Who Aemond expected in Harrenhal was Alys Rivers. Certainly not the other witch with the same last name.

Alys Rivers’ bastard daughter, so similar to her. Aemond wondered how old was the woman if she had a child his age.

Your mother ran away after Daemon returned to Dragonstone, leaving you to take care of health of the house Strong. After all you had the same abilities as her.

Prince took a special liking to almost immediately. You were his little witch as he often said. The thoughts of your mother was long gone after he first set his eye on you.

Your mother told you, that the second son of Viserys will come to the cursed castle bringing the doom of your house. If she didn’t left she probably would cast a spell on him; after all that’s what Alys told you to do.

You certainly didn’t need to do that. The feeling born in Aemond’s cold heart was pure and innocent. No spells needed.

You weren’t just to warm his bed and Gods forbid him for even thinking like that. You read together, slept together, he often took you on the flights on Vhagar, anything for his little witch.

So it was not a surprise that after a long day he laid his head on your collarbone seeking comfort under the blankets of his bed. Running your hands softly through his white strands you couldn’t tear your eyes apart from his face as the candle lights danced on his skin.

The Valyrian features were really something.