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Chapter Text

Alleras the Sphinx hereby begs leave of the Archmaesters to supplicate for a copper maester’s link...

Alleras stopped writing and scratched out the line with a sigh.

If he were submitting this to the Mage, it would be easy. I found this in the secret compartment of one of my father’s trunks. Can I translate it for a copper link? But Archmaester Marwyn's subjects of record did not include history, though he knew as much or more than any of the archmaesters who were on record for it. He would instead face Archmaester Perestan, whose scholarship consistently struck the perfect balance of rage-inducing tedium to ruin Alleras’ day without teaching him anything useful.

He looked at the paper again, blank below the crossed-out line. He would need to submit a fair copy, but it was more important to get the words on the page.

Alleras the Sphinx begs leave of the Archmaesters of the Citadel to supplicate for as many copper links as the Archmaesters deem fitting through submission of an authoritative edition and translation of Florilegia Dracarya, or A Flowering of Dragons, a heretofore unknown record of all the ladies-in-waiting to serve Queens of House Targaryen, last possessed by Queen Rhaella, wife to the Mad King Aerys II, who died in the year 283 after the Conquest.

There would need to be proof, of course. Alleras did not intend to submit the entire text for one link—it was at least ten years’ work to transcribe, annotate, and produce commentary for the book that had been sitting, forgotten, in the bottom of a rosewood trunk since the fall of the Targaryens. But for purposes of a first copper link, he could submit a translation of two, maybe three reigns, show off what he could do.

Except that it was Perestan. Perestan’s face had a permanent scowl that deepened any time a woman came up in conversation. But Perestan was in charge of the copper links.

Alleras started with the driest of description.

This text comprises one octavo volume of approximately four-inch thickness, bound in what Archmaester Marwyn has confirmed to be dragonskin; based on chronological and stylistic considerations, he submits that the dragon in question may have, in fact, been Vhagar, most famously the mount of Queen Visenya Targaryen, sister-wife to Aegon the Conqueror. The front cover and the spine are both stamped with the sigil of House Targaryen but no other text appears on the volume’s exterior. There are perhaps as many as eight hundred pages, and the entries conclude not with Queen Rhaella’s ladies-in-waiting, but those of Princess Elia Martell, written in what may in fact be the hand of Queen Rhaella herself, which would suggest the account was written during the last months of the queen's life, while she was besieged at Dragonstone. I have not yet had the opportunity to compare these final pages to the handful of examples we have of the queen’s signature, but should I achieve my first copper link, I would either visit the library in the Red Keep or the libraries in Sunspear, Storm’s End, or Casterly Rock to make those comparative studies.

This is a text that could, with additional study, comparison, and incorporation, offer counterpoints to the authoritative accounts of Gyldayn and Yandel...

Alleras stopped again. What he wanted to say was one thing. But what he wanted to say would make Perestan choke.

...which are scanty at best in their descriptions of the women surrounding the Targaryen queens.

And which queens should be made example of for this exercise? Not the Dance of the Dragons; Perestan’s disgust for all things related to Rhaenyra Targaryen was legend. And nothing too recent either, though the accounts that Alleras had first read upon discovering the book were those final pages. The Queen's handwriting was shaky and barely legible, some words blotted with what may have been tears. Two of Princess Elia's ladies-in-waiting had managed to flee King's Landing before the Lannisters arrived, and while Queen Rhaella had not known their fates, Alleras recognised one of them as a well-known singer in Sunspear. The third, Ashara Dayne, was dead, having thrown herself from the tallest tower at the castle of Starfall. But these were perilous days, and reminders of the last war seemed less than advisable.

I propose to present, in addition to the prefatory material, the account of Queen Myriah Martell, wife to Daeron II, the completion of which would earn one copper link.

Perestan would likely hate that she was Dornish, but there were no scandals to report of Myriah Martell. Of course there weren’t, Alleras knew, because any Dornishwoman married to the King on the Iron Throne would know better, as would her ladies-in-waiting.

