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The Bloody Gate had fallen. The Vale's front door now lay wide open—like a ball of dough ready for anyone to shape.
Daeron called a war council and laid out the plan.
"Lord Lyman Darry, you will serve as temporary Warden of the Mountain Road and castellan of the Bloody Gate. Hold the passes through the Mountains of the Moon."
Lyman's face lit up with excitement. "Yes, my prince!"
Of the six great Riverlands houses, House Darry and House Whent were closest to the crown. Walter Whent already held the River Road. Now it was House Darry's turn. Lyman could barely contain his joy. Even if the position was temporary, good service would make it permanent.
Daeron motioned him to step back and continued assigning commands.
The Warden of the Mountain Road had far less power than the Warden of the River Road. The Riverlands were open country where House Whent could rally local strength. The Mountain Road was remote and plagued by mountain clans. It wasn't the most glamorous post, but it still carried real military authority granted directly by the crown. Elevating House Darry also kept House Whent from growing too dominant in the Riverlands.
"Lord Randyll Tarly, you will take the Reach host and sweep the Vale clean."
Daeron gave the orders one by one.
Lyman Darry would hold the Bloody Gate with two thousand men.
Prince Lewyn and ten thousand Dornish spears would accompany Daeron to the Eyrie itself.
All prisoners would be held until the campaign was complete.
The machine of war moved forward smoothly—like a vast net slowly tightening over the Vale.
---
The Eyrie.
When news arrived that the Bloody Gate had fallen, followed by reports that Robert was gravely wounded, Denys Arryn was dead, and Eddard Stark's fate was unknown, Jon Arryn nearly collapsed on the spot.
He forced himself to stay upright and groaned in disbelief. "The Bloody Gate… lost so easily?"
That fortress had guarded House Arryn for thousands of years. It could hold back ten thousand men.
Now it was gone. The Eyrie lay naked and defenseless.
Jon rubbed his aching temples, remembering the last time House Arryn had fallen—when Queen Visenya and Vhagar had simply flown to the Eyrie and accepted the Vale's surrender without spilling a drop of blood.
This time was far crueler.
Daeron had smashed through the Bloody Gate with dragons and now marched ten thousand men into the Vale. The Eyrie's doom was at hand.
"Ten thousand men… where did they get ten thousand men?!"
The sheer disparity in numbers made Jon want to die on the spot.
BOOM—
A distant explosion echoed up from the foot of the mountain. Thick smoke rose into the sky.
A guard burst in. "Moon Gate has fallen!"
Worse news followed in rapid succession: Stone Gate, Snow Gate, and Long Sky Gate—all lost.
The loyalist army was advancing like wildfire.
"Cousin, we have to leave!" Albert Arryn rushed into the chamber.
Jon Arryn, already resigned to death, said calmly, "Every road down the mountain is now held by the enemy. Where would we even run?"
Albert had no answer.
The Eyrie was considered one of the strongest castles in the Seven Kingdoms precisely because of the Bloody Gate. With that gone, there was no escape.
Albert's hand rested on his sword hilt. His voice shook. "Cousin… I'll take the remaining garrison and try to hold them a little longer."
The words sounded hollow even to himself.
Jon Arryn looked at his nephew and saw the truth. "Bind me and surrender to the Iron Throne," he said quietly. "I don't want our bloodline wiped out. I'll give you the best chance I can. Don't waste it."
Albert flushed with shame. He had indeed been thinking of surrender. But hearing his uncle offer himself up made him feel like the lowest worm alive.
"If you don't do it soon, it will be too late," Jon said.
Albert hesitated, sweat pouring down his face.
BOOM—
Daeron on Caraxes smashed open the Eyrie's gates, burned every guard foolish enough to resist, and landed in the cramped courtyard.
He looked around at the white towers rising into the clouds. The Eyrie was undeniably beautiful—perhaps the most stunning natural setting in Westeros.
Its only real flaw was how small it was. Smaller even than Riverrun. Just seven slender white towers clustered together around a modest courtyard.
"My prince, we have Jon Arryn and Albert Arryn in custody," Barristan reported, hurrying over.
Ser Jon added, "Ser Albert bound Lord Arryn himself and announced surrender."
Daeron's face remained cold. "They waited until the very end to surrender? Useless."
He ordered every prisoner in the Eyrie locked up pending execution. The lords and soldiers captured at Moon Gate, Stone Gate, Snow Gate, and Sky Gate were put to the sword on the spot. No mercy.
At this final stage, someone had to pay in blood and iron.
---
The Vale.
Randyll Tarly led seventy thousand Reachmen in a ruthless sweep.
The power structure of the Vale was complex. There were the old First Men houses—Royce of Runestone, Redfort, Hunter of Longbow Hall—and the newer Andal houses led by the Arryns themselves, along with Corbray, Templeton, and others. After thousands of years the bloodlines had mixed, but old rivalries remained.
With the Arryns broken and the Eyrie taken, the entire fertile bowl of the Vale had to be brought under direct royal control.
Daeron had no intention of being gentle with the old nobility.
Randyll carried out his orders without hesitation. Any lord or landed knight family that had supported the rebellion was marked for destruction. Castles were taken, families executed, lands seized.
In just half a month the Vale ran red with blood. Randyll earned himself several charming new titles among the Valemen: "the Butcher," "the Killer," "the Death God."
Now he stood before Ninestars, seat of House Templeton—an old landed-knight family that had grown wealthy over the centuries. Their heads were traditionally called "the Knight of Ninestars."
Ser Simon Templeton had answered his liege's call and brought over a thousand men to the Vale host. After the disaster at the Red Fork, he had wisely withdrawn.
Now his house was on the list.
"My lord, what do we do?" one of his household knights asked, voice trembling as he stared at the sea of Tarly banners outside the walls.
Randyll Tarly's reputation had spread like plague. Wherever his army went, no one was left alive.
"We hold the castle," Ser Simon said. He was in his thirties, tall and lean with hard blue eyes and a short black beard. Even he had no real plan.
Then a brilliant blue shape tore through the clouds overhead.
Shaena, dressed in black riding leathers, guided Tessarion in a slow circle above Ninestars.
"Dragon!" Ser Simon's heart sank.
But instead of attacking, the Reach army pulled back. A herald rode forward under a flag of parley.
Ser Simon opened the gates at once.
Shaena dismounted in front of the Reach host and stroked Tessarion's scales.
"Princess," Ser Simon said, bowing deeply.
Shaena spoke softly but clearly. "Prince Daeron offers you the position of Steward of the Vale. You will answer directly to the Iron Throne and manage all taxes, revenues, and finances of the Vale."
Her voice was gentle, her appearance almost delicate.
To Simon Templeton it sounded like the sweetest music he had ever heard.
He dropped to one knee, offered his sword, and swore fealty with genuine fervor.
Shaena accepted the blade, rested it on his shoulder for a moment, then said simply, "Serve Daeron faithfully. No schemes."
"Yes, Princess!"
Soon after, Simon Templeton brought the remaining Vale nobility and landed knights together and had them swear loyalty to the Iron Throne, abandoning the defeated Arryns. Those who refused were swiftly dealt with by Randyll.
Simon was raised to lordship and confirmed as Steward of the Vale, tasked with governing the lesser nobility and landed knights.
This mercy was entirely due to Daeron's pragmatism. Had he wanted, he could have ordered every last one of them killed. But someone had to rule the Vale.
---
Meanwhile, Daeron sat in the Eyrie and summoned the surviving Vale lords to a great council.
It was both a formal declaration of conquest and a complete reshuffling of power in the Vale.
And it sent one clear message across the Seven Kingdoms:
The War of the Usurper was over.