Disclaimer: I don't own ASoIaF/GoT.

I know the twins Cersei had murdered were born/killed in Casterly Rock, but for the sake of the story I am making it King's Landing instead.

Direwolf Names (Aly's generation):

Brandon: Silver

Eddard: Laochra (means "hero")

Lyanna: Eirwen (means "white as snow")

Alysanne: Crystal

Benjen: Cole

Chapter Seventeen

Alysanne IV

King's Landing: July 1st, 298 AC

Aly had not bothered to attend the tourney. Nor would Oberyn be attending the first day either. Her husband was busy working to ensure that the realm did not fall apart because its so-called king was too busy bedding whores and drinking himself to death to rule it, and Aly herself had her own task to perform today, a far more important one than sitting watching a bunch of arrogant southron idiots try and get themselves killed over a bag of gold they would inevitably waste on useless luxuries. She had left her children to watch the tourney in Myriame's care whilst she went to do her task, preparing herself mentally as best she could for it, as it would not be easy. Personal tasks rarely were, of course.

Her carriage pulled up in front of the ramshackle boarding house, and Ser Daemon opened the door to help her climb down from it. His expression was tense and worried, and he looked around as she descended from the carriage. At five moons pregnant, her stomach was beginning to hamper her movements, though Aly refused to let that stop her. Winter was Coming and Aly was Unbowed, Unbent and Unbroken.

"Milady, I do not like this," Daemon informed her. "Fleabottom is no place for the wife of the Hand of the King to be. Or any lady, for that matter."

"Yet it is where I am," Aly replied calmly, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes. Her patience for southron thoughts of what women should and should not do lessened whenever she carried a babe within in, and it only got worse with each passing moon. Crystal jumped down after her and she patted her companion's head fondly.

"Do not be so concerned, Ser Daemon," she told her guard, softening at the anxious look in his eyes. He was a good man, and only worried for her safety. She was being unfair to him. She blamed the discomfort of being with child, which by default meant her sullen mood and short temper was Oberyn's fault, and she would need to chide him for it at some point soon. This would be their last child, she swore it. And yes, she had said that during each of pregnancies before deciding she wanted another babe sometime later, but this time she meant it.

"I am quite safe, I am sure," she continued. "I have you, Sers Garris, Andrey, and Theomore to protect me. Not to mention Crystal, who is worth another five guards by herself. In addition to all of that, I am not without the ability to defend myself long enough for help to arrive either. I promised the matrons that I would come to see Hanna, and that is what I shall do."

Ser Daemon looked reluctant, but did not bother to try and protest any further as Aly walked up to the door of the small thatch-roofed boarding house and rapped on it, Crystal at her heels and her guards surrounding her. She could see the people peering at her group with interest and suspicion, but the heavily-armoured guards and Crystal's large and fierce-looking appearance kept them from approaching her.

The door opened a fraction and an eye appeared in the opening. "Who's it?" a woman demanded gruffly. The men bristled, but Aly remained calm, smiling genially.

"I am Lady Alysanne Martell," she explained gently. "Wife to his Lordship, the Hand of the King. I am here to see Hanna."

The door opened fully to reveal a wide-eyed, elderly woman. She gave a clumsy curtsey. "I beg yer fergiveness, milady," she stammered. "I didn'-"

Aly raised a hand, still smiling. "Do not worry, Mistress," she assured the woman. "I have taken no offense, I promise you that. You are quite right to be cautious about the safety of the people who live here. Might I be permitted to enter and see Hanna, please?"

The woman glanced anxiously at her guards. "We don' permi' men in 'ere, milady," she said nervously. "It', the girls- an', an' some o' them-"

"My men will remain outside then," Aly declared.

"Lady Martell!" Daemon protested. "His Lordship-"

"I will deal with my husband, should it be necessary," Aly replied to him firmly. "But Mistress, ah, forgive me, I do not know your name."

"Melessa, milady," she whispered.

Aly nodded, flashing the woman another smile, trying to assure her though she knew that it was probably hopeless. Queen Cersei, unlike Queen Rhaella, never bothered to step foot in the poorer areas of town, or even outside of the keep most of the time. Given the woman had a Riverlands accent was thus likely relatively new to the capital, Gods only knew how long it had been since the woman had laid eyes on a highborn person of either gender, and she had probably never spoken to any at all. She surely had no experience with a noble lady coming to speak with her kindly, or looking for one of her girls.