He allowed himself, for a moment, to think of the sisters and cousins he did not have, who knew all too well that outside the borders of Dorne, all Dornishwomen had to be on their guard. As far as anyone other than Archmaester Marwyn was concerned, that family belonged to someone else, and in time, that person would return. For now, however, Alleras the Sphinx had a manuscript to study.

***

PREFACE

In honour of my royal sister, Queen Rhaenys, lately slain in Dorne to the great heaviness of myself and the king our brother, I, Queen Visenya do hereby consecrate this book, Florilegia Dracarya, or A Flowering of Dragons. Herein will be contained the names, histories, and deeds of all the ladies-in-waiting who serve at the pleasure of the Queen (or Queens) on the Iron Throne. A King has his Kingsguard, and their deeds shall be recorded in the White Book; it is only fitting that those who serve, obey, and protect their queen are similarly placed in remembrance.

In this the tenth year of the reign of Aegon, First of his Name, of House Targaryen, King of the Andals and the First Men, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros.

Chapter Text

There was once a girl named Sarella Sand, whose father was a prince of Dorne, but who had been born on the tilting, swaying deck of the Feathered Kiss, captained by her mother, the finest sailor she knew. She grew up in the Water Gardens just outside the city of Sunspear, in the midst of a brood of half-sisters. Her father, it seemed, was destined to sire only girls, but unlike other men, Prince Oberyn found no shame in that.

There was no man in the world like her father. Her mother said so, and her mother’s ship had put into port in nearly every city in the known world. On this morning, however, the Feathered Kiss had unexpectedly put in at Oldtown, and her captain had sent word to the Quill & Tankard tavern—known to be frequented by Alleras the Sphinx, among others—that they would sail again on the next evening tide.

“There’s room for you, Sphinx,” said Ankhet, the first mate, broad-shouldered and big-bellied, with a hook for a left hand. It was the souvenir of a battle with corsairs off the coast of Zamettar before Alleras had even been born; according to Ankhet, Marwyn the Mage had treated his wound and supervised the forging of the hook himself. “A short voyage, to Fair Isle and Lannisport, then back south. We’ll stop here again for supplies and you can return to your dust and your books.” That last accompanied by the snort of a man who could not imagine staying away from the open sea by choice.

Alleras almost refused, but paused for a moment. “How long does she mean to stay?”

“Less than a week in Fair Isle, perhaps a fortnight in Lannisport.”

It would mean submitting a revision to the conclave. If Alleras moved quickly, it could be done before the morning tide. Just a small change. Perestan might not even notice. Not bloody likely. He’ll notice. But he might well prefer the change. If it meant he didn’t need to read about Dornishwomen, he thought to himself bitterly.

“Well?” prompted Ankhet. “Tides wait for no one.”

“I’ll come,” said Alleras.

“Captain’ll be pleased to hear it. We’ll see you at first light. Don’t be late or we’ll make you swim.”

After he left, Alleras stared into the half-empty mug of cider, composing the revision request. Circumstances allow me to visit the archives of House Farman in Faircastle. I therefore beg leave to revise my prior proposal thusly: “In addition to the prefatory material, the accounts concerning Rhaena Targaryen, wife to Aegon the Uncrowned and Black Bride of Maegor the Cruel, known later in life as Queen in the West.”

He sent a silent apology to the shade of Queen Myriah. There would be time enough. This may turn out to be my life’s work.

***

When Sarella had announced to her father that she wished to study at the Citadel, she had expected him to laugh. Most fathers would have done so. Some would have beaten the presumption out of her. Others might have given her to the Faith or arranged a marriage to some doddering fool, muzzling her forever. Not Oberyn Martell. He had, many years earlier, forged a handful of links in the Citadel himself, and one of his oldest friends had remained there long afterward, rising in the ranks and now an Archmaester. Marwyn had the face and loyalty of a bulldog, and, after barking questions at Sarella for a full half hour—each of which she answered, if not always as quickly as she might have hoped—gave a brief grunt of approval.

