanded the allegiance of all the marcher lords. However, the core issue lay in tradition. For thousands of years, the marcher lords had served the Houses Gardener and Tyrell of the Reach, as well as the Houses Durrandon and Baratheon of the Stormlands. A mere title was not enough to make them abandon these loyalties. After all, the Caron family had held the hereditary title of "Marcher Lords of the Stormlands" without the marcher lords kneeling to them. Likewise, the Tyrells held the title of "Wardens of the Marches," yet most marcher lords still pledged allegiance to the lords of Storm's End.

Lord Tarly humorously remarked in his letter that these noble houses clung to their pride at their own expense. However, the crux of the issue remained: interests. The Dondarrion family, having benefited from Draezell's aid, had sufficient reason to switch their allegiance. The Selmy was too weak to resist, and the Baratheons were willing to make this concession as a token of goodwill. But other houses were different; losing even one marcher lord would undermine their old liege lords. Thus, most marcher lords were still in a state of hesitation.

The Tarlys, however, stood apart. Having actively participated in the Dornish War, they had already aligned themselves with the Vaelarys. The two houses were now intertwined through shared interests. Draezell needed the Tarlys as a model for others to follow, and the Tarlys hoped Draezell would lead them to further glory.

Therefore, Donald Tarly hoped his daughter could see this marriage through. This union was not only crucial for fully integrating the Vaelarys family into Westeros but also key to the Tarlys' transition and future strength.

Diana crumpled the letter in her hand, feeling conflicted. Both she and her sister, Sansa, were sharp and perceptive individuals. They naturally understood the significance of marriage and were acutely aware that in this era, the concept of romantic freedom for noblewomen simply did not exist. While Diana harbored special feelings for Draezell—who had saved them and demonstrated both exceptional capability and admirable qualities as a protector of his family—she couldn't ignore the weight of her family's expectations.

"Sister."

Her younger brother, Alan Tarly, barged in, his forehead still bearing fresh bruises. Cheerfully, he plopped down beside her.

"What happened to you?" Diana asked, noticing the bruises on his forehead. She pulled at his clothes and, as expected, found more marks on his body. "Who have you been fighting with?"

"It wasn't a fight; it was training." Alan glanced around before finally spotting some water in the corner.

"That water isn't clean—drink this. It's freshly squeezed today." Diana stopped her brother from scooping up a bowl of water and retrieved a bottle of juice from the cabinet, handing it to him. "No alcohol."

"Got it." Alan gulped down the juice in big swigs. "Prince Draezell's sworn brothers were training today. I joined in for some fun, but I lost to Lord Aslan and got pinned to the ground. He gave me quite the beating." Alan sounded almost proud. "But I did win against Jon Dondarrion and Harlow Selmy. Oh, and a new knight arrived at Dragon crystal Tower—someone named Samwell. He's strong. I almost lost to him."

"You're not even as old as Ser Harlow. Show some respect. This isn't Horn Hill," Diana said, giving him a sharp flick on the forehead. "Even at Horn Hill, you should respect others."

"I understand." Alan rubbed his forehead, pouting. "But there's no one else here right now."

"It doesn't matter if no one else is around. Alan, you're the future Lord Tarly. Even if we don't exactly like Father, you should still learn from his conduct. Only then will you become a good lord in the future."

"I understand." Alan suddenly leaned closer with a mischievous smile. "I heard from Jon that the king in King's Landing recommended you and Sansa to marry the prince. Is it true?"

"None of your business." Diana frowned and delivered another flick to his forehead. Alan immediately covered his head. "Even if it's true, we mustn't spread it around. My sister and I are just on the list of candidates. The final decision rests with Prince Draezell, and we have no say in the matter. Alan, you mustn't mention this to anyone else."

Alan, catching the serious look in his sister's eyes, swallowed hard. The matter seemed more complicated than he'd thought, and he quickly realized that talking too much about it could be a mistake.

"I understand, Sister. I was wrong."

"Good. Now go get some rest." Diana hesitated for a moment, as if she had more to say, but then fell silent.

