Half a month later.
The lords of the Vale finished their long trek and arrived at the Eyrie for the great council.
Daeron sat on the high lord's seat, watching each Vale lord file into the hall.
The nobles had already split into two clear camps.
One was the Andal faction, led by House Corbray of Heart's Home. The Corbrays had been ironclad Arryn loyalists. Their house was powerful and carried the ancestral Valyrian steel sword Lady Forlorn. Leading them was Ser Lyn Corbray, eldest son and heir of old Lord Corbray—still in his twenties.
Old Lord Corbray had fought at the Red Fork, been deliberately left in the rearguard by Roose Bolton, and taken prisoner. He now awaited the council's judgment.
The other camp was the First Men faction, headed by Bronze Yohn Royce of Runestone. House Royce had also been staunch Arryn supporters, and Lord Yohn had been one of Jon Arryn's most trusted bannermen. But he had withdrawn his men before the Red Fork disaster, and Runestone lay outside the Mountains of the Moon, so his power remained untouched. He walked with the confidence of a man who still held his full strength.
Daeron studied them. They studied him right back.
The young Dragon Prince sat on the high seat in black and silver, Dark Sister resting against his leg, one hand propping his cheek as he regarded them with cool indifference.
On the steps below him stood three Kingsguard in shining white cloaks—Barristan in the middle, Ser Jon and Prince Lewyn flanking the bottom step.
Daeron showed no concern at all about the display of power. If not for his youthful face, he would have looked more kingly than the king himself.
On either side of the hall stood the great lords of the Reach and Riverlands—Randyll Tarly, Mace Tyrell, Mathis Rowan, Lord Walter Whent, Ser Stevron Frey—every one of them armed and watchful.
"House Targaryen has true dragons again," Bronze Yohn said, dropping his usual arrogance and adopting a carefully neutral tone. He would neither appear defiant nor let the other two regions look down on him.
Ser Lyn Corbray was far less composed. His father was a captive, his soldiers had been slaughtered, and he stood in the hall feeling the weight of the Dragon Prince's gaze like a physical pressure.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Once every lord was present, Mace Tyrell stepped forward to run the show.
"My lords," he announced, "Prince Daeron has crushed the rebellion and stripped House Arryn of every castle, every acre, and every title."
He went on at length, but the message was simple: House Targaryen had won the war, and the winners set the new rules. The Eyrie now belonged to the crown. House Arryn was finished. Anyone who didn't understand that was a fool.
"I, Yohn Royce of Runestone, will obey the commands of House Targaryen." Bronze Yohn knelt first, setting the example.
Behind him the other First Men lords knelt as well.
"House Corbray will also obey Prince Daeron's commands," Ser Lyn said, dropping to one knee. He had no room to argue.
Daeron watched the different reactions in silence.
He rose and began handing down the new order.
"Lord Lyman Darry is named first Warden of the Mountain Road and castellan of the Bloody Gate. He will guard every pass through the Mountains of the Moon."
Lyman's face flushed with pride. "Yes, my prince!"
"Ser Simon Templeton of Ninestars is named first Steward of the Vale. He will manage all taxes, revenues, and finances of the Vale."
"House Grafton of Gulltown rendered loyal service in the rebellion. Gulltown is now a royal port under direct crown rule, removed from the Vale and placed under the Crownlands."
Every sentence landed like a knife in the Vale lords' hearts.
Losing the Bloody Gate and Gulltown stripped them of control over movement and trade. The Vale would now need the crown's permission just to breathe.
Stripping away the Vale proper—the vast, fertile bowl that produced nearly all their food—dropped them from wealthy landowners to tenant farmers on their own soil.
Yet no one dared protest. A few hotheads opened their mouths and were immediately silenced by their neighbors.
"You want to die?"
"Jon Arryn himself is a prisoner—his fate unknown!"
The grumbling stayed low. It did not touch Daeron.
After he finished listing what the crown had won by right of conquest, he moved on to dividing the remaining spoils.
"Ser Lyn Corbray, step forward."
Barristan's voice rang out.
Ser Lyn took a deep breath and walked to the center of the hall.
Daeron looked down at him. "House Corbray supported Jon Arryn's rebellion. Your father was captured in battle. Jon Arryn himself awaits judgment. I will now pronounce the sentence on House Corbray. Do you accept it?"
Ser Lyn closed his eyes and bowed his head.
Daeron spoke clearly. "Old Lord Corbray is guilty of treason. He has chosen to take the black and join the Night's Watch to atone.
"House Corbray will be punished in three ways.
"First: half of your lands are forfeit. Half your wealth and this year's harvest are confiscated.
