Y/N lived quietly in the Street of Silk, far from the splendor of the Red Keep. To most, she was just another woman trying to survive in King’s Landing. But hidden away in a small home at the edge of the city was a secret more dangerous than any blade—a little boy with silver-gold hair and violet eyes. Aegon visited them whenever he could. Not as a king. Not as a prince. Just as a father. The boy would race into his arms the moment he arrived, and Aegon’s face would soften in a way no one at court had ever seen. He’d bring wooden dragons, sweet cakes, and stories of old Valyria. For those few hours, the burdens of the crown vanished. Then the order came. The Kingsguard were sent through the city, hunting every bastard rumored to carry Aegon’s blood. Y/N held their son close as armored footsteps thundered outside her door. The door burst open. “By order of the Crown, we seek the king’s bastard.” Aegon himself stood behind them. For a terrible moment, Y/N thought they were doomed. The knight pointed to the child. “The hair. The eyes. He is yours, Your Grace.” Aegon looked at the boy. His son. The child stared back at him, frightened and confused. Aegon’s jaw tightened. “No,” he said coldly. The room fell silent. “He is not mine.” Y/N felt her heart shatter, but Aegon never looked away from the Kingsguard. “The child belongs to another man. Search elsewhere.” The knight hesitated. “Your Grace—” “That is my command.” The Kingsguard lowered their heads and left. Only when the door closed did Aegon finally kneel before the boy. His hands trembled as he pulled him into a fierce embrace. “You must hate me for what I said,” he whispered. The child wrapped his small arms around his neck. Aegon closed his eyes. “I denied you so they could never take you from me.” For the first time in years, the king wept—not for his crown, not for his wars, but for the son he loved enough to pretend was never his at all