The Sword and Oaths of Heart's Home

Heart's Home's stone walls gleamed blue-gray in the dusk. The roar of glacial meltwater flowing into the Narrow Sea drifted from north of the city, like an ancient war song.

When Daemon arrived with Rhea's party, the camp outside the city already resembled stars fallen to earth—Strong Song's silver bell banners, Snakewood's venomous serpent shields, and Coldwater's blue "Y" banners intertwined in the wind with Ironoaks' broken wheel banners, forming the magnificent array of the Vale's lords.

"Count Corbray is waiting inside the city." William Royce pointed toward the gates. White banners bearing three black crows flew from the towers of Heart's Home, the blood-red hearts beneath each crow's claws especially striking in the setting sun.

The moment they stepped into the castle's great hall, the clamor nearly lifted the roof.

The Vale's nobles crowded around the long table, arguing without end. Count Belmore of Strong Song rapped his silver bell cup against the table. "Lady Forlorn is here, and House Royce of Runestone is trapped. House Corbray should naturally command the allied army!"

"What a joke!" Count Lynderly of Snakewood slammed the table and rose. The green serpent on his black shield seemed ready to bite. "Lady Rhea is Lord Yobert's own niece. House Royce of Runestone is the pillar of the Vale!"

"The Arryn branches should have a share as well! House Arryn is the true ruler of the Vale. With the main line besieged, our branch should naturally lead the rescue!" Edwin Arryn of Gulltown shouted, the silver moon and golden falcon on his chest glittering brightly. "The provisions we gathered in Gulltown are enough to sustain the entire army for three months!"

Amid the arguments, Daemon stood quietly by the doorway, holding Gael's hand, while Mysaria nervously clutched at her skirt.

Rayford Rosby stood with one hand on his sword. Mys Rivers gripped his hammer tightly, while Rupert warily watched the nobles who had drawn blades against one another—Count Hunter of Longbow Hall had already nocked a silver arrow, Count Redfort of Redfort had his hand on his sword hilt, and Count Malcor of Old Anchor had even overturned a wine jug.

"Shut up, all of you!" Count Grafton suddenly roared. The burning tower on his banner snapped behind him. "Prince Daemon and Princess Gael are here. How dare you act so presumptuously?"

Count Redfort and Marquess Sunderland immediately echoed him. House Sunderland's blue-green wave banner stood out among the crowd. "The count is right! Is His Highness's dragonfire not more useful than your squabbling?"

The arguing stopped abruptly. The nobles all turned to look at the young prince standing in the shadows.

Daemon slowly walked to the center of the long table. His gaze swept across every angry, arrogant, or hesitant face before settling on the map spread across the table—Moon Gate Keep had been circled in red ink, surrounded by black markings representing the Mountain Clans.

"Lady Jeyne and Lord Yobert are still trapped in Moon Gate Keep. Their lives are uncertain." Daemon's voice was not loud, but everyone heard it clearly. "The Wildlings of the Mountain Clans are raiding the villages of the Vale. Men are being slaughtered, women carried off, and children wail inside burning homes. Yet you—"

He slammed his palm against the table. With a sharp hiss, Blackfyre flew from its sheath, its blade gleaming darkly in the candlelight. "You are here fighting until your heads split over the title of commander!"

The hall fell silent. Even the crackling of the candles could be heard clearly.

Gael instinctively moved closer to him. Mysaria's face was pale as paper, yet she stubbornly shielded Gael's back.

"I, Daemon Blackfyre Targaryen," Daemon's voice suddenly rose, Blackfyre pointing straight at the vaulted ceiling, "great-great-great-great-grandson of His Majesty Aegon I the Conqueror, founder of the Iron Throne; grandson of His Majesty Jaehaerys I the Conciliator, current ruler of the Seven Kingdoms; son of the late heir apparent, Prince Aemon of Dragonstone; nephew of Prince Baelon, the current Prince of Dragonstone, the Prince of Spring Dawn—"

His gaze swept over them like a blade. "Today, I shall be commander of this allied army and lead the lords of the Vale against the Mountain Clans! Who objects? Who dares refuse?"

Before his words had faded, Glutton's roar burst like thunder. Black dragonfire swept over the castle, turning the window paper orange-red.

Dreamfyre followed close behind, her pale blue dragonfire flowing like lightning and illuminating every noble's terrified face.