Later that day, her father left her in their rented rooms while he went off with Archmaester Marwyn. Sarella was moving his empty trunk out of her way when she heard the unmistakeable sound of something shifting inside. Frowning, she looked down at the floor of the trunk, made all of dark rosewood. She brushed her fingers across the smooth surface, realising as she did so that it was noticeably higher than her other hand, which rested on the floor. A secret compartment.

She knelt in front of the trunk and ran both of her hands along its interior, looking for a catch, a switch, some sort of opening. Tucked into one of the corners was a strip of black ribbon. As she tugged on it, the bottom of the trunk tilted upward. The space beneath contained several leather cases, a sandsilk scarf, and a small, thick book with a three-headed red dragon on the front cover.

“I should have known it would be the book,” said her father from behind her. Sarella’s heart jumped into her throat and her fingers tightened on the binding. “Nymeria chose the scarf, Tyene the cases of poison.”

“Obara?”

“Obara never bothered to open the trunk.” He sounded amused, but he was also the Red Viper of Dorne, and his amusements could be deadly. “Look at me, Sarella.”

She obeyed. He was smiling at her, and she tried to relax. “Was this a test?”

He nodded. “You can open it if you want.”

“What is it?”

“See for yourself.”

The first page was written in old-fashioned script, and she had to squint to make out the letters. “This is High Valyrian.”

“Can you read it?”

“I...yes. I think?” Maester Caelotte had grudgingly allowed Tyene and Sarella to join Prince Trystane in his lessons, and Sarella had quickly outstripped his main pupil. “In honour of my royal sister Queen Rhaenys...” She trailed off, staring at her father. “Where did you find this?”

“I didn’t. It was given into my keeping many years ago.”

She thought at the time that he was referring to his sister, who had married the last Targaryen prince and been foully murdered for it. But Alleras the Sphinx could see things Sarella Sand could not. The final entries postdated the death of Princess Elia Martell, so Prince Oberyn could only have had the book from Queen Rhaella Targaryen herself, or someone closely connected with her. At least that was Alleras’ theory, if he could match the handwriting to an autograph of the queen’s. And if it had happened after the war, which it must have, based on the final entries…

It was treason against the Iron Throne.

But that concerned Sarella Sand, daughter of Oberyn Martell of Dorne. Alleras the Sphinx, acolyte of the Citadel, had no such worries, and a text to translate.

***

[Editor’s Note: The text begins with the ladies-in-waiting who served Queen Rhaenys Targaryen and, like the White Book of the Kingsguard, offers an account of each lady, detailing which queens she served and how long; any notable deeds, talents, or accomplishments; what involvement (if any) she had in greater events during her time in court; her family; and the manner of her death. These are typically written by the chief lady-in-waiting, while the chief lady’s own account is written by her successor. It has, in instances of particular note, been written by the queen she served. For each entry, the lady-in-waiting’s name is inked in the centre of the page, sometimes in red and sometimes in black, presumably based on where the entry was written. Above it is her coat of arms, the sigils of the House into which she was born, and, if applicable, that into which she married. Given that some ladies-in-waiting served more than one queen, or that queens often outlived the kings they married, there are occasional blank pages or pages given over to sketches and other marginalia that correspond to points at which the throne changed hands.

