The stone walls of Heart's Home glowed with a bluish-grey hue in the twilight. The sound of glacial meltwater merging into the waves of the Narrow Sea came from the north of the castle, like an ancient war song.
When Daemon arrived with Rhea's retinue, the camp outside the castle was already like stars fallen to earth—the silver bells of Belmore, the viper shield of Lynderly, and the blue "Y" of Coldwater fluttered in the wind, piecing together the magnificent array of the Vale lords alongside the broken wheel banner of Waynwood.
"Lord Corbray awaits within." William Royce pointed to the gate. Above the tower of Heart's Home flew the banner of three ravens on white, each clutching a blood-red heart, strikingly visible in the setting sun.
Stepping into the castle's Great Hall, the noise almost lifted the roof.
The Vale nobles argued ceaselessly around the long table. Lord Belmore of Strongsong tapped his silver bell cup: "Lady Forlorn is here. The Royces lament being trapped; House Corbray should naturally command the coalition!"
"Joke!" Lord Lynderly of Snakewood slammed the table, the green snakes on his black shield seeming ready to bite. "Lady Rhea is Lord Yorbert's own niece; House Royce of Runestone is the pillar of the Vale!"
"The cadet branch of House Arryn should also have a share. House Arryn is the master of the Vale; with the main line besieged, we cadets should lead the rescue!" Edwin Arryn of Gulltown shouted, the silver moon and gold falcon sigil on his chest shining brightly. "The provisions we gathered in Gulltown are enough to support the whole army for three months!"
Amidst the quarreling, Daemon stood quietly at the door holding Gael's hand. Mysaria nervously clutched the corner of her dress.
Rayford Rosby stood with his hand on his sword; Mycah Rivers gripped his hammer tightly; Rupert watched the nobles drawing swords vigilantly. Lord Hunter of Longbow Hall already had a silver arrow nocked; Lord Redfort of Redfort pressed his sword hilt; Lord Melcolm of Old Anchor even overturned a wine jug.
"Silence, all of you!" Lord Grafton suddenly roared, the burning tower sigil snapping behind him. "Prince Daemon and Princess Gael are here, and you dare be insolent?"
Lord Redfort and Lord Sunderland immediately echoed him, the blue-green wave banner of House Sunderland standing out in the crowd: " The Earl is right! Is the Prince's dragonfire not more effective than your bickering?"
The quarreling stopped abruptly. The nobles turned their heads, looking at the young Prince standing in the shadows.
Daemon walked slowly to the center of the long table. His gaze swept over every face—angry, arrogant, or hesitant—finally landing on the map on the table. The location of the Gates of the Moon was circled in red ink, surrounded by black marks representing the mountain clans.
"Lady Jeyne and Lord Yorbert are still trapped in the Gates of the Moon, their fate unknown." Daemon's voice wasn't loud, but it reached everyone's ears clearly. "The wildlings of the mountain clans are pillaging Vale villages. Men are slaughtered, women abducted, children crying in burning houses. And you—"
He slammed the table, and Blackfyre unsheathed with a shing, the blade glowing darkly in the candlelight. "Are here ready to break heads over the title of commander!"
The hall fell deathly silent; even the crackle of burning candles was audible.
Gael subconsciously moved closer to him. Mysaria's face was pale as paper, but she resolutely guarded Gael's back.
"I, Daemon Blackfyre Targaryen," Daemon's voice rose steeply, Blackfyre pointing straight at the dome, "great-great-grandson of Aegon the Conqueror, founder of the Iron Throne; grandson of the current Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, King Jaehaerys the Conciliator; son of the late Crown Prince Aemon of Dragonstone; nephew of the current Prince of Dragonstone, Baelon the Spring Prince—"
His gaze swept over the crowd like a sharp sword. "Today, I will be the commander of this coalition, leading the Vale lords to crush the mountain clans! Who has objections? Who dares refuse?"
Before his voice faded, The Cannibal's roar exploded like thunder. Pitch-black dragonfire swept over the castle, turning the window paper orange-red; Dreamfyre followed, pale blue dragonfire illuminating every noble's terrified face like flowing lightning.