"Mistress Melessa is quite right to deny men entrance to a women and children's boarding house," Aly continued. "I shall be perfectly fine. Is it acceptable for my wolf to come inside with me, Mistress? I promise that Crystal is well trained. She will harm nobody."

Eyeing Crystal dubiously, the woman nodded a fraction. Daemon sighed and gave in. He had known Aly for long enough to realize when she would give in and when she would not. This was definitely one of the latter times.

Satisfied, Aly turned back to Melessa. "May I see Hanna?" she inquired again.

Melessa allowed her entrance, wiping her hands on her heavy apron anxiously. "I will brin' ya ta 'er, milady," she said. "Bu' I can' say if she'll speak ta ya. She's bin distraught fer moons. E'er since 'er poor babes died, gods rest their little souls."

Aly nodded solemnly. "I heard," she sighed. "I used to visit the orphanage that she grew up in, back when I served Queen Rhaella and the late Princess Lyanna as a lady-in-waiting. That is how I know her. I have been visiting the places we used to go ever since I came with my husband to the capital. The matrons told me of Hanna's sorrow, and what caused it. I wished to see if I could provide any solace to her."

"Yer the kindest lady I e'er me', milady," Melessa replied seriously as she led the way up a narrow staircase. "I didn' live 'ere in the capital when the dragons ruled, bu' I 'ear thin's. I can' say tha' I care 'oo rules, bu' it sounds ta me tha' the loss o' Queen Rhaella an' the Prince and Princess were tragedies. Sure as the sky's blue, 'em two up a' tha castle callin' 'emselves rulers don' give a damn abou' anythin' other than their wine and fancy trinkets. Not like the Silver Prince an' his lovely wife an' mother."

Abruptly, she appeared to realize whom she was speaking to, and looked stricken. "Fergive me, milady," she rushed out. "I didn' mean ta speak ill o' Their Graces, they-"

"Hush now," Aly murmured, reaching out to clasp the woman's hand. "Do not fear. I quite agree with you, I fear. The world would have been a greater place for everyone, had the crown been put on the head of Rhaegar the First, not Robert the First."

Melessa swallowed and did not reply to Aly's remark as she stopped outside a shut door, gesturing to it. "This is Hanna's room," she said. "Bu', 's like I said, milady. She's not bin speakin' ta anybody since she los' 'er boys. 's all we can do ta make 'er ea', mos' days."

"I will try anyway," Aly stated firmly. Melessa nodded and opened the door, stepping inside.

"'anna, love?" she called gently. "Someone's 'ere ta see ya." There was no answer, and Melessa shrugged helplessly as she turned to Aly.

Aly nodded and stepped past her into the room, with Crystal following. "I would like to speak to you before I leave," she told the woman. "I promise, you need not fear my guards, but if it makes yourself and the others more comfortable, then feel free to bar the doors."

Melessa looked a mixture of relieved and guilty. "Fergive me for any insul', milady, bu' I migh' do jus' tha'," she agreed. "'s jus'-"

"I understand," Aly cut her off, gently resting a hand on the woman's shoulder. She truly did. This was a boarding house for women who had been raped, were fleeing abusive male relatives, or had been orphaned or widowed and had nowhere else to go. Many were mothers with young children to support alone. They stayed afloat by running a seamstress service, but Aly had no doubt that it was a great struggle, especially without alms from the Crown. With so many women who had been terrorized by men living in the building, the corruption of the city guard that was only just starting to be tackled by her husband and Ser Brynden, and without any trusted men around to protect them either, Aly did not think that anybody could justifiably blame them for fearing men. Regrettably, she knew that many would anyway.

Aly already intended to alter her budget again so that she could be diverting some more funds towards giving alms to the place after this, a fact she intended to inform Mistress Melessa of at the end of her visit. And perhaps she would see if she could organize some form of protection for the women and children living there. As the Green Men preached, it was the duty of the highborn to care for and protect their smallfolk. The smallfolk of King's Landing were untended to by the queen who was responsible for them, and so it fell to Aly to do so in the dratted woman's place.