I will begin with what may seem an unusual choice: the chief lady-in-waiting and confidante to Princess Rhaena Targaryen, Lady Alayne Royce. This is one of several instances in which the Florilegia indicates a side in a dynastic conflict, or at least does so by omission. Following the entry for Geraldine Estermont, who served Queen Alyssa Velaryon in her final years, are two blank leaves, followed by a half-written entry for a Flora Hightower and two missing leaves that were clearly removed with a knife. The text then resumes with the entry for Alayne Royce, the first of seven ladies-in-waiting recorded for Princess Rhaena Targaryen. Princess Rhaena was only briefly Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, when she was forced to become one of Maegor the Cruel’s Black Brides, but the odd textual arrangements and missing leaves imply that the book fell into the hands of those who supported the claim of Aegon the Uncrowned over that of Maegor the Cruel, and that it did so relatively early in Maegor’s reign. Not enough leaves are missing to account for the ladies who served those unfortunate queens, many of whom followed their royal mistresses to their unquiet graves, but there are two pages given over before the entry for Lucinda Tully to list all of Maegor’s queens (aside from Princess Rhaena) and the ladies who served them. It is a touching, though not entirely surprising, tribute from Good Queen Alysanne.

I have compared the accounts of Princess Rhaena’s ladies with records in the archives of Faircastle, Lannisport, and Casterly Rock, and it is my hope to do the same at Dragonstone, should such an opportunity present itself. Any discrepancies or contradictions are noted within the text.

Alayne Royce’s page fits the pattern described above; however, since she never married, the sigil of House Royce stands alone, taking up almost a third of the page. Indeed, only one amongst the ladies-in-waiting to Princess Rhaena saw fit to marry, and as will be seen in her entry, that marriage may not have been by choice. Based on comparisons with autograph papers in the archives at Lannisport and Faircastle,[1] I can state with certainty that Lady Alayne wrote her own entry until the year 50 A.C., when Princess Rhaena and her household left Fair Isle to take up residence in Dragonstone. The final paragraph, relating the end of Lady Alayne’s life, is in the hand of Princess Rhaena herself.

Also noteworthy are some peculiarities in dating. The first two paragraphs of Alayne Royce’s entry and the entirety of Melony Piper’s entry were written no later than 43 A.C., the year of Melony Piper’s death. This is clear from the quality of the ink, which improves dramatically in the rest of Alayne Royce’s entry and in the entries for Princess Rhaena’s other ladies. All of the illuminated sigils, with the exception of Larissa and Lianna Velaryon, can be conclusively dated to between 48 and 50 A.C., as they were were almost certainly commissioned from the same studio in Lannisport. The two Velaryon sigils were likely produced in King’s Landing under the supervision of Queen Alysanne, after the book left Princess Rhaena’s possession. It is my contention that Princess Rhaena gave up the book to her sister the Queen after the tragic events of 54 A.C. and the deaths of most of her ladies-in-waiting at the hands of her husband Lord Androw Farman.]

LADY ALAYNE OF HOUSE ROYCE

Served Rhaena Targaryen, daughter of Aenys Tagaryen, first of his Name, and Queen Alyssa Velaryon; Queen[2] to Aegon the Uncrowned; Black Bride to Maegor the Cruel; Queen of the West; Queen of the East

Born at Runestone in the year 22 after the Conquest. Daughter of Lord Allard Royce and Lady Jeyne Mooton. At age 16, late in the year 38 after the Conquest, she joined the household of Princess Rhaena Targaryen.

Remained by Queen Rhaena’s side during the usurpation of Maegor the Cruel, even as others turned traitor.[3] Held newborn Princess Rhaella in the sept at Casterly Rock when she and her twin sister Princess Aerea were presented to the court of Lord Lyman Lannister. Aided Queen Rhaena and King Aegon in rescuing their dragons from King’s Landing. Arranged safe passage for Princesses Rhaella and Aerea, after the battle below the Gods Eye and the deaths of Aegon the Uncrowned and Lady Melony Piper, and for Queen Rhaena first to Casterly Rock, and thence to Fair Isle, where they were granted sanctuary by Lord Marq Farman.

Accompanied Queen Rhaena back to the Red Keep when she was forced to become one of Maegor the Cruel’s three Black Brides. Escaped on dragonback to Storm’s End with Queen Rhaena to support the claim of Prince Jaehaerys. Took charge of Queen Rhaena’s household[4] upon the accession of King Jaehaerys to the Iron Throne and accompanied the queen to Faircastle, where she married Lord Androw Farman in the year of grace 49 after the Conquest.

