Alayne sings Northern lullabies for the littlest Sand Snakes. They have tired themselves out in the pools of the Water Garden, and comes begging for stories as she sits with Arianne in the shade, working on her latest commission. She trades the asked-for stories for songs, to calm them.

The wolf howls in the dark forest

He wants to sleep, but cannot

Hunger tears at his wolf's stomach

And his bed is so very cold

Oh, wolf, you wolf, stay away!

I will never give you my child!

She follows the Northern lullabies with a Riverlander one that her mother used to sing, and then finishes with a song she learned in the Eyrie. Dorea and Loreza are all but falling asleep when she finishes, and Alayne strokes wet hair out of their eyes. Arianne's eyes are soft as she looks on them; she cares greatly for her cousins. Soon Ellaria comes to claim her youngest for a light meal followed by siesta.

If someone asks about her Northern and Riverlander songs she will simply lie, and say that her mother was from the North, and a beloved nanny from the Riverlands. She could of course prevaricate, say that she heard the songs somewhere, somewhen, that they don't really matter – but that would be the greater untruth. She grew up with those songs. They were the sounds of Winterfell. Old Nan, the maids, the wives of Father's bannermen, they all sang the Northern songs of grief and gladness and strange creatures in the woods. Now that she isn't forced to sing (in any way), she finds that she loves it once more.

The songs of courtly love, knights and maidens fair – those young Sansa had learnt for herself when dreaming of a gilded Southron life. Alayne finds she doesn't care for them at all now, no single note about Florian and Jonquil will pass her lips. Those songs are all lies. Instead she sings the songs of her childhood, and asks for similar Dornish ones. This is something she can share with Arianne. They sing together, of the shifting sands, the heat, the endless ships in Nymeria's fleet, and Alayne's clear voice mingles sweetly with Arianne's huskier one.

They are in bed, Arianne and her, and moonlight falls sharp across the floor. The hour is late, but Alayne has finally gathered her courage to say something they have only hinted at between them.

"I am Alayne Stone, truly. But I wasn't always. I wasn't born with that name. Please – ask me no questions and I won't lie to you. But know this, I mean neither you, your House, nor Dorne herself, harm."

Arianne looks piercingly at her, then kisses her swiftly and forcefully. Their lips part with a smack.

"I believe you, my flame. You have made a life here now, and were your intentions evil, either I, or my father or uncle would have found out by now. You have harmed no one, and helped many, in your time here. And you give me joy, my flame, so much joy."

That she has helped other women, as no-one helped Sansa, has been her greatest pride since she came to Dorne. She emulates the women of the boarding house who helped her upon her arrival in Planky Town. Women in Dorne have different (more) rights, so her help has been less about the moon-tea and bruise balm that she used as an excuse to escape Winterfell, and more about giving them a place to stay and help finding their feet. A few of those young women, her Doree among them, she has taught their letters and numbers, to give them better chances at employment. Literacy is valuable.

In one case though, she did need that bruise balm. It was then that she first met Princess Arianne in a more serious setting. A young man could not take no for an answer and his supposed affection for the girl seeking Alayne's help took the shape of split lips and necklaces of bruises. When the city watch could not find him, but he kept tormenting Alayne's young charge, she turned to the ruling House for help. Everyone knew the Martells couldn't abide violence against women, especially after what happened to Princess Elia.

Alayne's impassioned plea for help, and her protectiveness towards Lara, woke Princess Arianne's curiosity. Within days the problem with the elusive, would-be rapist was solved and Alayne was called back to Sunspear. Ostensibly it was for making a new wardrobe for the Princess. While she did fit Princess Arianne for new dresses, their time together was filled with increasingly intimate conversation, and then kisses. When she left those fittings, Alayne's lips were bitten red as ripe raspberries, and she felt drunk. Before long, the Princess was calling upon Alayne in her home and inviting her to Sunspear for more time spent together.

Within a year Alayne joined Princess Arianne's household as her paramour, though she still took commission. She brought with her Doree, as her personal maid. They fit well together, Arianne and Alayne. Arianne had her uncle Prince Oberyn's passion and a wary distance to her father that Alayne could sympathise with. Still, with Westeros in such upheaval ever since the Usurper's death, Alayne would always counsel caution, and even reconciliation with Prince Doran. (Dear Seven, but that made her feel like a hypocrite of the worst order, when she herself could not forgive the family she had abandoned in the cruellest way. Perhaps she is living vicariously through Arianne in this matter.)

Arianne always wanted Alayne to speak her mind, but about this they fought. Arianne's long-held hurt in relation to her father made her cruel. Finding out the truth behind her old misconceptions soothed that old pain. After reconciling with her father, and again being taken into his council about the future of Dorne, she swallowed her pride and apologised to Alayne.

Thus, Alayne was made one of Princess Arianne's advisors. The hard-gained knowledge of navigating politics had never really left her and the Dornish court was far less toxic. Here she also had a status that the child of a traitor simply hadn't had. She has the ear of a Princess. And if the political savvy of a bastard seamstress surprises the high-born, then that was something to use to her advantage and to laugh about later with Arianne.

/AN: So that lullaby? Not mine, just a rather horrible translation (my own translation at that) of Vargavisan.

/Edit to put in the line breaks that stupid ff-dot-net ate *sigh*