If only Queen Rhaella or Lyanna were here, this would never have happened. Rhaegar would never have allowed the city to fall into such straits. He had been a People's Prince, and Aly had seen more than a bit of evidence that the smallfolk still mourned him. They cared little for who sat on the Iron Throne, but Rhaegar, Lyanna and Rhaella had all cared for them, and shown it. Robert and Cersei did not. Their lives had been better beneath the Targaryens, in spite of Aerys' insanity, which had rarely touched the commons. That mattered a great deal to the smallfolk.

Robert was an arrogant, self-centred fool, and Cersei was even worse. The commons would not put up with the state of things forever. Aly looked forward to it, honestly. The Usurper and his lioness whore of a wife deserved to suffer for their crimes. Aly did not typically consider herself to be a vindictive woman. Hatred was exhausting. But for those traitors, she made an exception.

Melessa nodded and left to respond to a child's cry from the level above, leaving Aly alone to go inside the bedroom.

It was a small room, the size of a stall in the castle stables in her estimation. The floorboards were bare and they creaked under her feet as she stepped inside. There was a small bed shoved into the corner, with a slim young woman lying beneath a faded and patched woollen blanket, staring vacantly up at the ceiling and not responding to Aly's arrival at all. The room itself was almost bereft of any furniture at all except the bed, a small stand for a candle, a hook on the wall for a spare dress and a wooden cradle at the end of the bed, with two ragged teddy bears and a small blanket left on it. Thinking of Hanna's lost babes, Aly felt her heart ache in sympathy.

She had lost two children herself, one to miscarriage and one who had died within hours of his birth. Not even the massacre of her family during the Sack had made her as distraught. Had she not had her other children to live for, Aly would have taken her husband's dagger and opened her wrists with it after her sweet little Morgan had died in her arms.

He had been so very small, the only one of her babes to inherit her pale complexion instead of his father's olive one. His breaths had come in painful wheezes. Oberyn had raged and wept and cursed when he stopped doing so, and Aly had pressed desperately on his tiny chest, put her mouth over his as if she could force him back to life. Oberyn had eventually been forced to pull her son's tiny body from her arms as she clawed at the his face to try and stop him from taking her babe away, weeping hysterically until they forced sweetsleep down her throat to make her sleep.

Yet, it had been during those awful days of grief that she had started to genuinely love her husband, instead of just having a measure of fondness and respect for him. He had sat beside her, coaxing her back from her haze of bereavement and self-blame, assuring her that it was not her fault, reminding her that Rickard, the Sand Snakes and eleven-month-old Lia all needed her still.

"Hanna," she called, pushing away the grim memories. "Hanna, may I come in?"

There was no reply, so Aly made her way her inside, ignoring the squeaking of the floorboards, and sat down on the edge of the bed.

She reached out to move a lock of auburn hair out of Hanna's face and then stroked her cheek, trying to make her react in some manner. "Hanna," she repeated. "Sweetling, do you remember me?"

At last, Hanna responded to her. She shifted her head and peered at Aly's listlessly, squinting through blue eyes, dulled by grief. "Princess Lya?" she frowned. Then she shook her head. "No. No. Princess Lya's dead. Dead with 'er babes. Like me boys. Yer Magnara Aly. Ya tol' us stories, an' brough' us parchmen' an' showed us 'ow ta draw. I liked yer stories. Ya would 'ave pictures ta go with 'em, so tha' we coul' imagine i' be'er."

"That's right," Aly encouraged her softly. "Look, Crystal is with me. Do you remember her as well?"

Hanna nodded, looking at the wolf who took up the rest of the room with her bulk, in spite of being the smallest of her litter.

"Yea, I 'member," she confirmed. "You 'ad Crystal, an' Princess Lya 'ad Eirwen, who's name meant somethin' ta do with snow, an' Magnar Ben 'ad Cole 'cause 'o 'ow dark 'is fur was, an' tha Kingsguard, Brandon 'oo was real 'andsome an' charmin' and made ev'ryone blush, 'e had Silver. We were frightened o' 'em a' firs', 'cause 'o 'ow big they are, bu' they usedta play with us, an' lick our faces like liddle puppies."

