Chapter Text
Words are wind, they say. But what if the wind never truly leaves? Some words and sentences just linger. Staying in the back, mute in the light, whispering in the dark, shouting in times of change and restlessness.
Ellana became a Septa because her uncle who honoured the last wish of her mother showed her the way of scribes and bookmaking.
It was once a humble family trade but it did not last. Too many daughters and no sons to inherit a hit and miss business with a shop bloating with scrolls, maps and above all books. The nobles had their maesters and the merchants in this corner of the seven kingdoms had no constant interest in new books. Sometimes they bought paper and ink, and once every year they might want a book restored or a map renewed, but it was not enough to feed six people.
Her aunt who disfavoured this unseemly business for women tried to marry her off as soon as her moonblood started.
Her uncle, tired of defying his wife for years and yearning for peace under his roof told her:
“If you will not marry then servitude is your lot. But you can choose between servitude with or without books. Your mind is as sharp as your mother’s and your hunger for knowledge would be an asset if you were born a man.
So the way of a septa can be yours, pious servitude with no coin but books and stories. It may be years before you are trusted enough to read without them fearing for your soul and your faith but it can be done. With your fast and neat handwriting and your eye for details they would be mad to let you slip between their fingers. Don’t misunderstand me, your life will
be hard and you will have to bow to a whole new set of rules. If you fail, there is no place for you here. I taught you a trade because I promised my sister and I paid for it with the constant nagging of your aunt and the mocking of the neighbours.
Use it, forget it, I don’t care. Live your life but leave me out of it.”
The joy of finally being the master of her own fate did not last very long. The simple reality every lowborn woman has to face did not spare Ellana.
Not enough money or reputation to open a trade and not enough hanging between her legs to get decent paid work or try to become a maester.
So Ellana travelled to the motherhouse at Maidenpool and began her life as a novice.
She found safety in the strict schedule and hard work. Her back hurt after all day working either cleaning or sewing or tending the gardens, her hands cracked and bled washing infinite mountains of laundry.
Getting chastised and honoured with more work for oversleeping and condemned to weeks in silence for speaking out of turn and asking again and again for access to the library. Some Septas were very suspicious that a lowborn could easily read and argued that she was still too young and impressionable for stories without a pious morale at the end.
After five years she took her vows but was still not permitted in the library on her own.
Ellana stayed patient and one day luck was on her side.
A young novice lost her breakfast on her way to clean the windows in the library and Ellana was told to take over.
Washing the first two windows in record time to finally browse the non-religious corner, she became aware of a copy table at the south corner windows seemingly abandoned.
An open tome at the top, the writings readable but the corner nibbled from mice. Under it sheets of parchment, the first paragraph written out, quill and ink on the right side, a mirrored candle to the left.
It has been 8 years at this point since she laid eyes on some of the tools of her past trade.
Taking a deep breath and wiping her hands dry she stepped closer.
As her own act of rebellion, she told no one that she could write too. They saw her draw with ease flowers and patterns to stitch and weave, but no one asked whether she could do more than draw. And why should they? Life was predictable as a Septa in Maidenpool. Pilgrims all year even in winter although in smaller numbers. Even the Blackfyre Rebellion could not disturb the cycle of praying, cleaning, feeding and tending to the pilgrims for very long.
Ellana looked around, making sure she was alone, and sat down. Her right hand gently touched the inkpot and the quill.
It had been such a long time.
Each lesson with her mother started with the same two sentences she had to write over and over until she was satisfied. At first, it was the only thing she wrote for many lessons:
”You may have tangible wealth untold.
Caskets of jewels and coffers of gold.
Richer than I you can never be — I had a mother who read to me.”
With every stroke and each line, her mother’s voice echoed through time.
Just as she promised her in their last real talk.
She was nine the year she died.
“Can you draw too?” a deep voice behind Ellana asked.
Startled and snapping the quill she jumped to her feet spinning around.
“Fucking hells”
A maester stood in front of her, white hair combed over a bald spot on his head, the lines in his face deepening his kind smile.
“I apologise, I shouldn’t have…” Ellana stuttered with an already reddening face.
