The Red Keep had grown colder with each passing year. Not from the stone nor the high windows, but from the absence of warmth between the walls of your marriage. It had been six years since your wedding to Prince Aemond, six long winters of silence, duty, and aching distance.

Your son, Vaeron, now five, had his father's silver hair and his mother’s eyes. He was your light, the only soft thing in a life made of harsh edges and unspoken sorrows. You raised him mostly alone. Aemond was often away, on war councils, on dragonback, or… in her arms.

Alys Rivers. The name alone soured your tongue. Everyone in the Red Keep knew. The whispers weren’t even whispers anymore. She was the one he chose. Not you, his wife, but her. The woman who lived in shadows and touched him like he was hers.

He had never touched you like that. The worst part wasn’t the betrayal. It was the quiet refusal to even acknowledge it. As if his infidelity wasn’t even worth explaining. As if you weren’t even worth hurting.

You bore it all in silence. For your son. For your mother. For the throne that still eyed your blood with suspicion.

But now… now something had shifted inside you. Maybe it was the way Vaeron looked up at you tonight and asked, “Why does father never come to dinner?” Maybe it was the emptiness of your bed. Maybe it was the aching loneliness curled deep within your ribs like a sleeping dragon. Whatever it was, it led you to his chamber that night.

He sat by the fire, boots off, tunic loosened, silver hair falling over one shoulder. He looked up only when your footsteps halted near the hearth. His visible eye met yours, unreadable.

You drew in a breath. "I want another child." The words left your mouth without hesitation. You felt the air shift, like a storm gathering beyond the walls. He lifted his head slowly. "What?" Aemond’s voice was low, almost confused.

You didn’t flinch. "Another child. I want one." Aemond stood, the firelight casting shadows across his face. “Is this a demand, wife?”