"Yes, they did, and you would all laugh fiercely whenever they did it," Aly replied, pleased by the amount of talk she had managed to coax from the devastated young woman.

Hanna gave a brief smile, but then her face crumpled. "Me boys'd've loved 'em!" she declared, bursting into heaving sobs that made her malnourished frame shake with the force of them.

"Oh, sweetling," Aly sighed heavily, pulling the girl into her arms and stroking her dark red curls. "Hush, hush. I know that it is not alright, and that you will always grieve your boys. But life goes on, my love. Why don't you tell me of them?"

Hanna sniffled and spoke. "Twins, they were," she informed Aly. "Jus' babes. I named 'em, I named 'em Rhaegar an' Brandon, 'cause the prince an' yer brother were some o' the best men I e'er met. I'd'a bin the proudest woman alive, if my boys got ta be 'alf tha men they were."

"They would have been honoured," Aly assured her truthfully. Hanna briefly looked pleased before her face crumpled again.

"They were such 'andsome lads," she sniffled. "Big an' strong. Tha same blue eyes an' black 'air as their father." She froze and cast a guilty look at Aly. "I didn' wanna do i'," she defended herself. "No' af'er 'ow 'e killed tha Prince an' the stuff 'e did ta poor Princess Lya an' 'er babes. Bu', 'e's tha king, an' he tol' me 'e wanted me ta come ta 'is rooms, an'-"

"It's alright, sweetling," Aly assured her gently. "I understand. You cannot refuse a king. I know, it's alright."

It was a painful fact that highborn men would not typically accept a lowborn woman refusing their advances. They would push until the woman gave in, or else simply force the matter physically. In general, most maids simply gave in to avoid angering the lord who desired them, risking harm to themselves or loss of employment, and prayed that they would be able to hide their ruin, or that their men would forgive them.

Hanna nodded gratefully and continued with talking about her sons. "They were such good boys," she said. "'ardly e'er cried or nothin'. I was nervous the 'ole o' me pregnancy, bu' tha second tha' I 'eld 'em, I knew tha' I'd burn tha w'ole world ta a crisp fer 'em. But I couldn't do nothin' ta save 'em from 'er."

She spat the last word with utter loathing and venom, briefly coming alive with raw hatred. Aly frowned, a dark suspicion coming to life within her mind. Hanna, a former laundress at the Red Keep, had born two bastard sons of the king. And now she was speaking of being unable to shield her sons from a woman.

"The queen?" she inquired lowly. Hanna nodded, expression dark with anger and grief.

"Aye," she confirmed bitterly. "Damn 'er ta tha deepest o' the 'ells an' may she rot there."

"What happened, sweetling?" Aly pressed as gently as she could, though she thought that she knew the outline already.

Hanna sniffed and explained, the raw agony in her eyes shattering Aly's heart.

"They was only six moons ol' at tha time," she said dully. "I was bringin' 'em ta work with me. They'd be in a basket, 'appy ou', while I did tha washin'. Then one day, 'm just scrubbin' some sheets, an' tha queen comes stormin' in with a coupla guards. 'er blasted redcloaks. She 'ad 'em 'old me by tha arms while she 'eld me boys under tha water ta drown 'em. I begged an' pleaded, bu' she jus' ignored me. She jus' killed 'em, with 'er own 'ands. Me boys. She killed 'em, and they was just liddle babes, they wasn't a threat ta anybody. 'e didn' know 'bout them, I wasn' gonna go an' tell 'im or anythin', I swear! They was just babes!"

She descended into another round of sobs, whilst Aly pulled her close and rubbed her back soothingly, ignoring the wet stain forming on her shoulder as her mind worked furiously.

"She will not get away with her crimes, I promise you that, Hanna," Aly whispered into her ear. "By earth and fire, by bronze and iron, by ice and fire, in the sight of the Old Gods who watch us now, I vow to you that Cersei will pay for everything she has done."

A great many commoners, more than many nobles or septons and septas realized, followed the Old Gods, for the pure and simple fact that the Green Men never demanded tithes that they couldn't afford to pay. Hanna, like everyone else who had grown up in the Green Man-supported orphanage in Fleabottom, was one of them. She knew the strength of the oath that Aly had just made.

