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"Damn it, woman, let me in!” Balon roared as he pounded on her bedchamber door. “I am king!”
“You were king,” Alannys shouted back.
Her husband had given away his crown along with their only surviving son in exchange for his miserable hide. King Robert had bade him kneel and swear his rebellion was dead, but what is dead can never die. It had been in Balon’s eyes, even as he swore, and King Robert had seen it. His men had dragged her poor, sweet Theon from the hall for surety before Balon had scarcely found his feet. Alannys had been given leave to bring Theon his things and say her farewells the next day. Asha had joined her. Balon had not.
In the early days of their marriage, Alannys had sailed with Balon on his ship as he raided and traded along the coast of Essos. Her blood up from their adventures, she had taken her husband as often as he had her, if not more so. Even after her babes had left her anchored on shore, they had remained passionate in their lovemaking. No more. She might have forgiven him for the loss of her sons, but not for the pride and cowardice that kept him from saying goodbye to Theon. In the three moons since the war had ended, she’d not let Balon in her rooms once.
Bared from her bed, Balon kicked the door like a petulant child. “I am still your lord and husband,” he yelled. “I must have an heir.”
“You have one!”
He signed and slumped against the door. “Please, love,” he said quietly, his voice breaking. “I need a son. No man will follow Asha.”
Alannys wrenched the door open, sending her husband stumbling forward into the room. “You have a son,” she hissed. “You have Theon.”
“The wolves have Theon.”
“And whose fault is that?” Alannys demanded, shoving his chest. The flash of guilt in his eyes just made her angrier. “Whose fault is Rodrik?” She shoved him again. “And Maron? Whose fault—”
He seized her mouth in a brutal kiss and her blood sang. The taste of his flooded her mouth as she bit down. She slapped him, hard, but let him maneuver her backwards onto the bed. The Drowned God take him for what he’d done, yet her cunt was as wet for him as always. Alannys gave herself to him, but she swore she would not give him another child.
The next morning at breakfast, she drank tea with her porridge.
Asha’s nose wrinkled at the smell of it. “What is that, Mother? God, it’s foul.”
“It’s moon tea, sweetling,” Alannys said loudly. Balon looked up sharply. Alannys held his gaze as she drank.
“Rodrik says…said that whores drink moon tea to keep from getting with child,” Asha said later that night as Alannys brushed her hair for bed.
Alannys snorted. “Every woman drinks moon tea on occasion, at least if they have any sense.” She divided Asha’s hair and began to braid. “I’m usually more discrete, but I am making a point to your father.”
A thrall could manage Asha’s hair just as well, but it was Alannys’s pleasure to do it. Each night, they sat before her polished bronze mirror as she brushed and braided her daughter’s hair. When he was small, Theon would join them, watching from the bed as Alannys brushed and told stories. At six, his brothers had tested him so mercilessly about it, he declared himself too old for such childish, womanly things. The world was always in such a rush to drag boys from their mothers’ arms. With daughters, a woman could be as tender as she liked, at least until they married.
“Don’t you want more babes now my brothers are gone? Father certainly seems to. I heard him shouting about it. I—” Asha hesitated, biting her lip. She turned to face Alannys, spoiling the braid she had begun. “I would not mind, if you did. It might be a comfort to you.”
“It would not,” Alannys snapped, wrenching her daughter’s head back into position. “Your brothers are not replaceable.” She yanked the loosened braid tight. Asha cried out. Alannys released her hair as if burned. “I’m sorry, sweetling,” she gasped, her eyes filling with tears. “I’m so sorry.”
She took up the brush and stroked until she no longer felt like weeping. After a long moment, Asha allowed herself to loosen and lean into it.
“I can not bear the thought of another child,” Alannys said once she was calm enough to speak again. “In truth, your father does not want one either. It’s an heir he wants,” she said, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice. “What he needs though is to set aside his pride and have care of the heir he has.”
She planted a kiss atop her daughter’s head and began to braid.
Balon disappeared for two turns of the moon and returned with five boys: a Botley, a Farwynd, a Goodbrother, a Spar, and a Volmark. Alannys looked them over as Balon ushered the boys into her solar. They were near an age with Asha, or just a bit younger. The Farwynd was tall and dreamy-eyed, the Goodbrother short and sharp. The Volmark boy had a scar below his right eye recent enough to have come from the war. The Spar was rather homely, while the Botley boy was the handsomest of the lot.
“Who are they?” Asha eagerly set aside her mending. The boys stared at her like sheep.
“Your wards, my lady,” Balon presented them to Alannys with a little bow. “To comfort you in your grief.”
“What an…unexpected pleasure,” Alannys said through gritted teeth. The boys shifted nervously and she made herself smile for their sake. “You are all quite welcome of course,” she lied and busied herself offering bread and salt.
“If you will excuse me, my daughter will keep you entertained while I see to your rooms.”
Balon favored her with a curt nod as she saw herself out. Alannys glared daggers back. Guests she could have gotten away with sticking in the Bloody Keep, but wards were to be treated as family. They would need to be housed in the Sea Tower. Not Rodrik’s room, of course, nor Maron’s, nor Theon’s. She could not bear the thought of another boy in them any more than another in her womb. That did not leave many options, but doubling up should keep the boys warm at night at the very least.