"We are willing to follow Your Highness!" Rayford, Mys, and Rupert were the first to draw their swords. Jarman Waters's single eye shone with fanatic fervor, and Colin Celtigar raised his sword high as well. The young followers shouted as one, their voices shaking the roof tiles.

Rhea Royce looked at the dragonfire beyond the windows, then at Daemon's hand gripping Blackfyre. Thinking of her uncle Yobert, still trapped within Moon Gate Keep, she suddenly dropped to one knee. "House Royce of Runestone is willing to obey Your Highness's command!" Gonsor and William immediately knelt with her, the crisp clang of bronze armor echoing through the hall.

Seeing this, Edwin Arryn of Gulltown hurriedly bowed as well. "The Arryn branch of Gulltown swears to follow Your Highness unto death!" The nobles of the other Arryn branches exchanged looks before finally following suit.

Count Corbray of Heart's Home looked at the tense situation, then at the unquestionable authority in Daemon's eyes. He suddenly sighed and raised the famed Valyrian steel sword, Lady Forlorn—its blade was as bright as moonlight, yet it radiated bone-deep chill.

"House Corbray of Heart's Home is willing to submit to Your Highness." He dropped to one knee, relief coloring his voice. "Please forgive our earlier disrespect."

Daemon helped him up. The soft sound of Blackfyre returning to its sheath brought complete silence to the hall. "Since no one objects, from this day forth, I am the commander of the allied army."

He walked to the map and pressed a finger heavily onto the mountain road west of Moon Gate Keep. "Count Corbray, lead the forces of House Corbray, House Lynderly, and House Corrett through the glacial valley. Cut off the Wildlings' retreat."

Surprise flashed through Count Corbray's eyes before he bowed to accept the order. "As you command!"

"Lady Rhea." Daemon turned to Rhea. "Lead the cavalry of House Royce, House Belmore, and House Hunter in a frontal assault against the Wildlings' defenses outside Moon Gate Keep. You must draw in their main force."

Though Rhea remained expressionless, her reply was crisp. "Yes."

"William Royce." Daemon looked toward the silver-armored youth. "Take the men of House Waynwood, House Wycliffe, and House Templeton. Protect the villages along the route, gather the refugees, and ensure the supply lines remain secure."

William's eyes lit up. "Your servant obeys!" His fingers moved swiftly across the map. From Nine Stars' infantry to Sisterton's fleet, from Redfort's archers to Candle Arch's scouts, every house's task was arranged with absolute clarity. Even the routes for transporting provisions and the sites for housing the wounded had been thoroughly considered.

The lords of the Vale grew more alarmed the longer they listened. This young Targaryen prince not only had dragonfire to bolster him and Blackfyre at his side—he possessed such astonishing military talent as well.

Marquess Sunderland even quietly said to Redfort beside him, "If His Highness could marry Lady Jeyne and rule the Vale, perhaps that would be a good thing for the Vale after all..."

Count Redfort nodded repeatedly, the disdain in his eyes long since replaced by awe.

After arranging the final force, Daemon suddenly seized Blackfyre from the table and swung it fiercely at the stone table before him!

Bang!

The hard stone table shattered at once, fragments flying everywhere. Above them, Glutton and Dreamfyre breathed dragonfire at the same time, the flames reddening every face.

"Since no one objects," Daemon's voice echoed amid the roar of sword and flame, "then follow me to punish the Mountain Clans, protect our lands and people, and rescue Lady Jeyne and Regent Yobert!" Blackfyre pointed at the shattered table. "If anyone dares scheme within the allied army again, fight for power, and endanger the campaign—"

"Let them end like this table!"

After a moment of dead silence, earthshaking cheers erupted from the hall.

"Prince Daemon!"

"A warrior descended to earth!"

"Master of Blackfyre!"

"The Conqueror reborn!"

Gael looked at Daemon surrounded by the crowd, at the way he gripped Blackfyre with a blazing gaze. Suddenly, she felt that this nephew who had always treated her so gently truly resembled the ancestor people spoke of—the one who had ridden the Black Dread and conquered the Seven Kingdoms. Mysaria also quietly lifted her head, her eyes shining with a light she had never possessed before.

Daemon raised Blackfyre, its point aimed straight toward Moon Gate Keep. Candlelight flickered behind him, stretching his shadow long and longer, like a black dragon about to take flight.

"Move out!"

Heart's Home's gates slowly opened in the night. The allied army's torches surged toward the mountain road like a river of stars. Glutton's and Dreamfyre's roars intertwined high above, playing a war song belonging to Daemon Blackfyre for the army about to march into battle.