“Cursed?” he grinned, taking her writing from the desk.
“No need to apologise, please. It was an honest reaction to being startled, and I heard worse, even out of the mouth of a Septa.”
“Well, that is interesting to know; nonetheless, I should really go back to work. Septa Letinnia will skin me alive or worse if she catches me dawdling. I apologise again and thank you for indulging me.”
Fleeing back to the northern wing of the library and chastising herself under her breath, Ellana was not aware that the maester followed, her poem in one hand, the forgotten cloth in the other.
“I suspect you’ll need your rag.”
“Seven dirty ballsacks, what the…”
The maester held the cloth in her direction with barely contained laughter.
“A cursing Septa who writes dornish poetry. Ah, how good it is to be among someone who truly reads to live a different life than your own.”
That was one of the most important sentences in Ellana's life, years later, this would be the moment she would choose to mark the beginning of everything.
If her sleeping curiosity had not been poked awake by the mere possibility of reading something, anything that was not about or by the Seven.
If she had ignored the pang of longing for an honest exchange about her mother’s favourite book and would not have lit up at the realisation that there was humour not reprimand in his voice.
If she had just bleated some lines about the superiority of the Seven and how no barbaric nonsense ever could match the beauty of the scripture, the Maester would have forgotten and she may have found true contentment in her future.
Maester Justin was 30 years her senior and took her under his wing in the library after slowly coaxing out Ellana's talent with quill and ink and marvelling at her light handed ease to capture the beauty of fading illustrations bringing them back with coal, ink, and pigment.
The Citadel had denied him again and again an apprentice to help with restoring and copying books in the library of Maidenpool. After talking to LordMooton and convincing him that a well stocked library with books to actually read and not sneeze out of existence could be a matter of prestige especially so with a scholar king. And it would cost him almost nothing, a tenth of what scribes would want for this kind of work. Coincidentally he knew someone cheap to have.
Convincing Head Septa Letinnia was harder. Especially hard after Ellana was made to learn the ways of the midwives to honour all parts of her vow and failed spectacularly.
After Justin found out her weak spot and relieved the Head Septa from painful corns on her feet she agreed to let Ellana help him on two conditions. Ellana’s other duties would not suffer and she would only copy religious texts and pictures.
Maester Justin had readily agreed and told Ellana after, that the Head Septa never specified which religion.
Two more years filled with copying, long wry talks with Maester Justin about books they found and copied in the library.
Finding unexpected treasures like Northern Poetry and Fairy Tales From The Nine Free Cities deepened Ellana's thirst for different unknown stories.
Slowly she had risen sufficiently through the visible and invisible ranks to put in a request for transfer to Oldtown. The Great Library was still her true goal.
A request normally only Septas with an impeccable record could make or especially high born novices for political reasons.
It was denied.
“We feel that as of now although you have exemplary knowledge of the faith and its writings, experience in copying and restoring books and scriptures with speed and accuracy and you did not shame yourself with working and praying with the poor.
But we will not transfer you to Oldtown.
Septa Mellaras very honest letter regarding your questionable services as a midwife in training leaves you with two choices.
Either you join the Silent Sisters and learn their ways or you join Septa Barbra at Dragonstone as a governess in learning. We still deem your talent with a quill as useful and it would be an honour for someone of your birth to educate future Lords and Ladies about n their letters and first spiritual questions.
Please let us know how you would like to proceed.”
—-
The autumn storms had come to stay and left everything wet and shivering in anticipation of winter.
Ellana's journey from Maidenpool to Duskendale held no surprises after escorting many pilgrims in either way through the years but she could not shake the feeling that she had made a mistake. She should have stayed in Maidenpool letting the years pass by, never wanting more than was already given to her.
The first grey already was in her hair, a few more, and the cloister at Quiet Isle may find her useful.
“Bloody Justin and his stories of the Great Library.” Ellana thought with more affection for the old man than heat.
Their goodbye was tearful but full of promises to write. He told her of Maester Edd at Dragonstone, a study friend from his time as a novice, whom he warned to expect the Septa sooner or later in the library.