The boys might have been Alannys’s wards, but in the following weeks she saw little of them outside of meals. They spent their days training in arms and following Asha like a pack of puppies. She seemed to relish the attention. Asha had always played with axes as well as dolls, but now the dolls had been set aside in favor of adventures with the wards. The six of them sparred in the yard, rode, hawked, and dived from the cliffs together. While her elder brothers had forever tried to bar her from such things, these boys went out of their way to welcome her and Asha loved them for it.
Alannys, meanwhile, grew less fond of them each passing day.
“Why are they here?” she demanded as she pushed her way into Balon’s solar.
He looked up sharply from the ledger he’d been looking over. “Who?”
“Those boys. Why did you bring them here?” Alannys paced before his desk. “I do not want them here. Why should I not send them home?”
“Are they not a comfort?” Balon asked mildly.
“A comfort!” Alannys laughed wildly, hysterically even. “A comfort.” She slammed her hands on the desk. “I hear them laughing in the halls and, for a moment, I think they are ours. Our sons. My sons. Here. Safe. Alive.” Her voice broke on the word. “Then I remember why that can not be and it breaks my heart. Every. Single. Time.”
He stared at her wide-eyed. “My love—” he reached for her.
She whirled away and resumed to be her pacing. Try as she might, she could not contain her tears. “Is this meant to be my punishment then, for denying you?”
“No, my love!” Balon sprang from his seat to take her in his arms.
“Then send them away,” Alannys sobbed into his chest. “Send them away before the drive me mad.”
“I can not do that.”
Alannys jerked away. “Why not? Explain to me what is so important you can not spare me this torment?” She might be able stand them here a little longer if their presence here kept their fathers from making trouble. Hostages she could stick in the Bloody Keep and be done with.
He would not meet her eyes. “I need an heir.”
“You have a—”
“Theon is not here.” He turned away. “How long until he is a stranger to me?” he asked, his shoulders slumping. “To the Islands? I can not let a stranger rule here after me.”
“So you would give your seat to one of them? They’re not even Greyjoys!”
“They could be.” Balon took her hands. “You can not bear another child. I accept that, but Asha could.”
Alannys stared uncomprehending. He could not mean what he was suggesting. Asha was too young to safely bear children. And what would poor Theon’s life be worth if Balon passed him over for a grandchild? He could cost her both of her remaining children. And for what?
“The boys are all younger sons. Their fathers have all agreed. Should Asha choose them, they will take our name and their son shall be my heir.”
He stumbled backwards with the force of her blow. Alannys stormed out without another word.
Alannys wondered if the boys knew of their fathers’ arrangement. They certainly danced to Asha’s every whim as though they did. Alannys considered her daughter’s face in the mirror as she brushed out her hair. Asha was no more a great beauty than was Alannys herself. Her nose was too big for her face, too sharp. The pimples did her no favors and she’d likely end up with scars if she did not stop popping them. Her best feature was her hair: black as a raven’s wing, long, thick, and beautiful. That and a chance to be Balon’s good-son could win a girl plenty of suitors.
“Do you mind the wards being here?” Alannys asked as she brushed.
Asha shook her head. “What is there to mind? They’re great fun to tease and thrash in the yard. It has been too quiet here since…I had missed the…the sound of boys.”
“They are not your brothers."
Asha snorted. “God, I should hope not. I’d not let my brothers put their hands up my shirt.”
Alannys’s heart leapt into her throat. How close was Balon’s mad plan to succeeding? “Glad to hear I raised no Targaryen,” she said with forced lightness. “Is it one boy in particular, or have you been trying them all out?”
“Tris.” Asha’s ears burned pink.
“Botley?” He was comely enough and he never got mad when she bested him in the yard. It would not be a terrible match, all thing considered, except for the way any son of theirs would make Theon expendable. “He has eyes like a seal.”
“He does, doesn’t he?” Asha sighed like a besotted child.
“And you like him then? It’s serious?”
“I-I like kissing him well enough, but he keeps going on about our sons.” Asha rolled her eyes. “I told him I don’t want sons. I want adventures, but he doesn’t listen.”
Men never did, especially when what was said might get in the way of their ambition.
“A woman can have sons and adventures both, you know. I did.” That was what she had always wanted for her daughter, at least before Balon had gone and ruined everything.
Asha scoffed. “You gave up your adventures for your sons and now you have neither.”
The words struck Alannys like a blow. The brush fell from her nerveless grasp as she stumbled back onto the bed. In the mirror, Asha’s face was stricken.
“Mother, I’m sorry.” Asha rushed to her side and took her hands. “I see how losing them has wounded you and I—I can’t.” She shook her head. “That won’t be me. I won’t let it.”
“But it could be.” Alannys tucked a stray lock of Asha’s hair behind her ear with a trembling hand. “Your father means to marry you to Tris and name your son his heir.”
“No,” Asha whispered. She pulled away. “Father would not—”
“He would.” Alannys seized her daughter’s hands before she could rise. “He is desperate for an heir. Say the word and I will get rid of Tris so long as you help me make your father see the heir he still has.”
Asha expression was hollow, vulnerable, then her face hardened. “Do it,” she ordered, as firm and decisive as any captain. Alannys had always thought her daughter resembled her, but, in that moment, she looked like Balon. “I will show him his heir.”
It wasn’t until Asha hacked off all her beautiful hair that Alannys realized she’d meant herself. There was nothing left to do but mourn the ruin of her family.