"We are willing to follow the Prince!" Rayford, Mycah, and Rupert drew their swords first. Jarmen Waters's single eye shot fanatical light. Corlin Celtigar raised his sword high. The young followers shouted in unison, shaking the roof tiles.
Rhea Royce looked at the dragonfire outside, then at Daemon's hand gripping Blackfyre, thinking of her trapped uncle Yorbert. She suddenly knelt on one knee: "House Royce of Runestone is willing to obey the Prince's command!" Gunthor and William knelt immediately, the clang of bronze armor echoing in the hall.
Seeing this, Edwin Arryn of Gulltown also bowed quickly. "Arryn cadet branch of Gulltown, follows to the death!" Other Arryn cadet nobles looked at each other, finally following suit.
Lord Corbray of Heart's Home looked at the tense situation, then at the unquestionable majesty in Daemon's eyes. He sighed deeply and raised the famous Valyrian steel sword Lady Forlorn—the blade bright as moonlight, yet emitting bone-chilling cold.
"House Corbray of Heart's Home is willing to submit to the Prince." He knelt on one knee, his voice carrying a trace of relief. "Please forgive our previous rudeness."
Daemon helped him up. The soft click of Blackfyre returning to its sheath silenced the hall completely. "Since no one objects, from today on, I am the coalition commander."
He walked to the map, his finger landing heavily on the mountain path west of the Gates of the Moon. "Lord Corbray, you lead the troops of Corbray, Lynderly, and Coldwater. move stealthily along the glacier valley to cut off the wildlings' retreat."
Surprise flashed in Lord Corbray's eyes, followed by a bow. "As you command!"
"Lady Rhea," Daemon turned to Rhea, "you lead the cavalry of Royce, Belmore, and Hunter. Attack the wildling defenses outside the Gates of the Moon from the front. You must attract their main force."
Though still expressionless, Rhea responded crisply, "Yes."
"William Royce," Daemon looked at the silver-armored youth, "you take the men of Waynwood, Waxley, and Templeton. Protect the villages along the way, gather refugees, and ensure logistical supplies."
William's eyes lit up. "Subordinate obeys!"
Daemon's fingers moved quickly across the map. From the infantry of Ninestars to the fleet of Sisterton, from the archers of Redfort to the scouts of Wickenden, every family's task was arranged clearly. Even grain transport routes and placements for the wounded were thoroughly considered.
The Vale lords grew more astonished as they listened—this young Targaryen Prince not only had dragonfire and Blackfyre but also such amazing military talent.
Lord Sunderland even whispered to Lord Redfort beside him: "If the Prince could marry Lady Jeyne and rule the Vale, perhaps it would be a good thing for us..."
Lord Redfort nodded repeatedly, the contempt in his eyes long turned to awe.
After arranging the last troop, Daemon suddenly grabbed Blackfyre from the table and slashed fiercely at the stone table before him!
BANG!
The hard stone table shattered, chips flying. Above, The Cannibal and Dreamfyre spewed dragonfire simultaneously, the light reddening everyone's faces.
"Since there are no objections," Daemon's voice echoed amidst the roar of sword and fire, "follow me to crush the mountain clans, protect the realm and people, and rescue Lady Jeyne and Regent Yorbert!" Blackfyre pointed at the broken table. "If anyone dares engage in intrigue or power struggles within the coalition again, affecting the war effort—"
"So shall be this table!"
After dead silence, thunderous cheers erupted in the hall:
"Prince Daemon!"
"The Warrior Reborn!"
"Lord of Blackfyre!"
"The Conqueror Reincarnated!"
Gael watched Daemon surrounded by the crowd, watching him gripping Blackfyre with eyes like torches. She suddenly felt this nephew who was always gentle to her truly looked like the ancestor spoken of in legends who rode the Black Dread and conquered the Seven Kingdoms. Mysaria also quietly raised her head, eyes shining with a light never seen before.
Daemon raised Blackfyre, the tip pointing straight toward the Gates of the Moon. Candlelight danced behind him, stretching his shadow long, like a black dragon about to take flight.
"Move out!"
The gates of Heart's Home opened slowly in the night. The coalition's torches flowed toward the mountain path like a galaxy. The dragon roars of The Cannibal and Dreamfyre interwove high above, playing a war song belonging to Daemon Blackfyre for this army about to step onto the battlefield.
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