"So mote it said, so mote it be, an' may tha Ol' Gods strike ya down if yer a liar," the girl replied solemnly, still leaning into Aly's embrace, though now her tears fell silently instead.

She stayed a while longer, soothing Hanna, telling her stories and listening to her describe her lost sons, before the dimming sunlight prodded her into leaving. She kissed the girl's cheek and promised to return, before heading back down the stairs again. In the foyer, she found Mistress Melessa, seated on a chair and working on patching a dress for a young girl with a young toddler sucking his tiny fingers and sitting in a basket at Melessa's feet. There was another chair placed beneath the door-handle, and the lock was done.

The woman hastily rose on Aly's appearance, making another awkward attempt at a curtsey. Aly gave a strained smile to her, inclining her head politely and bidding her to rise.

"I spoke with her for awhile, and she did respond," Aly commented. Melessa gasped at that, looking relieved and hopeful.

"Truly, milady?" she asked eagerly. "We've bin doin' our bes', bu' wha' 'appened ta 'er boys..."

"Aye, I know," Aly agreed sadly. "A horrible, unnecessary tragedy. I lost two children, but that was the will of the Gods. I cannot imagine how horrific it was for her. But yes, she did speak with me. I shall return when I can, though I cannot say when it shall be. For the moment," she paused and untied the coin purse on her hip, handing it over to Melessa.

The matron's eyes went wide as saucers when she heard the clinking of the coins, and she stared in shock at the money inside after she undid the strings to peer inside. Aly smiled at her, sympathetic to the tears welling within the woman's eyes.

"This is all I am able to give for now," Aly told the overwrought woman gently. "But I shall do my best to ensure that I send more."

"Milady, I cannot express me thanks enough," Melessa wept. "Yer an angel, tha's whatcha are. Gods bless you, milady. Gods bless you."

Aly shook her head, but did not insult the woman by claiming that providing money to help the residents of the building was nothing. That demeaned what their lives were worth. "I must be going, unfortunately," she stated apologetically.

Melessa, still shaken with tears in her grey-blue eyes, hiccupped and nodded, hastening to remove the chair and undo the lock to allow Aly to exit, saying more blessings as she went. Aly gave her goodbyes, then allowed the tense Ser Daemon to escort her to the waiting carriage where she and Crystal clambered inside and the carriage shuttered into motion, returning to the Red Keep, Aly lost herself in troubled thoughts that she had forced herself not to dwell on whilst with Hanna.

Cersei had murdered two infants. Her hands clenched into fists so tight that she felt blood well from the shallow indents she created in her palms. Gods, had the woman no shame or heart at all? She was a mother herself, yet she was perfectly willing to kill children! She forced herself to put aside her emotions and think with cold analysis, as otherwise she would storm through the Red Keep until she got to the queen and ripped her thrice-damned golden head off.

She focused her thoughts on the main question her visit had prompted.

Why would Cersei kill a pair of her husband's bastards?

Oh, Aly knew the danger of royal bastards perfectly well. She was a descendant of the Kings of Winter and the granddaughter of a Targaryen Princess, after all. Her father had lost his arm fighting in the War of the Ninepenny Kings that at last ended the threat of the Blackfyres. A royal bastard could be a dangerous thing.

In fact, Aly's original motives for treating her stepdaughters as her own had not been so altruistic as they might appear. She had gotten with child on her wedding night, and by the time she'd arrived at Sunspear she was already visibly pregnant. On discovering the presence of the young trio of girls, she had known that she had two options.

Either she could copy the actions of southron women and treat them with, at best, indifference, making them outsiders of their own family and risking both her husband's ire and causing them to resent both her and their trueborn half-siblings.

Or, she could do as Winterlander woman did and treat them lovingly, as if they were her own blood, and encourage them to bond with their younger half-siblings, thus ensuring their loyalty to the family. It had been a simple choice, and she had grown to genuinely love the three girls.