Ellana was hoping for easy going from Duskendale to Dragonstone but she walked off the ship with the taste of vomit on her tongue four days later.
The crossing was rough and the storm followed them all the way to the island. She prayed with some of the crew and rued all the stories she read about the Iron Islander and their Drowned God.
Standing on the shore was Septa Barbra, she assumed, in a white cloak, hood deep in her face.
“This will not do.” were her first words after Ellana bowed respectfully before her.
“Do my sisters in Maidenpool not learn how to bow properly? You will be in the presence of high royalty, first impressions are the most important and you have to instill that in your future wards.”
Biting her tongue Ellana courtesied again.
“Please forgive me Septa Barbra, I meant no disrespect, I was not aware I would be starting my training right this moment and did not see any royal family members so..”
“That will be enough. I see what Septa Mellaras meant.”, her blue eyes got colder and colder with every word. “She warned me of your impertinent tongue but yours is not the first I tamed. You will see. Is this your only robe?”
“At the moment yes, sister. My other one is unpresentable because of the storm.”
“You will not need them. Kay, you will find her in the kitchen, will show you your room and robes fitting for Dragon Stone. We wear our hair short and our hood is up. See that you look presentable for Dinner. We shall eat with Prince Matarys and Maester Edd in the Solar.”
She inclined her head forward. “I look forward to it. Thank you, Septa Barbra, for welcoming and teaching me.”
Eyes narrowing the tall woman turned around and climbed the winding steps to the castle, a parcel in her hand.
Ellana sighed deeply, took her things, and followed her through the rain.
—-
Wary after her welcome on the shore, Ellana stepped into the kitchen and looked around.
Servants moved around her, opening boxes the ship brought. A giant, curled iron dragon dominated the room, pots cooking on its nostrils, meat and sides resting on the thick neck, staying warm.
A kitchen boy fed the flames in the dragon's belly, grimacing at the heat.
Two girls, their arms deep in water cleaning pots and chatting, animated.
A short, round woman stepped before her with hair so red it seemed orange in the light. She grinned warmly at Ellana, handing her a steaming mug.
“I am Kay, I was told to expect you, welcome to Dragonstone, Septa! I’ll show you your room at the Sept.”
“Seven Blessings to you, I am Septa Ellana and so very, very thankful for hot tea.”
“I bet, the weather is dreadful and it won’t get better any time soon, or so my husband says.”
Kay led her outside again but it was a much shorter and drier walk than before.
Everywhere were dragons in all sizes and wyrms following them with their stony eyes, as if judging everyone beneath them. Ellana had never seen anything like it and tried not to get too distracted.
The young servant did not seem to mind the awed silence from the Septa and chattered on.
“Are you hungry? Dinner should be ready after sundown, but I could get you some bread or wine in the meantime; you still look a little peaky. You are older than the last girl who learned with Septa Barbra. Did you take your vows late?”
Ellana smiled at Kay and felt a little bit more at ease. “Kind of you to ask but no thank you, the tea is enough. I was four and twenty, and I took some time to find a path to Maidenpool, the Faith does not care how old you are as long as you live by the vows.
How long have you been working here?”
The women crossed the yard and behind an arch shaped like another dragon stood the Sept of Dragon Stone.
“My mother brought me when I was little and Princess Jenna brought her after she wed Prince Baelor. After she died my mother went back to the Marches to my sister. I stayed and fell in love with my husband and his big, bad… fish.” Stopping and looking at Ellana rueful she said:” Begging your pardons, Septa, my tongue got the better of me.”
“No offence taken, I heard worse. I read a story once, from the Marches, warning girls with wicked tongues of men from islands and their big, bad… fish.” Ellana deadpanned.
Cackling loudly Kay opened the door to Ellana's new room. “Sounds like something I should have known, maybe it would have spared my mother some headaches. But on the other hand, maybe not, I really like fish.” she laughed.
“If you need something, anything, you’ll find me most of the time in the kitchens, I’ll let you unpack and prepare for dinner.”
Ellana thanked her for the warm welcome and lit some candles.
She had some preparations and not much time.