Night had covered the whole of Vale in darkness. In the valley of mountains near the Gates of Moon stood hundreds of tents. The King's tent, vast compared to all other, stood huddled at the end of all surrounded by few of Royal Army. Ser Barristan Selmy entered the tent first who was then followed by Lord Adrian Celtigar and behind them came the lords of Vale, Lord Gerold Grafton and Lord Symond Templeton.
They stopped at the sight already waiting for them inside. Lord Yohn Royce stood at the center, his muscles bulging despite his age, his famed bronze armor appearing black in the poor light. Beside him stood Lord Beric Dondarrion, his remaining single eye, passing through all men present and men who have just arrived with unnatural alertness. Thoros of Myr sat hunched over the table, wineskin already in hand and too drunk to talk anything that made sense. Grey Worm stood in the dark far away from anyone, wearing leather worth the rank as Commander of Royal Army, utterly still, will a spear not too far from his side.
But it was the boy in the chair who drew everyone's gaze to him the moment they entered the tent. Jojen Reed lay sprawled half-sideways, his head hanging back, the limbs loose and useless. His eyes looked totally white, his breath shallow but even.
Lord Celtigar lets out a soft exhale, seeing what's happening in front of him. "By the Seven and all the Gods alive… Every time I see this… it makes the hairs rise on my arms."
Royce did not react to his words, he just kept on looking at the boy. His face stiff as stone, carved hard by the harsh seasons of the Vale, softens just enough to show respect to magic of First Men.
"It is magic, Lord Celtigar," he starts, his voice rough. "As Valyrian's magic makes them see future at times and allow them to command dragon… the magic of the First Men gave them sight. What you witness is older than most castles present in Westeros."
Barristan says nothing. He watches Jojen with the weary understanding, a boy sharing deep friendship with the King and helpful to their conquest in many ways. He knew better than anyone that power comes in many forms. He finally turns to Beric. "You summoned us here in urgency, Lord Dondarrion. Time is the one thing we cannot afford to lose. Speak fast."
Beric opens his lips, but before a word could escape, Jojen wakes up with a sharp and loud inhales of air. His body jerks, as if yanked up from a depths of the see. His eyes open, earlier white in colour but now turning back to their original green, full of intelligence.
"We can't wait for long" Jojen starts in small voice. "Enemies of the crown marches from all direction." He straightens, rubbing his temples with trembling hands. "Reinforcements are marching to the Eyrie from other houses."
Lord Yohn Royce's jaw tighten in anger, hearing his words and he questions. "Lady Anya Waynwood?"
"No, Lord Royce." Jojen shakes his head in denial. "Though Lady Waynwood marches to us, its with no more than a score of her men. I think she moves to pledge her fealty to the King. It is House Corbray and House Waxley who rush toward the Eyrie with… undue haste, thousands of their men rushing here. A race against the siege that we hold."
Templeton's lips curled into a sneer filled with cold contempt. "House Corbray," he spat. "Looks like Ser Lyn is truly a man of simple appetites that Lord Baelish likes to talk about so much. He will spread his honour for gold, flattering words, or whatever women spreads her legs for him."
Lord Celtigar ignores him, and turns his gaze to castle sitting atop of the mountain outside. "Whether it is Corbray or Waxley, it matters little to me," he speaks quietly. "No army will matter should we take the Eyrie first."
He turns Lord Gerold Grafton. "Can it be done? Do we have the means to take the most impregnable castle in Westeros?"
Lord Gerold starts to speak, but Royce was faster. Years spent in the Vale and near Eyrie made him the most experienced of all present to lay the plan. "I have climbed to the Eyrie more times than I can count. To attack it from the west, that is from the Riverland side is a folly, the Bloody Gate guards that approach. And though the Gate is empty now…" He spread his hands towards all the Lord present in utter helplessness. "We have no men on that side to seize it."
"And from inside, through the land of Vale?" Barristan asks.
Royce nods, grimly. "From within, one must pass the Gates of the Moon, then begin the ascent to the Giant's Lance. A trek on the mountain which is full of treacherous falling stones where horses cannot walk for the path is too narrow for them. Only mules…" His voice fades into whisper by the end.
"Mules that we do not have," Lord Celtigar finishes understanding the impossibility that lay in it.
Lord Gerold confirms it with a short, miserable nod. "Going on foot will pose a greater danger. Ser Vardis Egen commands the defenses, and he is a loyal and dutiful man. Any man walking stray and unknown will be shot down long before he reaches the Gates of the Eyrie. Our famed cavalry is useless here, no charge can run a trek on the narrow mountain."
Silence returns, pressing down on the lords, all thinking of the ways to bring the Eyrie down. Grey Worm, who had heard everything, standing stiff as a statue from his corner, finally steps forward. "We will go."
Every head turned toward the eunuch. The commander of the royal army looks at all of them and repeats. "The Unsul.. Royal army of King Aemon will do it."
Barristan frowns, hearing eagerness in his usually monotone voice. "Tonight?"
Grey Worm lifts the tent flap showing total darkness outside. Even the stars were hidden, swallowed in the clouds. "Tonight," he nods.
Barristan's eyes widen as comprehension of his words dawn on him. "You mean to attack under the cloak of darkness. With no moonlight, the defenders will see nothing below them."
Grey Worm inclines his head in agreement. "Yes."
Lord Templeton face whiten, the blood draining from his face. "But without moonlight, the path becomes twice as dangerous! Your men will be climbing blind!"
"The royal army will handle it," Grey Worm replies, his tone calm and unaffected by the danger present. There was no boast in his voice, only certainty of a man who didn't fear death.
The tent fell silent again, as Ser Barristan lets out a soft exhale, with a small smile of his own. "I will lead the vanguard with you," he breaks the silence, his voice coming out firm. "Come, we must ready ourselves."
Grey Worm nods both moving towards the exit but Barristan pauses by the flap and looks back at the Lords. "Prepare your men, my lords," he said, his gaze sweeping across their troubled faces. "You will bring down the Gates of the Moon. While you blind them with the attack, we will start march at Eyrie ourselves."
He did not wait for responses and the two men step out into the black night. Left behind, the lords exchanged heavy, troubled looks until Lord Templeton finally stammered, his voice laced with panic, "Attacking the Gates of the Moon is one thing. But climbing to the Eyrie itself, those men will never reach the high gate. Arrows will cut them down long before that."
Jojen stands up from his seat, steady despite the bone-deep exhaustion clinging to him from his last green-seeing. "They will not, my lord."
Lord Royce turns to Jojen hearing the confidence in his voice and asks sharply. "And how can you know that, boy?"
Jojen's pupils seemed to brighten as if he knew the plan lay by Commander Grey Worm and Ser Barristan will never fail. "Because a dragon will be there, its fire will draw every eye on the battlement above, every arrow will be released in that way. While their gaze is lifted, our army will climb their way up." He looks up, toward the mountain, and continues. "Dragon-fire will light the mountain path brighter than any moon."