The sun set.
Harrenhal, the Godswood.
A sturdy, pale weirwood tree took root here, its dark red leaves scattered all over the ground.
"That is her, the so-called Witch of the Vale."
The two male Children of the Forest who were supposed to have left reappeared and threw a tied-up woman to the ground. Aemon stood under the tree and looked the "victim" over. She had black hair and was dressed in a green skirt. Her figure was plump, her look mature with a hint of age, but her skin was as white as milk, so tender it looked as if you could squeeze water from it.
"Prince, she is Alys Rivers!" Ser Simon was shocked and explained quickly, "She is an illegitimate daughter of House Strong, not a bad person."
"Huh?" Helaena hid behind Aemon, frowning suspiciously.
One of the Children of the Forest immediately retorted, "She is a daughter of the woods. We saw her mixing a potion with our own eyes."
The other pressed the point. "A shadow hangs over this castle, and she is deeply responsible."
"How do you explain that?" Aemon asked, looking at the flustered Ser Simon. Leaf was still quite reliable. Her exceptional talent for natural magic had enabled her to sense something was amiss at Harrenhal, and the two warriors had acted swiftly, kidnapping the unsuspecting Alys Rivers.
"Mmph! Mmph!" Alys Rivers' eyes widened, her body thrashing about on the ground like a shrimp in protest.
"Kill the Forest Witch," Aemon said coolly, believing a final resolution was the best solution.
He glanced back. Laena and Helaena, wrapped in thick clothing, were horrified by what they had witnessed tonight—first the Children of the Forest, then a giant, and now a servant girl of Harrenhal revealed as an evil witch.
"Mmph! Mmph!" Alys Rivers struggled even harder, her round hips plowing furrows in the earth. She was truly terrified. She had not done anything, yet she was being captured and killed. Lyonel, help!
Aemon, seeing the situation was severe enough, said calmly, "Release her gag."
One of the Children leaped forward and pulled the dirty rag from the woman's mouth.
"Ahem… Pah…" Alys Rivers gasped for fresh air, the desire to survive surging within her. "The curse of Harrenhal has nothing to do with me!" she shouted. "Do not kill me!"
The air suddenly became quiet. Aemon glanced up and shot a look at Ser Simon.
Ser Simon was stunned, unable to process what he had just heard. Harrenhal… there really is a curse? And Alys, who had always been regarded as a simple bastard of the family, was indeed a forest witch.
With this thought in mind, Ser Simon stepped forward quickly. "Tell me," he said urgently, "what curse is there in Harrenhal?"
Alys Rivers's green pupils shrank. She keenly realized she had been tricked.
"Tell me, or you will not meet a good end," Ser Simon said harshly. This was related to the rise and fall of his family; he had to be cruel.
Alys's eyes darted around, thinking of a delaying tactic.
"She's lying," Helaena said.
"She deserves to be beaten!" one of the Children spoke at the same time, blocking Alys's retreat. There could be no more lies.
Alys closed her eyes. "As the rumors say, the curse originated from Harren the Black," she said helplessly. "I know nothing more."
"What is the curse?" Ser Simon was not satisfied.
"I do not know," Alys shook her head honestly. "My power is a lie. I can only sense ominous auras, no stronger than the perception of the Children of the Forest."
Ser Simon turned red-faced, rolling up his sleeves, ready to interrogate her personally.
"Wait a minute," Aemon stopped him. "How do you prove you are not lying about your abilities?" A "wood witch" was a general term for those who practiced deception, often speaking in mysterious terms, much like the red priestesses who worshipped the Lord of Light. He knew some of them possessed a little magic, but not much.
Alys Rivers pressed her face to the dirt, her mind racing.
"If you do not tell me, you will have no other chance," Aemon said, glancing back at Helaena.
Helaena understood. Her small hands rummaged through her pockets, pulled out a whistle, and blew. A shrill note cut through the air.
The next moment, there was a movement from the broken top of the Kingspyre Tower. The dozing Dreamfyre suddenly opened its vertical pupils. Its huge body climbed into the sunset, spread its wings, and flew out. With a great boom, Dreamfyre circled and landed in the Godswood.
"Hiss!" Dreamfyre stood behind Helaena, grinning and roaring at Alys Rivers, who was dizzy from the scorching dragon's breath, her hair flying. If she did not speak now, she would be in trouble.
"I can make potions!" she blurted out, her heart pounding. "Some of them, combined with secret recipes, can make people see hallucinations! I can also predict the future and see pictures of what is to come in the flames!"
"You believe in the Lord of Light?" Aemon frowned.
