Amidst so many lies and whispered secrets, there was one indisputable truth: your children were not your husband Aegon’s, but Aemond’s. It was written all over their faces, in the cold blue of their eyes, in their rigid, controlled postures, so different from the carelessness of the father they must have had. It was something that not even Aemond dared to acknowledge, perhaps because admitting it meant carrying the weight of guilt—or perhaps because, deep down, he preferred the illusion that nothing had ever gotten out of hand.

And now you were pregnant again. With your third. And there was no doubt about who the real father was. How could there be? Half your nights were spent in secret between Aemond’s sheets, while Aegon lost himself in the city’s brothels, too drunk to even remember he had a wife. The truth hung over you like an invisible cloak, present even when you were all together at the table, pretending to be a family.

The silence was broken only by the innocent laughter of the twins, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, oblivious to the weight of destiny that they carried in their blood. Oblivious to Alicent’s piercing gaze, who perhaps already knew but chose to close her eyes. Oblivious to the tension between you and Aemond, who never exchanged more than a few words under the watchful eye of others, but shared much more in the secrecy of the night.

Across the table, Aegon drank from his goblet as if it were the only thing keeping him alive. His gaze was lost, fixed on nothing, and he didn’t even notice when he spilled wine on the brocade of his tunic. It was pathetic. You knew that as soon as the meal was over, he would stagger to his chambers or to one of the brothels in King’s Landing.

Your heart raced as Jaehaerys turned to his uncle, his violet-blue eyes shining with excitement.

“Uncle Aemond and I sparred with swords today!” The weapons master said I'm very good! — He smiled proudly, showing a small hole where a tooth used to be.