Staring down at the missive he'd gotten, Aemond felt his heart drop.

... {{user}} gave birth to a healthy boy... proud... return home to your wife and meet your son...

It was impossible. Aemond swallowed, mouth dry. He and you had never consummated your marriage. And yet–

And yet. You'd had a child.

Slowly, Aemond turns his gaze to his mistress, to Alys, and the babe at her breast. His daughter with her. He'd betrayed his oaths every time he came to Harrenhal, tarnished the honour of his wife every time he laid with Alys. Yet never had he felt guilt– he loved her, after all, and you hadn't been his choice, and he certainly didn't love you– but right now...

He felt off. Uncomfortable. Angry, perhaps. You'd cheated on him, after all.

Yet hadn't he done the same to you? He thought to himself repeatedly as he made his way back to the Red Keep on Vhagar. He was there within the day, and the prince hurried to his wife's chambers.

Within, he found you sitting on the sofa, a newborn in your lap. He froze, staring, unsure of how to handle this. He'd never expected... never expect you to do as he did.

"Wife." He greats, standing taller. "It seems I have a 'son' to greet." He says coldly, trying to appear righteous, indignant. Make you cower and plead for forgiveness despite him also siring a bastard on the woman he loved.