"No, I inherited my knowledge from the First Men," Alys denied.
Aemon's frown deepened. The First Men certainly had extraordinary knowledge; the runes were proof of it. Furthermore, according to this world's law, the stronger the magic, the worse off one becomes—excluding the dragonlords of old Valyria. The First Men, with their bronze-smelting technology, had excelled in both magic and technology. Fearing he might doubt her, Alys added, "Many nobles in the Riverlands worship the Old Gods under the guise of the Seven. Even your own House Strong has not cut down the weirwoods at Harrenhal." She glared at Ser Simon, who blushed and nodded softly.
"Then tell me a prophecy," Aemon said, his interest piqued. He squatted and helped her to her feet.
Alys wasn't shy. Her voluptuous figure swayed, leaning against his youthful chest as she smirked. "Prince, what do you want to know?"
Aemon's forehead veins bulged, but he managed not to throw her to the ground. His senses were exceptionally sharp, and her scent was a sickening mixture of blood, birds, and old age. "Show me…" Aemon gritted his teeth. "How many offspring will I have?" His Highness was occasionally superstitious.
"Light a fire for me," Alys said seriously. Without Aemon's intervention, Helaena commanded Dreamfyre. A burst of orange-yellow dragonflame, tinged with blue, erupted, forming a fiery pit.
"I cannot peer into your future, Prince, but I can see fragments of it from the women around you," Alys said, taking precautions as she huddled before the fire. Her green eyes, half-lidded, reflected the flames, gradually becoming hollow.
"You are quite skilled," Aemon marveled. This was two or three levels higher than the red priests who couldn't even cast an illumination spell.
"I saw it," Alys said expressionlessly. "The Queen who sits on the Iron Throne has borne you only one son."
Really? I do not believe it, Aemon thought. Rhaenyra's fertility perfectly matched her dragon's name; how could their union stop there?
"And more," Alys said, lost in a trance. She glanced at Laena. "She will give you a pair of girls and a son, but the son will take his mother into the flames."
Aemon's face instantly froze. She is right. Without his intervention, Laena would have ordered Vhagar to end her life by dragonfire after a difficult childbirth. The child she hadn't delivered was a boy. He grasped her neck, convinced that superstition was a dangerous thing.
"Hear her out," Laena stepped forward, grasping the hand that threatened to crush Alys's throat.
Alys, seemingly oblivious, continued, "Your two wives, entwined in their chambers, will give you a girl and a boy, respectively. The black swan broke its womb and can no longer lay eggs."
Aemon was in no mood to listen, mentally condemning her to death. Laena, however, listened with rapt interest, calculating the number of children.
Alys's forehead was now covered with sweat, the fire in her eyes flickering with exhaustion. At the last moment, she caught sight of Helaena standing beneath Dreamfyre and blurted out, "The dragon has nine sons, from different mothers."
Helaena blinked. Look at me? What does that mean?
"Are you finished?" Aemon asked indifferently.
Alys regained consciousness. "I saw all this," she explained hurriedly. "It is beyond my control."
"Then you die," Aemon refused to babble. With a snap, a massive hand twisted Alys Rivers' neck, and she collapsed limply in terror. Aemon stepped back and said calmly, "Burn it."
"Dragonfire!" Helaena's voice was crisp.
Dreamfyre crouched low, emitting a burst of flame that enveloped the still-bound corpse. Within a few breaths, only a pool of ash remained.
"Prince, this…" Ser Simon was stunned. Alys was nominally a bastard of House Strong, but privately she had a close relationship with Lyonel and had served as a wet nurse to Harwin and Larys. Some even whispered she was Lyonel's illegitimate daughter. But he knew that even a bastard daughter wouldn't nurse her own half-brother. Her true age and relationships remained a mystery.
"Harrenhal is unsafe. Why not send another letter to King's Landing and ask for Lord Lyonel's opinion?" Aemon said calmly. A mere Alys Rivers was nothing compared to Harrenhal in his eyes. He, a Valyrian dragonlord, had an unwavering answer: whatever skills you possess, in the end, your ashes will be scattered.
A gust of evening wind blew, sweeping up the ashes on the ground and carrying them away.
The two Children of the Forest had been hiding behind the weirwoods since Dreamfyre appeared. Witnessing the terrifying power of dragonfire, fear crossed their faces.
"I… I understand," Ser Simon said, his thighs trembling. Meeting Prince Aemon's calm gaze, his stout body broke into an unprecedented run. A curse, and a bastard with magical powers. Harrenhal was indeed not a safe place. He would have to persuade his nephew to agree to move elsewhere.
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