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Chapter 28: Chapter 23: PromiseNotes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

"If I had not become queen, I might have liked to be a maester. I read, I write, I think, I am not afraid of ravens… or a bit of blood. There are other highborn girls who feel the same. Why not admit them to your Citadel? If they cannot keep up, send them home, the way you send home boys who are not clever enough. If you would give the girls a chance, you might be surprised by how many forge a chain."

-Queen Alysanne Targaryen, the Good Queen, advising the Conclave of Archmaesters to accept female students

100 AC, Dragonstone

You know that old stereotype where grandma kisses you on your forehead, tucks you into bed and reads you a bedtime story? That was exactly what Queen Alysanne did to me.

"And so the Serpent in Scarlet knelt and removed his helm." Queen Alysanne spoke, inserting dramatic inflection into her voice. "And the entire audience all gasped at the sight of his face."

I gasped exaggeratedly in response, eagerly asking my great grandmother to continue. I already knew the tale, of course, but I wasn't above pandering to my audience.

"And do you know who the Serpent in Scarlet was?" Grandmama asked leadingly.

"Ser Jonquil Darke!" I exclaimed, throwing my hands in the air in faux excitement.

Queen Alysanne smiled at my words, affectionately petting me on my head.

"Lady Jonquil is not a knight, Little Dragon." The Good Queen told me.

"You haven't knighted her yet?!" I demanded, puffing up my cheeks in indignation. "After all this time?!"

Queen Alysanne began laughing, the sound surprisingly girly and youthful for a woman of her age.

"Grandmama! How could you?" I accused. "You're the Good Queen, not the Stingy Queen!"

The Queen of the Seven Kingdoms was doubled in over laughter, wiping tears of amusement from her eyes.

"Oh, you're so funny, sweetling." The Good Queen gasped out, between peals of laughter. "I haven't laughed like that in years."

"You haven't answered my question." I pouted. "Why haven't you knighted Lady Jonquil yet?"

"Girls cannot become knights, sweetling." Queen Alysanne told me.

"We can't?!" I demanded, lacing my voice with as much incredulity and disbelief as I could while making my eye twitch. "Why not?!"

"It's tradition, my dear." The Good Queen told me. "Girls cannot be knighted."

"First you tell me girls cannot sit the Iron Throne, now you tell me that girls cannot become knights!" I petulantly complained, throwing my hands up in frustration. "What next, you tell me that girls cannot become septons or maesters?!"

Queen Alysanne didn't say anything, but the look on the face told me everything I needed to know. I let the energy drain out of me, slumping back on the pillows and looking down sadly, folding into myself.

"We can't, can we?" I mournfully said, my great-grandmother sighing in response. I knew that sigh. It was the same one she gave when she told me why women couldn't sit the Iron Throne. Laden with so much sadness, regret and tiredness that it was practically a physical thing.

The Good Queen seemed to shrink in on herself, eyes looking down. She was weeping, but unlike before, these were not tears of mirth.

"I wanted to allow girls to become maesters." Queen Alysanne mourned. "I tried to convince the Conclave of Archmaesters, my husband, House Hightower. Any and everyone whom could do such a deed."

"They didn't listen, did they?"

"No." The Queen Alysanne softly said.

Her voice was genteel and refined. Soft and motherly. And yet, for one brief moment, I thought she was Queen Visenya, alight with wroth and savage might. For within that one single word, a mere two letters, contained an ocean of hate and bile. All directed at the injustice of this horrid world, where women were expected to be little more than ornaments to be given out at their father or brother's discretion. Trophies for their husbands. Prize broodmares in all but name, traded like cattle by men.

It was said, that for all his wisdom and progressiveness, King Jaehaerys had Maegor the Cruel's temper buried deep within him. A dragon that was hard to wake, but when roused, the entire Realm trembled at its roar.

And today, I had found the equivalent within his wife.

It was an excellent reminder that my family were dragons. Gentle and friendly though they may be, deep down, they still were apex predators at heart, with all the Fire and Blood that implied.

I got out of bed and hugged my crying great-grandmother, nuzzling into her.

"Then I guess this is another promise, Grandmama." I told her. "I swear to you, here and now, that I will see girls enter the Citadel with their heads held high, and one day become maesters in their own right."

I stuck out a tiny pinky, and the Good Queen shook it.

"I guess this is another promise I'll have to hold you to." Grandmama tearfully said.

