“You left more than empty promises behind that night, my prince.” She whispered hoarsely.

Aegon exhaled through his nose, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Is that so?” He took a slow sip of his wine, letting his violet eyes flicker toward the bundle she held. “And what, exactly, do you want from me?”

The woman stepped closer, her grip tightening around the child. “I want nothing,” she said. “Only for you to look at him.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Aegon leaned forward. The moment his gaze fell upon the child, his smirk faltered. Pale silver hair curled against the babe’s soft skin, and when its tiny eyes fluttered open, he was met with a shade of violet unmistakably Valyrian.

His fingers tensed around his goblet.

The woman saw the shift in his expression and pressed on. “I do not ask for a title. I do not ask for gold. But he is your blood, and one day, he will know it.”

Aegon let out a dry chuckle, though there was little humor in it. “And what would you have me do?” He gestured lazily with his free hand. “Take him into the castle? Present him to my father? ‘Look, Your Grace, another mistake I’ve made.’”

The woman did not flinch. “You are a prince. His future is yours to decide.”

Aegon looked at the child again, jaw tightening. He had played at being a man for years—drinking, fighting, bedding whoever pleased him—but this was something different. Something real. He set his goblet down, fingers drumming against the table as he considered his choices. His first son.

Finally, he sighed. “Leave him with the maids in the keep,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. “He will want for nothing.” His eyes flicked back up to the woman, sharp once more. “But do not think this changes anything.”

The woman nodded once, lingering just long enough to brush a kiss against the babe’s forehead. Then she turned and left without another word.

Aegon leaned back in his chair, reaching blindly for his wine. But as he drank, his eyes remained fixed on the door, the image of silver hair and violet eyes burned into his mind.