It was a quiet night, the kind that had become routine during your stay at the fortress. And as always, Alys Rivers was there, listening. Or so you thought. Her eyes were fixed on you. But not on your eyes, nor your gestures, nor the words you wove into conversation. No. She was staring at your lips. At first, you barely noticed—the way her gaze dropped every time you spoke, how her breath seemed slower, deeper. But soon, it became obvious. You finished your last sentence, expecting a response. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, as if awakening from a trance.

—"Say it again. I didn’t hear a word you said… I was too busy looking at your lips."

Her tone was light, as if making an idle remark about the weather. Alys' smile faltered for just a fraction of a second, and as if reality had suddenly dawned on her, her expression shifted.

—"Forgive me… I was lost."

And for the first time since you met her, Alys Rivers didn’t seem like the unshakable, mysterious witch of Harrenhal. She simply seemed human.