———

106 AC, Fyrepit

"I want to be a maester." Seven-year-old Rhaegar Fyre declared, voice cutting straight through the Fyrepit, murmurs blooming in its wake, everyone asking Daemon's fourthborn a dozen questions all at once, the voices only silenced when my book shut with a snap.

Placing Blood Majick Volume One down on the nearest table, I approached my cousin, the assorted Fyres and mothers parting before me like the sea before Moses.

"Are you sure?" I asked. "Once you swear your vows, they are lifelong."

"Yes." Rhaegar agreed. "It's everything I always wanted to do."

He didn't sound particularly enthusiastic about that prospect, but then again, he was quite the introvert, and hardly emoted at all. Of all the Dragonseeds, Rhaegar Fyre was an enigma, even to me.

Oh sure, I knew his background. I'd read the report Mysaria had on him even before he told me about himself. But even so, I still had had no idea as to just what Rhaegar wanted.

The lad was good at nearly anything he attempted, from swordplay to the harp, but never the best. He always came in second or third place among the Dragonseeds. I got the feeling that he could have gotten first, but that would have required him to go seriously.

It wasn't laziness that prevented him from going seriously, but rather apathy. Rhaegar moved from one thing to the next, perpetually drifting aimlessly.

He hadn't found anything that interested him yet, I decided. Perhaps he saw the Citadel as a way to find such a passion. Something to do with his life. A purpose.

"Very well then." I finally agreed. "If you say that is what you want, then I shall fund your tuition for you."

"Thank you, Nyra." Rhaegar replied.

"Anyone else want to go to the Citadel?" I asked, turning around and surveying the room.

"I'd like to follow my brother, but girls can't become maesters." Six-year-old Daenys Fyre lamented with a sigh. "I guess I'll just stay behind and hold down the fort."

Daenys was young and pious, with a girlish innocence and sweetness to her. She looked and sounded nothing like her great-grandmother, and yet I could only hear Queen Alysanne in her voice. Could only see the Good Queen on Daenys' pouting face. As I looked at my young cousin, Daemon's fifthborn, something calcified within me. Something great and mighty. Filling my every pore until it could fill no more.

"Not if I have anything to say about it." I declared.

———

106 AC, Citadel, Oldtown

"Preposterous!" The Archmaester of Raverny declared. "This is rank madness!"

"Exactly!" Another Archmaester added. "No woman may ever set foot within the hallowed halls of the Citadel, it is forbidden, your grace."

That was an exaggeration.

While it was true that women were barred from entering the Citadel proper, practical needs had seen the rules bent on the outskirts of the complex. The maesters needed a way to see female patients, for one, and more importantly, there were always the odd female VIP they had to entertain, Queens and the like, whom were too high ranking for them to dismiss from their grounds.

Hence the maesters had either raised or converted an entire block of the Citadel into a 'visitation hall' of sorts. Well furnished, with the odd marvel to amaze the uninitiated, it showed off the wealth and influence of the maesters in a most tasteful manner.

And it here that the Conclave had been summoned to meet with my delegation. It made a comical sight. The twenty-one Archmaesters sat on one side of the extremely long table, facing a mere three individuals. It felt totally lopsided, with the number of people I'd brought being almost slightingly small, but that was missing the point.

While I could have brought in a dozen or so lordlings in for prestige, it would have been pointless. As Prince of Dragonstone, I held uncontested authority second only to the King and Hand themselves.

Heck, I could have dispensed with the only two delegates I'd brought for that exact same reason. If I told Laena to deploy Vhagar, she did it. And if I wanted Lord Lyonel Hightower to run errands for me, run those errands he would. Neither of them could gainsay a direct order from me when it came down to it.

In this case, the Archmaesters' numbers worked against them. As a collection of equals, their authority was diluted and divided, while mine was concentrated and unquestionable.

"I believe my great-grandmother Queen Alysanne advised the Conclave of Archmaesters to consider accepting female students over fifty years ago." I pointedly replied, leaning forwards on the table.

"Yes, and we considered the notion foolish." The Archmaester of Geography declared. "It is not a woman's place to learn the studies of men."

"Indeed. The gods shaped women to bear and raise children, not to become knights, be they of the body or the mind." The Archmaester of Religion said. "Their battlefield is the birthing bed."

"I beg to differ." Uncle Vaegon stiffly disagreed. "Rhaenyra holds the sharpest mind of the generation. It would be not just foolish, but a catastrophe, not to see it polished and sharpened by the whetstone of learning."

"We've been over this before, Vaegon." The Archmaester of Warfare reminded my uncle. "While I do not deny her brightness, it is simply not done. The Citadel does not accept females. This is as an inviolable law."