"Second: the ancestral sword Lady Forlorn is confiscated and returned to the Iron Throne to be awarded to a worthy servant.
"Third: your younger brothers, Ser Lyn Corbray and Lucas Corbray, will be sent to King's Landing to serve in the City Watch under the Lord Commander of the Gold Cloaks."
The punishment was harsh but measured—far lighter than the fate suffered by many lesser Vale houses that had been wiped out entirely.
"I accept," Ser Lyn said, voice tight.
"Good."
Daeron gave Barristan a nod. The knight summoned Bronze Yohn Royce forward.
By custom, a house that withdrew before the final battles should be judged on its earlier service to the rebels. Daeron cut straight to the point.
"Runestone forfeits five hundred square miles of its southern lands—including mills, pastures, manors, and prime farmland. These lands are granted to House Grafton of Gulltown."
"Many thanks, my prince," Lord Grafton said, almost weeping with gratitude.
Runestone and Gulltown had been bitter neighbors for thousands of years. This single stroke expanded the crown-controlled port and weakened a major rival.
"I accept the judgment of the Iron Throne," Bronze Yohn said, face like iron, though the loss clearly hurt.
Daeron was not cruel for the sake of cruelty. He signaled Prince Lewyn, who carried a sword forward on both hands and presented it to Yohn.
"Lord Yohn, you showed wisdom by withdrawing your men in time and sparing the loyalist army unnecessary losses.
"I believe in rewarding service and punishing treason.
"During the Dance of the Dragons, House Royce lost its Valyrian steel sword Lamentation in the Dragonpit of King's Landing. Today I award you a new Valyrian steel blade to serve as Runestone's ancestral sword."
Yohn's eyes widened. He stared at the sword—Lady Forlorn, the very blade taken from House Corbray.
Daeron smiled faintly. "Take it. It is yours."
Yohn accepted the sword with both hands, reverence in every movement. He drew it slowly, running his fingers along the rippling steel as if caressing a lover.
Valyrian steel was rarer than gold. After the secrets of its forging were lost, every blade that still existed was priceless.
"Prince, I thank you for this honor. House Royce will never forget your justice and generosity."
Daeron waved a hand. "Serve faithfully and the Iron Throne will never forget its loyal servants."
Yohn bowed low, then quickly replaced his old sword with the new one, as if afraid someone might snatch it away.
Ser Lyn Corbray watched the entire exchange, teeth clenched so hard they nearly cracked.
That was his family sword. Now it hung at a rival's hip.
Exactly as Daeron intended.
Naming a Warden of the Mountain Road, a Steward of the Vale, and making Gulltown a royal port effectively broke the Vale lords' ability to act together.
Most Vale castles lay in the Mountains of the Moon or on the Fingers. The Warden of the Mountain Road would watch them, but the crown would not need to micromanage. Better to let the Andal faction and the First Men faction tear at each other.
"A divided Vale is a safe Vale," Daeron thought with satisfaction.
Yohn Royce was no fool. He understood the game perfectly. But could any lord refuse a Valyrian steel blade? Could he refuse the chance to become the new leader of the First Men houses?
Of course not.
The rest of the lesser lords and landed knights received lighter sentences. A few stubborn holdouts were dealt with swiftly by Randyll.
Daeron ordered a grand feast at Moon Gate to celebrate the end of the rebellion and signal to every noble in the Vale that the War of the Usurper was finished.
Jon Arryn, Eddard Stark, and Robert Baratheon—the three great rebel lords—were all taken. The war was over.
---
King's Landing, Tower of the Hand.
Tywin read the raven scroll aloud, face impassive, though a flicker of pride he would never admit showed in his eyes.
In just three months Daeron had crushed the Riverlands and the Vale and brought peace back to the realm.
"A hero from the cradle, isn't he?" Olenna Tyrell said, sipping her wine across the table.
Tywin's expression hardened. "He is brilliant at war, yes. But his treatment of the Vale lords is excessively harsh. It could breed resentment."
"Perhaps he learned that particular lesson from someone we both know," Olenna said, giving him a pointed look.
Tywin did not rise to the bait. He changed the subject. "Daeron will return to King's Landing soon at the head of the army. The service he has rendered the realm is almost unmatched in our history."
"And?" Olenna asked, curious why he had summoned her so late.
Tywin leaned forward. "Aerys's rule is rotten. The lords of the Seven Kingdoms have suffered long enough. It is time for a better ruler."
"Treason?" Olenna asked, eyes wide.
"Regency," Tywin corrected. "We will secure the regency for Daeron and remove the madman from power."