Of Bulls and Trees
Eleventh Day of the Twelfth Month 292 AC
The false lord of Storm's End staggers slightly as solid earth materializes under your feet after the moment of rushing emptiness, then looks through your solar. "I thought you would want to ride it not kill it," he says motioning towards the polished head of the fey-drake you killed years ago in Braavos.
"The creature was rather more clever than the dragons my ancestors rode thought its temperament left about as much to be desired as Cannibal's," you answer lightly, though thinking back you realize that you had since made common cause with beings that did far more harm to you and to others than you know that guardian drake did.
Wasting no time you lead your guest through the corridors of the keen and out into the godswood with its ring of somber sentinel pines guarding the heart tree which had a year ago almost to the day seen Damphair's blood spilled upon its roots. The few worshipers who had sought the secluded tree quickly depart your approach though not before sharping curious glances with the changeling.
"So there are bull-men..." he says thoughtfully to the broad furred back of Argo as the giant warrior vanishes through the trees.
"Yes, though they are no more demons then the Heart Tree is about to rip itself up from its roots and start haunting the streets in search of blood," you answer dryly, rather than telling in full the dark tale of the minotaurs' birth.
The false Baratheon laughs appreciatively of your rather sour jest, though you can see he noted your omission. He remains silent as you release the spell of transformation on the fiend, still held tight between Ser Richard and Garin, then speaks as they secure it to a stake at the base of the heart-tree. "A strange faith to find in Essos this..."
"The Old Gods give much that is of use, like this tree and ask for little save that their few structures be kept,"
and for the bloody destruction of scores of ancient noble Houses, you think but forbear from saying.
Your guest looks so startled that for a moment you wonder if he had heard the unvoiced thought, but her merely asks: "Do all heart trees have such powers?"
"No, they must be consecrated through certain rituals." A lie might have served you better here as it would not beg the question of where you had learned such magics, but better that small hint than to have Westerosi nobles chain fiends to any heart-tree in sight in the hope of imprisoning them, or worse yet some fool thinking to use one as a aid in
summoning.
While you had been speaking Tyene had cursed the bound devil by the simple expedient of slapping it about the face then she draws back far enough to as to be out of reach of its claws and kindles a single thin ray of healing light.
"Fools," the silent voice of the devil had lost something of its power, though none of its malice.
"Send me back and be done with it, I can no more betray my contracts than I can grow wings and ascend to grace."
What do you answer?
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OOC: I almost had a vote on the Weirwood question, but in the end I decided that Viserys has dealt with too many fiends to take the risk of perpetuating misinformation that might lead to more of them being let loose. 
