Banquet songs at the Eyrie
The white stone towers of Eyrie appear like floating ice sculptures in the morning mist.
As Daemon and his companions climbed the stone steps of Sky, the roar of Alyssa's Tears Waterfall was deafening, and the mist refracted rainbows in the sunlight, wetting everyone's hair.
Seven slender white pagodas stand closely connected, their silver foil atop shimmering in the morning light, as if they would melt into the clouds at the slightest touch.
"It's even more like a fairyland than the legends say." Gael looked up at the spire of the Maiden's Tower, where pale blue Dreamfyre hummed behind her, and the dragon scales reflected the white stone of the tower, like two clusters of flowing light.
The knights guarding the fort greeted them at the Gates of the Moon, a resting place for mountaineers, where pine burned in the stone fireplace and the air was filled with the aroma of mead and roasted chestnuts.
Jeyne House Arryn, dressed in a silver fox fur cloak, was sitting on a bench in the corner, her long, dark hair being combed by a maid. Seeing Daemon enter, she immediately jumped off the bench and ran over. "Daemon, you're here! I told you I'd take you to see the dungeon!"
Yobert House Royce quickly followed, the old Earl wearing a helpless smile, "Your Grace, the prison is not a place for entertaining guests."
Daemon smiled and nodded, "No problem, I'd also like to see the unique features of Eyrie."
Looking down from the edge of the cliff in the Heavenly Prison, the valley rocks 600 feet below resembled sharp teeth, and a cold wind carrying mist rushed towards you, almost threatening to throw you off.
The so-called "cells" were nothing more than a few sloping stone frames carved into the cliff. The steepest part was only big enough for one person to huddle in, and the iron chains made a wailing sound in the wind.
"It's said that Janos House Arryn was thrown down from here," William House Royce said, his voice crackling in the wind as he stood beside Daemon. "His Majesty Maegor rode Balerion straight to the Eyrie; no one could stop him."
Daemon recalled that history, his fingertips unconsciously tracing the hilt of the Blackfyre. "Even the strongest castle cannot withstand Dragonfire." He looked towards the distant Vale, the villages beneath the clouds scattered like chess pieces, "Just as even the most treacherous mountains cannot stop those who yearn to return home."
The victory banquet was held in the main hall of the Eyrie. The blue-veined white marble walls gleamed under the firelight, and outside the narrow arched windows, the mist from the waterfall drifted like a veil.
The high throne of the House Arryn stood at the far end of the hall, with eagle claws carved from weirwood gripping the armrests tightly. Jeyne House Arryn sat on it, with three brocade cushions under her feet, trying her best to look dignified on her small face.
Laughter echoed from the Vale lords. Earl Corbray, with his arm around his nephew—a bright-eyed boy—introduced him to Daemon: "This is Lyonel. Lady Forlorn will pass on her skills to this lad. He says he wants to learn swordsmanship from Your Highness and begs you to take him in."
Lyonel immediately knelt on one knee, offering a short sword with both hands. "Your Highness, please allow me to serve you!"
As Daemon helped him up, he suddenly thought of Garwin Corbray —that "bastard" who had practiced swordsmanship with him since childhood but was never allowed to draw his sword against him.
He patted the boy on the shoulder. "Your sword is good, don't let it down. Start practicing with Rupert Crabb tomorrow."
Not far away, Earl Hunter of the Longbow Hall was pushing his second son forward. The boy carried a longbow taller than himself, his cheeks flushed. "I... I'm quite good at archery, and I'd like to draw my bow for Your Highness."
Daemon had just nodded in agreement when he heard Rhea House Royce's cold laugh, "Some people really know how to climb the social ladder, forgetting who they are."
The crowd looked in the direction of the sound and saw two young men wearing armor with the runes of House Royce's side branch emblems standing next to Daemon's group, their faces showing awkward smiles—they had just asked to join and had not yet received a response.
Yobert House Royce's face instantly darkened. "Rhea!"
Before Rhea could retort, Gonsor and William, standing beside her, covered her mouth once more, one on each side. The giant's bronze armor clanged with a dull thud, while the silver-armored youth repeatedly apologized to Daemon: "I'm sorry, Your Highness, she's just... straightforward."