"Not true." Lord Hightower pointed out. "It is known that there have been several women whom have dressed as men and snuck into the Citadel and forged links."

"Is there?" I curiously asked, turning to face Lord Otto Hightower's older brother and overlord. "I didn't realise."

"Indeed." The Archmaester of Magic concurred. "It's one of those dirty little secrets that we try keep quiet, but there have been a few that slipped through the cracks."

"Usually with the help of an accomplice Archmaester, to help them fraud their way through an inspection." The Archmaester of Alchemy noted, giving Uncle Vaegon the stink-eye.

"But that is one thing. This is another." The Archmaester of Astronomy firmly stated. "Unlike all before you, you insist on attending openly as a female. This we cannot tolerate."

"There is room for compromise in this though." The Archmaester of Healing placatingly said. "We forget that it is not Princess Rhaenyra that stands before us, but Prince Rhaenyra. By the laws of the Realm, she is the firstborn son of King Viserys."

There was a murmur of begrudging agreement throughout the room.

"An exception could be made." One of the Archmaesters conceded.

Oh how easy it would be to accept this, here and now. Already this was a great step forward for womankind, but I'd made a promise to Queen Alysanne. I intended on seeing it through.

And liar and cheat though I may be, I was a man—I mean woman—of my word. If I gave a promise, I'd keep it, come hell or high water.

"No." I denied.

"No?" The Archmaester of Ravenry repeated confusedly.

"I will not be the exception." I flatly stated. "The Citadel shall accept female students alongside males, and allow women to swear the vows of a maester in their own rights. There can be no compromise in this."

"You ask too much of us!" The Archmaester of Religion thundered, slamming his fist onto the table with a loud bang.

"Ask, yes." I drawled. "I am asking."

I leaned forward, grinning viciously, my mouth all teeth and malice, and the Conclave flinched. The men all leaning back involuntarily in fear. There was a pressure in the air now, like the wind gathering before a storm, the bullet falling into the chamber, the crossbow drawing back before the snap. A pressure that made those before me struggle to breath or even move.

Back when I was thirteen, I'd gotten into trouble for some really silly reason, and my English teacher Mr Yang had viciously taken me to task over it. I don't remember much of the rather harsh scolding, but I was utterly fascinated by the way that he could root me to the spot through sheer presence alone, rip the ability to command my limbs from me, like the baleful glare of Medusa. I'd sworn, then and there, that I'd one day learn to replicate the skill.

A promise that I had kept.

Sakki. Killing Intent, Yuuki called it. Bloodlust was a more accurate translation, but it was close enough. And though it sounded like a fantastical skill from anime I could personally confirm it's existence IRL. Killing Intent really was a real skill. And like all skills, it could be taught.

Now, I was no Yuuki, whom could freeze a person just by glaring at them, but I'd put together a decent enough imitation.

"I am asking you nicely now, so that we may negotiate your reward." I smilingly said. "The next time, I'll be telling you to do it, and instead of a reward, we'll be discussing your punishment."

"Yes, I hear the Citadel has the greatest library on Westeros." Laena smirked amusedly. "It'd be a shame if something were to happen to it."

Outside the window, Vhagar let out a long yawn, heat wafting of the dragon in a haze. The Archmaesters all unable to tear their eyes off the sight of Queen Visenya's mount.

I leaned back, languidly lounging on my chair, my folding fan coming up to hide my grin.

"So what's your answer?"

———

106 AC, Dragonstone Crypt

The statue was beautiful. White marble, in stark contrast to the black dragonstone the rest of the castle was made of.

Queen Alysanne looked younger than I'd ever seen. The stonemason had done an impressive job. The Good Queen looked so young and happy, smiling as she stood hand in hand with her brother-husband. I could see the love and affection between the two. A perfect couple, ready to bring a golden age upon the Seven Kingdoms.

I knelt before the statues, and bowed my head before the elegant urn containing the ashes of my great-grandparents. I placed a wreath of flowers in front of the urn. Winter Roses. Blue as frost and fragrant as a dream.

While the Northmen liked to boast that none could grow below the Neck, that was not true. There existed one single colony of Winter Roses in the south, grown in a specifically built glass garden in the innermost sanctum of the Citadel, beyond the reach of all womankind.

Until now.

"Grandmama." I softly said. "I've fulfilled the promise I made you."

Notes:

I cried while writing this. I feel that Queen Alysanne is just such a sad character.

—Alice