[Editor’s note: The following paragraph is written in the hand of Princess Rhaena Targaryen, confirmed against several samples of her writing in the archives at Faircastle and Lannisport, including the register of her marriage to Lord Androw Farman in 49 A.C.]

It is with a heavy heart that I, Rhaena of House Targaryen, record the death of a lady most faithful and true, loyal and loving to me and mine. On this day, the last moon’s turn of the year 54 since the Conquest, died Lady Alayne of House Royce, foully murdered by Lord Androw Farman. May the Mother have mercy upon her, and may the Father avenge her beyond the grave as I have avenged her on these shores.

[Editor’s Note: The entry for Melony Piper is written in the hand of Alayne Royce and is in the same ink as the first two paragraphs of Lady Alayne’s own entry, indicating that the two were written at the same time, which I have roughly dated to year 43 A.C., after the battle below the Gods’ Eye where Lady Melony perished alongside Prince Aegon, called ‘The Uncrowned’.]

LADY MELONY OF HOUSE PIPER

Served Rhaena Targaryen, daughter of Aenys Tagaryen, first of his Name, and Queen Alyssa Velaryon; Queen to Aegon the Uncrowned; Black Bride to Maegor the Cruel; Queen of the West; Queen of the East

Born at Pinkmaiden Castle in the year 24 after the Conquest. Daughter of Lord Edwyn Piper and Lady Cerelle Tully. Joined the household of Princess Rhaena Targaryen in the year 24 after the Conquest, where she distinguished herself with the longbow in tourney and combat alike. Remained loyal to Princess Rhaena through the vicissitudes of the Faith and the usurpation of Maegor the Cruel. Perished in battle against the forces of Maegor the Cruel and Balerion the Black Dread below the Gods Eye in the year 43 after the Conquest.

[1] Many samples of Alayne Royce’s handwriting survive in both of these archives, as the lady kept meticulous records.

[2] All of the entries for Rhaena Targaryen’s ladies refer to her as ‘Queen’. They also omit her final title, Lady of Harrenhal, which further supports the theory that Princess Rhaena relinquished the book to Queen Alysanne in or shortly after the events of 54 A.C.

[3] This phrase is crossed out in ink that corresponds to the subsequent paragraph.

[4] Confirmed by Olyvar Hill in his True Accounting of the Life, Misdeeds, and Death of Lord Androw Farman. This text survives in one autograph manuscript in the archive at Faircastle, where it was presented to Lord Franklyn Farman on the chronicler’s death. Hill’s account mentions Lady Alayne in passing, but offers more information on Samantha Stokeworth and, unsurprisingly, Elissa Farman, whose brother he served as secretary.

***

“Gods,” muttered Alleras, after what had to be the hundredth page of Lady Alayne Royce’s cramped, yet perfectly legible, handwriting. Clever as he was, figures had never been his strength, but there was a story coming to life between those columns of dates, numbers, and scribbled notes. Eight yards of purple velvet for Q.R. Bowstrings for M.P. Sixteen sheep delivered every three days for Dreamfyre. Sets of initials appeared and disappeared, echoing the final lines of the accounts in Florilegia and the histories Alleras knew long before coming to the Citadel. Melony Piper, dead in battle against Maegor the Cruel. Samantha Stokeworth, who rejoined the princess’ ladies after her ill-fated marriage to her uncle Maegor, and who had, if the Florilegia was to be believed, aided Princess Rhaena’s escape from the Red Keep before his death. A symbol Alleras eventually identified as an entwined A and R for Princess Rhaena’s twin daughters, before their paths forked. A.F. and E.F. for Androw and Elissa Farman, who would bring so much tragedy to the princess. “Did she do anything else?”

“Are those the Royce archives?” asked the maester stationed at the far end of the room. “Aye, she’s…something, for certain.”

“Did she spend all her time keeping accounts?”

