Chapter 46: Dragon Nightmare, Autumn Arrives
When Prince Daemon Targaryen first voiced his intent to take Alys Rivers with him, Lord Lyonel Strong of Harrenhal hesitated.
"Alys Rivers is but a serving woman," Lord Lyonel said, his brows furrowing. "What would a prince of House Targaryen want with such a maid?"
Daemon's lips curved into a half-smile. "Alys Rivers is more than she appears, my lord. She has knowledge of herbs, healing, and things beyond mortal ken. Her company might prove… instructive."
Lord Lyonel, ever cautious, had no solid reason to refuse the prince's request. In the end, he yielded. To sweeten the matter, he also offered two of his cousins—sons of Ser Simon Strong, the captain of Harrenhal's guard—to serve in the Kingsguard at King's Landing. For noble houses, having sons sworn to the white cloak was both an honor and a path to influence, especially for those without inheritance rights.
And so, with Lord Lyonel's reluctant blessing, Alys Rivers joined Prince Daemon's retinue, along with the two young Strongs. The royal progress soon departed Harrenhal, dragons taking flight once more.
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The Crossroads of the Kingdom
Caraxes and Vhagar soared over the Riverlands like twin shadows of fire and death. Below them, the Trident gleamed in three hues—the Red Fork, the Blue Fork, and the Green Fork—each bearing the wealth and lifeblood of the realm.
From his saddle, Daemon gazed down at the winding waters. The Red Fork, born in the Westerlands' mountains, ran thick with silt and soil, nourishing Riverrun's fertile plains and carrying trout, oats, and casks of honey from the Blackwoods' lands. The Blue Fork, spring-fed and crystal clear, came from Seagard's heights, bearing wool and fish for trade. The Green Fork, sluggish and mossy, flowed down from the Neck, bringing barley, leeches, and the trade of House Frey at the Twins.
From above, the confluence of rivers looked like veins of molten silver. Poleboats and barges drifted beneath them, their decks laden with goods. Among them flew banners bearing the silver seahorse of House Velaryon.
Daemon smirked. The Sea Snake spreads his reach everywhere, he thought. Even here, he rides the Trident like the sea itself.
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Lady Jeyne Towers of Harroway
Their next stop was Harroway's Town, the beating heart of the Riverlands' commerce. Because the town's walls could not house dragons, Vhagar and Caraxes were settled upon a grassy hill nearby, with sheep and river fish prepared for their feast.
Lady Jeyne Towers came forth to greet the princes. She was thin and sharp-featured, her white hair tied neatly, her step still brisk despite her years. Though well into her sixties, her eyes gleamed with the cunning of a woman who had ruled and survived through many kings.
She bowed deeply. "I have had the honor of hosting King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne more times than I can count," she said proudly. "Their Vermithor and Silverwing once cast their shadows upon these very stones. To welcome Prince Baelon and Prince Daemon today is an honor that stirs old memories."
Daemon noted her strength and the keen intelligence behind her words. Jeyne Towers was born a Velaryon, aunt to Lord Corlys—the famed Sea Snake himself. Her ties to the royal family ran deep, though she carried none of the pride of youth, only the tempered ambition of age.
Her castle was modest but well-kept. Inside, she served roasted trout, goose eggs boiled in cider, venison with blue cheese, and honeyed apples. As they dined, Lady Jeyne spoke at length of her town's prosperity and her wish for it to be granted a royal charter.
"My lord husband and I have ruled Harroway's Town for fifty years," she said. "He is long in his grave, but I keep his dream alive. The crossroads of the Trident, the King's Road, the River Road, the Vale Road—all meet here. With a royal charter, Harroway's Town could rival Gulltown or White Harbor."
Baelon, ever patient, replied with a diplomatic smile. "I shall convey your words to His Grace and the Small Council. Your town indeed stands at the heart of the kingdom."
Daemon added, "A charter alone does not make a city, my lady. Blood, trade, and ambition do. The Sea Snake built Spice Town's wealth not by words, but by daring the unknown seas."
Lady Jeyne's smile thinned. "Aye, and his ambition will one day consume him. House Velaryon rules the waves, but not the sky. Dragons decide who reigns in Westeros, not ships."
Her tone hardened. "Tell your uncle and his lady wife Rhaenys to remember that. Queens born of dragons do not always end well."
Her words hung heavy, like a warning veiled in courtesy.
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Dreams of Winter
The royal procession stayed in Harroway's Town for three days, settling disputes among the Riverlords—between the Darrys, the Butterwells, the Mootons, and the Strongs. Old grudges ran deep in the Riverlands, as tangled as the roots of the weirwoods.
When Daemon's duties were done, he sparred beneath the moonlight with his two handmaids—Mia Hogg and Mona Darklyn—while Lady Jeyne's grandsons tested their steel against the prince. The clash of swords rang across the night until sweat gleamed upon every brow. Daemon barely broke a sweat, his dragon's blood burning hotter than fire.
Lady Jeyne approached him after the bout. "Prince Daemon," she said, "two of my grandsons are eager to serve the realm. Might they find a place among your Kingsguard?"
Daemon studied the eager young men, both second sons with earnest eyes and decent skill. "I shall take Olyvar and Gerwyn," he said at last. "They will learn discipline in the Red Keep."
Lady Jeyne's wrinkled lips curved in satisfaction.
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Autumn's Arrival
When the procession reached Darry, Lord Jon Darry welcomed them warmly. At the feast, roasted bison and quail filled the tables, and sweet lemon cakes perfumed the hall. Yet it was not the food that silenced the lords, but the white raven perched upon the maester's arm.
"From the Citadel," the maester said solemnly. "The white ravens have flown. Summer has ended. Autumn begins."
The words chilled the hall more than any northern wind.
Daemon leaned back, his mind already racing. Autumn. The first whisper of winter's approach. Grain prices would rise. Hunger would spread in the North and the Vale. And when snow sealed the roads, only ships could feed the starving.
The Sea Snake will make his fortune while others freeze, Daemon thought darkly. But dragons will not bow to ships. Fire will rule long after sails rot.
Later, beneath the stars, Daemon spoke with Alys Rivers. "When the cold comes, men will pray to the gods for warmth. But warmth belongs to dragons."
Alys's eyes gleamed like dark mirrors. "And yet even dragons must fear winter, my prince. Fire may burn bright, but ice endures."
Daemon's lips curved. "Then let the world burn before it freezes."
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Alys's Prophecy
As they prepared to leave for Cowshed Town, Alys Rivers stood beside Caraxes, the great red wyrm rumbling in his sleep. Her hair caught the wind like dark silk.
"Tell me," Daemon said, watching her, "what do you see in those river mists, witch of Harrenhal?"
Alys turned to him with a faint smile. "I see fire fighting fire, brother against brother, dragon against dragon. The Gods Eye has witnessed it before. It will again."
Daemon laughed softly. "Perhaps. But when that day comes, I will be the one left standing."
Alys said nothing. She only looked east—toward the lake where once Balerion's fire had turned stone to ash.
And for a moment, even the dragons seemed uneasy.
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End of Chapter 46
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