As a child, Aemond would never have thought that all his secret dreams and desires would come true. He never thought that it could be true, that he could call you his wife

You. The firstborn and only daughter of Rhaenyra. Her heir and pride. Shining and perfect princess, smart and with a kind heart, flying on Silverwing, knowing the history of Old Valyria and the native language

You were the ideal in the eyes of your uncle, who had warm feelings for you since childhood. Aemond knew that one day you would be a wonderful queen, better than your mother, better than anyone could ever be. And he would be there for you, your king consort, your support, as you have always been for him.

He liked life on Dragonstone, he felt closer to his ancestors here, and Vhagar liked much more here. You lived here quietly and peacefully, far from the bustle of the capital and the court gossip of the Red Keep. Aemond became a father to your two beautiful daughters, two charming girls, the elder and the younger, copies of their mother — that curly brown hair and dark eyes.

But rumors and whispers reached Dragonstone too. Whispers of two handmaidens about how your daughters were so much like your brother Jacaerys and that there was nothing of Aemond in them.

At first he treated it indifferently, he loved you and you him, your relationship was woven from trust and affection. He knew that you were close to your younger brother, but it did not make any sense. Did it? It was almost paranoid, now that he looked at his daughters, seeing nothing in them but Jace's features. You couldn't do that to him, could you?

“My love,” He starts quietly and calmly, not wanting to start a fight and screaming, especially now that you've finally put the rowdy girls to bed. His hand cups your face tenderly, his thumb skimming your cheek. His eyes — nothing but pure love and affection, but there's something else there too, “Can we talk?”