a maid's folly - aemond targaryen.

epilogue. end.

"Dracarys, Robyn."

"Dwa... caways."

"No, no. Dracarys!"

"Dwacawuys!"

"... good enough for now, little one," Aemond hummed, picking up the toddler with his good arm and holding him to his hip. "Now, how do we greet mother?"

"Muña," Robyn babbled, his chubby arms outstretched as he and Aemond approached Rosemary, who had an apron tied taut around her rounded belly. Her hands were dirtied with flour, which she pat down the front of her dress.

"Very good, little bird!" Rosemary exclaimed, darting over to her two boys, a gentle hand laid on Aemond's arm, to which he leaned in slightly.

"What's for dinner, then, muña?" Aemond purred, pressing his lips to Rosemary's neck, eliciting a giggle from her.

"Venison stew and parsnip mash," she responded. "'Tis no sea bass, but it will do, shouldn't it, husband?"

"I suppose it will." he responded swiftly, placing Robyn down onto the floor as they walked into the small cottage. He stretched his arm and shoulder before perusing the kitchen table. "More letters?" he asked, thumb flitting over parchment that was strewn across the table.

"... yes. She is begging for your return." Rosemary avoided his gaze, stirring the mash that was still cooking on the stovetop.

"I don't understand why– I am useless to them like this." he pulled out a chair with one arm, his only arm– the other one was amputated at the elbow, long healed and scarred over. His eye scar was speckled now with burns, the sapphire gone from his socket. He didn't care to wear an eyepatch these days, his hair shorn short. He looked ghastly to everyone in the village besides his wife and son. He looked like his father now, how his face was sunken and the eye socket unadorned– just... there, with only one arm. When going to town, he wrapped a silken sash over the sullied side of his face, just so he wouldn't scare the children. It was the least he could do.

"The war has been over for six moons, she says– they... they pray for you to come back to King's Landing, Aemond." she pointed out, taking the pot off from the heat.

"I have no dragon, I can't fight– what use am I?"

"You don't have to have a use, husband– you merely need to be alive. Your mother and brother think you dead still."

"I'm better off to them dead–"

"Don't," Rosemary snapped, hands on her hips. "Do not ever say that to me, or around Robyn either. I won't have talk of that in this house."

Aemond bit his lip and tongue, eye lazing over the letter that was pursed between thumb and forefinger.

Dearest Marigold,

I cannot wait to meet my nephew, he sounds like the most wondrous little boy. But we are still not able to leave the nest. The folk are in uprise at the lack of food and resources.

Mother mourns him. Brother has erected a statue in his honor.

You must convince him. We need him here.

Please.

If you are unable to and do not return before the turn of Spring, I shall saddle up and get you all myself.

Best,

Lady Orbweaver

His brow furrowed as he read it over and over again until his lone eye strained and watered from not blinking. "You should burn these."