But Hanna's twins had not been a threat to Cersei's children. They were lowborn and unacknowledged by their father, and but infants at that. Even if they were acknowledged by Robert, or even legitimized through some mad miracle such as when Aegon the Unworthy had legitimized all of his own bastards on his deathbed (and the Unworthy reminded Aly a bit of Robert Baratheon. He too had been a great warrior in his youth, and he too had allowed himself to descend into whoring and gluttony after gaining the throne.), the twins would not have threatened Cersei's children's inheritance. They were lowborn twins over a decade younger than Joffrey, born to a laundress. Nobody would have supported them over the treuborn Crown Prince.

If Cersei was going to worry about any of her husband's natural children, she ought to be concerned about his acknowledged children. He had two that Aly knew of. A girl, his eldest known child, in the Vale, and a boy sired on a noblewoman who was fostered at Lord Renly's seat of Dragonstone. Edric Waters, Aly thought the boy's name was.

That Cersei, the daughter of Tywin Lannister, who had climbed to power by murdering women and children, had murdered a pair of innocent babes did not surprise Aly, though it angered her. But the action puzzled her as well because she couldn't understand the logic behind it. She was missing something, some key part of the puzzle. It all centred around Robert's bastards, clearly. It seemed like it was linked to Lord Arryn and Lord Stannis' investigation too, given they had been looking into the king's natural children. Aly felt sure that, once she found the missing piece, she would at last understand why Jon Arryn had been murdered, why Cersei had killed Hanna's babes.

But she simply couldn't think what it was, and Aly brooded over the whole thing until she arrived back at the Keep. It seemed that most people had yet to return from the tourney grounds after the end of the first day of jousting, meaning the keep was mostly empty, allowing Aly to dwell on everything she knew as she headed back to the Tower of the Hand.

The answer was staring them both in the face, she just knew it. Whenever she and her husband at last managed to find the missing piece of the puzzle, they would be kicking themselves for taking so long to realize what they were missing.

She arrived back at the Tower shortly before Oberyn and the children returned. To her dismay, her children were all shaken and shocked.

"A man died, Mother!" Mariah blurted out the minute she saw Aly, darting in for a tight embrace. The boys, who usually tried to act grown up now that they were all out of the nursery, came to her for comfort. Even her two stepdaughters, came over to join the hug, all of them pale and upset, Lia with shimmering eyes. None of her children had ever seen a man die before, and clearly it had shaken them all up a great deal.

"It was terrible, Mama," Arron whimpered. "Ser Gregor jabbed him right through his neck, and blood went everywhere, and-"

"Oh, my poor desert wolves, how frightening for you all to see," she murmured, her heart jumped at the name of her sister's murderer as she gathered them all to her bosom and murmured reassurances and comforting words to soothe them.

Eventually, they settled and dispersed, and Oberyn came over to pull her into his arms for a kiss. At first, she assumed that the reason he pressed his lips against her ear was a signal that he wanted her to join him in bed. It was a typical sign of his desires, in normal circumstances.

Evidently, her husband was learning how to act in King's Landing, because under the guise of nibbling at her ear he whispered to her so nobody else could learn what his words were. There was a large window just behind Aly's back, and she had already noticed one of the queen's spies in the window directly across from them, the pair of them in full view.

"The man who was killed by the Mountain was Jon's squire," he muttered to her as she pretended to kiss his jaw. "The Lannisters' most faithful attack dog conveniently killed one of the few people who might know anything relevant about Jon's investigation in the entire city, before I could find the time to question him myself. What do you think of that, my wife?"

"I think that if it is a coincidence," she whispered back, holding her lips just a fraction of a centimetre away from his mouth, as if she were kissing him. "Then it is a lucky one indeed for the lions. I have my own information to share with you, Husband. But first," she pulled away from him and adjusted her dress to fix it. "We ought to have dinner, my love," she stated. "Our children will be pleased to spend time with you. I will as well."

"And I with all of you," he sighed, reaching out to intertwine their fingers and lead her into the dining room where the children were all either seated or arguing over who was going to sit where, though they were more subdued than usual. "If the Gods are good, then when this blasted tourney is over I will no longer be so busy, and can cease neglecting my familial responsibilities at last."

"I look forward to it," she replied softly, just before they joined their children and had to put their private conversations aside in favour of being parents and settling their children's disputes.