“Gods, no,” chuckled the maester. “If you want to know what she did get up to, there’s the account that Androw Farman’s secretary kept. He escaped from Dragonstone after his master threw himself from the Painted Chamber window, and when he died, he left the manuscript for Lord Franklyn, so that he might know the truth of his brother’s death, and all that had come before.”

The Feathered Kiss cast off at first light the next morning, and it was high noon. Alleras made a note to find more candles the next time he left to use the privy. “May I see it?”

Alleras decided quickly that Olyvar Hill had been wasted as a secretary for a dull-witted second son who had never even bothered to learn how to read. Today my most esteemed Lord Androw wed Princess Rhaena of House Targaryen, sister to King Jaehaerys I, and for my life, I cannot conceive of what my lady sees in him. Unless it is nothing at all. If Princess Rhaena desires a paper husband, my lord suits her admirably. Nor can I blame her—the dubious joys of marital bliss with Maegor the Cruel would sour even the lustiest maid, and that was after he murdered her first husband.

Maegor the Cruel had committed innumerable sins, but the one the Faith had credited for his demise was when he wed his three Black Brides. One of those brides had been his niece, Princess Rhaena, already the mother of twin girls from her first marriage. Small wonder the princess had fled back to the Westerlands after Maegor’s death—it was the one place where she had known true peace and safety.

Indeed, it was not for poor Androw that the princess lingered here in Faircastle, but for the Lady Elissa, whose veins run not with blood but saltwater. Both of their hearts belong to her, but she belongs only to the sea, and all who seek her perish upon the rocks.

“I’d always thought that about Princess Rhaena. Who could blame her?” Alleras asked. At Gareth’s expression, he added, “You’re talking about Elissa Farman. She’s a legend. Sailors call on her for luck even now.”

Gareth looked a bit shamefaced. “I’m from Stoney Sept. I didn’t know anything about the sea until the Citadel sent me here three years ago. But I do know that Smike, who was maester here at the time, corroborates that story about her and Princess Rhaena.”

After a few minutes of searching through carefully labelled boxes of letters and scrolls, Gareth pulled out what appeared to be a crumpled piece of parchment but which, after slow and oddly mesmerising unfolding, transformed into a letter written in cipher. He had translated it, revealing a memorandum from Maester Smike of Faircastle to Archmaester Nennius at the Citadel.

Lord Farman’s younger son, a most unpromising young man, has somehow made a most promising marriage to none other than our new king’s elder sister, Rhaena of House Targaryen. As you may know, Her Grace came here some six years past, following the death of her royal husband in battle against the late King Maegor. Lord Farman risked all our lives to offer her sanctuary—and she, to her credit, gave herself up to the late king to spare us his wrath—but now he funds her lavish entertainments and the monies we are sent from King’s Landing barely cover her expenses. Married to Lord Androw she may be, but the one she keeps at her side is Lady Elissa. I have heard her ladies say that the queen found her true love on Fair Isle, not with Androw, but with her.

Alleras glanced back and forth between Smike’s letter and Olyvar’s manuscript. “Gyldayn must have come here. There’s too much, and it’s too specific. Lines of dialogue copied word for word. It explains where all that detail came from. Unless there’s some other source just like it.”

“Not here,” replied Maester Gareth. “And Olyvar is a mere secretary, a scribe. I can’t see an Archmaester crediting him. So he mentions Smike, and letters of Lord Marq and Lord Franklyn, which are kept at the top of that shelf there,” he pointed across the room, “and poor Olyvar disappears, save for us.”

“How sad,” murmured Alleras, handing back the letter. “I should get back to work. I’m told the tides wait for neither man nor page.”

“Best of luck to you. I’ll have some more candles brought, and something to eat.”

Alleras smiled. “Thank you.”

“You’re the best company I’ve had in months,” Gareth replied as he left the room. With one last chuckle, Alleras returned to parchment, faded ink, and the sharp wit of Olyvar Hill.