Daemon smiled and waved, but his gaze swept across the crowd and landed on William and Gonsor. These two men, who had made great contributions in the Battle of Moon Gate Keep, had never expressed any intention to join the fight.
He knew in his heart that Gonsor's loyalty belonged to the House Royce family, while William... was perhaps still hesitant.
As the banquet progressed and the atmosphere grew increasingly lively, the Marquess Sunderland, drunk, slammed his fist on the table and shouted, "If Your Highness marries Lady Jeyne, our Vale will be united with the Targaryen!"
Jeyne House Arryn's face flushed instantly, and she buried her face in Yobert's arms. The old Earl laughed and scolded, "The Marquis has had too much to drink!" But a hint of barely perceptible apprehension flashed in his eyes.
Daemon walked to the center of the hall with a wine glass in his hand, Blackfyre gently tapped the stone floor, the crisp sound gradually calming the noise.
"I appreciate your kindness," his voice echoed clearly throughout the hall, "But right now, the most important thing is to help the people of the Vale rebuild their homes. Although the Mountain Clans have retreated, the snow and winds of the Mountains of the Moon in early spring are more difficult to deal with than the Wildlings."
He turned to Yobert: "I have had Rupert take men to assess the losses in each village. Colin is familiar with trade and will accompany Lord Grafton to Gulltown to purchase grain. Lady Jeyne's generous donations are enough for the people of the Vale to survive this difficult spring."
The lords nodded in agreement, their eyes filled with a newfound respect for Daemon —this prince was not only a skilled warrior, but also an impeccable strategist in logistics.
The Eyrie was unusually quiet in the dead of night. Daemon stood on the balcony of the Moon Tower, looking down at the lights of Sky that spread like stars along the mountain path. Gael, wearing his cloak, approached, carrying a small jug of warm wine. "What are you thinking about?"
"Thinking about this castle." Daemon took the flask, his gaze sweeping over the seven white towers. "When Roland House Arryn built it, he probably wanted to protect the Vale forever. But even the highest walls can't stop the changes in people's hearts. By the way, you seemed unhappy when the Marquess Sunderland started the commotion?"
Gael turned her head away, avoiding his gaze. Following his look, she saw William standing on the balcony of the Maiden's Tower, his silver armor gleaming coldly in the moonlight. She then changed the subject, saying, "William seems to have something to say to you."
Daemon had just nodded when he saw the silver-armored youth walking towards them, clutching something in his hand.
"Your Highness," William's voice said, "This is a gift from Lord Yobertte to you." He handed over a large, yellowed parchment scroll, covered with diagrams of various tactics, with the words "Yobert House Royce's masterpiece" marked in the corner.
"I know Your Highness will have to leave the Vale sooner or later," William said, his cheeks slightly flushed. "These are all tactical experiences accumulated by Lord Yobert over most of his life; perhaps... you will find them useful in the future."
As Daemon unrolled the scroll, he suddenly understood the boy's hesitation—it wasn't that he didn't want to follow him, but rather that he was wavering between pursuing glory and fulfilling his family's responsibilities. He carefully put the parchment away and handed it back. "You need it more than I do." William looked up, his eyes shining.
When Daemon returned to the room, Mysaria was mending his cloak by the moonlight. The girl's platinum blonde curls fell over her shoulders, and her fingers deftly moved through the torn fabric.
"Her Highness said she's angry, so she's punishing you by making you sleep alone tonight," she said softly.
"And what about you? What she said is really easy to misunderstand..." Daemon walked to the window and looked at the thin mist in the direction of the prison.
The Glutton and Dreamfyre dozed on the platform below the cliff. The Black Dragon's jet-black scales blended into the moonlight, while the pale blue mother dragon curled up like a melting block of ice.
"Go and keep her company," Daemon said gently, a hint of unwavering determination in his voice. "Tell her she never needs to worry about what others say, because my sword and my heart will never change because of it. And so will you, Little Mei. Get some rest..."
The sound of the waterfall outside the window seemed even louder, as if accompanying this promise.
The white tower of the Eyrie stood silently in the moonlight, and Daemon knew that the feast here would eventually end, and his journey was far ahead.
But at least tonight, the torches on the stone wall, the joyful songs in the hall, and the light in the eyes of the boys made him feel that this battle that swept across the entire Vale was worthwhile.