"Hm? Sister, you've forgotten again. The prince arranged new accommodations for us. I'm staying in Dragon crystal Tower, and you're supposed to move to Laurel Tower." Alan glanced around at the tent, which was cluttered with books and documents. "Don't tell me you haven't packed yet."

"Seven hells!" Diana exclaimed, finally remembering what she had forgotten. "What are you standing around for? Help me pack!" She let out a shriek but kept her hands steady as she swiftly began organizing the documents.

"Heh." Alan chuckled and hurried to help her gather her belongings.

While Diana busied herself with packing—

---

In Dorne, at Starfall.

Obara Dayne tore apart the letter from Albain Dayne, the self-proclaimed "king." The acting lord of Starfall, Quentyn Dayne, and Amira Sand, **High Hermitage** bastard daughter, stood by the warrior woman's side. They, too, had just read the contents of the letter.

Albain had proposed that Obara take advantage of the Vaelarys family's support and propose marriage to Draezell. In the letter, he "generously" promised to prepare a dowry worthy of a queen for Obara to secure the dragonlord's support for the "King of the Torrentine."

"When did Albain become this foolish?" Young Quentyn, already aware of the absurdity of the proposal, couldn't help but comment. Especially since the prospective bride was Obara, who viewed Dawn as her truest love.

"I wouldn't mind experiencing what it's like to be with a dragonlord." Amira Sand licked her lips.

"I'm sure the dragon would enjoy tasting you just as much," Obara snapped. "Enough nonsense. Quentyn, do you want to test your mettle on the battlefield?"

Quentyn nodded eagerly. Though still a boy, he was a warrior at heart, yearning for the glory of combat like his sister.

"What about me?" Amira quickly forgot about the marriage and chimed in. "I want to go too."

Obara rolled her eyes at her bastard sister. "If Albain thinks he can conquer the Yronwoods and the Martells with his loins, that's his stupidity. The only thing that truly conquers men is the sword." She glanced at the shredded remains of the letter. "Dawn is all I need in this life. Quentyn, how many troops can **High Hermitage** muster? Let's raid some of Uller's lands and stir up trouble.

Quentyn's mind worked quickly. "Fifteen hundred men. I'll need to leave enough to guard the castle and monitor House Blackmont, but that still includes five hundred cavalry."

"Excellent. Bring our great-uncle along." Obara slung the greatsword Dawn over her back. "Let him see what it looks like when the young wield Dawn in battle."

---

At Dragon's nest, in the Silverblood Tower:

Draezell stood before a map, deep in thought.

He already had his own ideas regarding marriage alliances, but he was more interested in traveling across Westeros. With Valar keeping an eye on Dorne, Draezell had enough time to visit the various noble houses, observe the kingdom's true state, and evaluate the matches chosen by the Crown for him and his brother.

Horn Hill was a definite destination. Lord Tarly had sent a letter informing him that he had petitioned both House Tyrell and the Iron Throne to dissolve his feudal ties, preparing to swear allegiance anew to the "Warden of the Marches." Diana Tarly, meanwhile, was undoubtedly an excellent candidate for a marriage alliance.

Before heading to Horn Hill, he planned to visit Nightsong and pay his respects to Lord Royce Caron. As the "Marshal of the Marches" and a key vassal of the Prince's Pass, Lord Caron controlled one of the most important routes connecting the North and South. Winning the loyalty of House Caron would firmly establish the Vaelarys family's foothold in the Marches.

Following that, his journey would take him to several castles in the Reach: the Golden Grove of House Rowan, Brightwater Keep of House Florent, Highgarden of House Tyrell, and Oldtown of House Hightower.

The last of these stops was prompted by a letter from Queen Alicent, who had requested that Draezell visit her youngest son, Prince Daeron, in Oldtown—a request he couldn't refuse.

Afterward, Draezell planned to head northward to visit Casterly Rock, then east to the Riverlands and the North. His journey would end with a return south to King's Landing to meet the King and a final stop at Storm's End to pay his respects to House Baratheon.

"My lord, the ravens have all been sent," Prince Jacaerys said as he knocked lightly on the side door. After receiving Draezell's permission, he entered the room. "Maester Visari has assured us that you'll receive all reports from Dragonstone promptly."

Draezell nodded. "Make the necessary preparations. We leave in two days."