Chapter Text
The High Septon examined the altar cloth. His eyebrows rose, but he said nothing.
“It’s a good likeness really.” Tyene said, admiring. “Sister Lorielle got the nose just right, and she matched the eye color very well, as well as the color of the sword.”
Sister Lorielle, who was just nineteen and had just taken vows as a Septa, blushed very prettily. She was fair and black-haired, petite and lovely. She blushed quite a lot when she looked at Tyene.
“It is not traditional.” Paercy said, slowly. “To portray the Warrior as a woman.”
“No.” Lorielle said, softly. “But the Seven are all aspects of One, are they not? One who contains both male and female.”
“Well supported by the writings, yes.” Paercy agreed, still staring at the image of the Warrior with the face of the Queen.
“She is clearly favored of the Warrior. I thought…well.” Lorielle looked down.
“Go on and tell him, dear.” Tyene prompted, gently. “He doesn’t bite.”
“I was at morning services.” The girl kept looking at her feet, shy. “And you were speaking of how the gods speak to us through the world around us, but many people do not know how to listen.”
“I remember it.” Paercifal nodded.
“And as you were saying it, the sun shone just so through the image of the Warrior in the window, and I thought suddenly of how you also said that the gods send the people who are needed to the place where they should be. And then I thought of how since the Queen came, people have meat in their pots, and the war stopped. I know she is not of the faith, but that does not mean they cannot have a hand on her still.”
“It’s written many places that they can use even those who do not believe to carry out their will.” Paercy rubbed his chin. “That is true.”
“And then I thought that, well, perhaps the Warrior is trying to use her to right some wrong. So I prayed about it, and as I prayed I thought of Tyene, and of course she is Dornish, and she speaks of her sisters taking up arms. So I spoke to her.”
“I told her of Nymeria.” Tyene said. “And the many warrior maids who sailed with her to escape the dragons, and who settled in Dorne. We follow their example yet; women can be and are strong of arm and can and do fight if they are inclined to it. It’s seen as strange here in the north, I know, but you’ve had your share of warrior maids north of Dorne as well.”
“Many even!” Lorielle said. “I consulted the records. There’s more than I expected. And I prayed again, and it came to me that the Warrior is trying to speak, and has been trying to speak. If his daughters find the inclination within themselves to take up arms, they are no less able to seek his blessing than men. I did some more reading on the Andals. It’s only fragmentary scraps, but it seems the tradition of fighting being seen as a thing of men began before the Seven walked among them.”
It was, Tyene thought in delight, the sort of thing that would have been deemed heretical and likely gotten the girl stoned publicly not so long ago. It was also, of course, completely brilliant so far as she was concerned.
“I came to the conclusion.” The girl was speaking faster now. “That such was an old custom, not of the Seven, and that the Warrior is trying to right it, and perhaps has been for a very long time, but no one heard him. We are mortals, after all, and fallible. We can err in our understanding of what the gods wish of us. So I. Well. I made this.”
“I think that we should use it at the altar of the Warrior.” Tyene folded her hands in her lap and smiled.
“You think she is right?”
It doesn’t matter. Tyene thought. If she spun this out of nothing or if she is right. What she said out loud was “I do. Perhaps it is my Dornish blood speaking, but there is no reason a woman should not be able to fight. War comes to hearths as well as battlefields, High Septon. Should not a mother be able to fight at need to defend her children? Is it not taught that a mother defending her children is as fierce as the Warrior himself?”
If that makes it easier for Andals to swallow, then so be it. She watched that settle. Paercy looked thoughtful, and then turned to Lorielle again.
“You can support this?” He asked. “These records of traditions dating back to before the Andals knew the seven?”
“Yes.” She said, still looking down. “There are some records in the oldest of texts, and the Maesters have preserved more.”
“I put her in touch with the Maester of the Red Keep.” Tyene said. “He sent off to his brothers for copies of the appropriate records. I doubt they know what it was for, but he is still working to research for his link of history, so I do not think they thought much of anything about it at all.”
“If they pertain to the beginnings of the Faith they should be transcribed and preserved in the annals of the Faith as well.” Paercy said, a little absently. “Or even just of the Andals in the time before the gods came among them. Please put it together and bring it all to me so that I can look it over.” He rubbed his chin again; he did that often when he was thinking hard. “I will have to look into it more. Leave this with me.” He gestured to the altar cloth.
Lorielle’s shoulders fell a little. “Yes, your holiness.”
“If I cannot find anything to discredit you, though.” Paercy’s eyebrows were drawing together. He was not looking at either of them now but staring at the tapestry of the Seven hung on the wall of his private study. “Then…well. This is, you understand, a very big thing.”
“I was just trying to listen.” Lorielle said.
“And that may count for a lot.” The High Septon said, mostly to himself. More loudly. “I will have to pray on it as well, and consult your sources. If you are correct in what they say, then it may very well be that you are right.”
Lorielle started and looked up at last. She had not really believed that she would be listened to; she had confided her thoughts to Tyene as they sat and worked on the embroidery of a new set of robes that would fit the slighter frame of the new High Septon, worked in the very soft linen that he preferred.
Tyene had told her that she should make the altar cloth, and that she would support her. And the girl, with the fervor of someone who truly believed, had done so.
“You’re not going to cast me out?” She breathed.
“What?” Paercifal startled. “Why would I…”
“For heresy!”
“...if it can be supported with the holy texts, it is not heresy.” Paercy huffed. “As you said; we are mortals, and fallible. We strive to better understand, and if the records and texts lead us to a new understanding that has been overlooked then it is our holy duty to see it spread! It would be a blight in the eyes of the Seven to ignore them, and close our hearts and ears when they try and speak to us.”
“See, dear?” Tyene smiled. She was, she suspected, going to have to kill a few people when this got out, but her stocks of very particular materials were well laid in and ready at need. “I told you.”
“If it seems that you are right, then this will go on the altar of the Warrior, at least for a time so that people might think on this and come to understand what it means. But not before then.” Paercy deftly folded the cloth up and very carefully tucked it into a desk drawer.
Once Lorielle had gone on a frantic fluttering cloud of excitement to compile her notes, Tyene smiled. She kept it sweet, but behind the gentle curve of her smile it was the grin of a shark.
“You believe her?” Paercy asked.
“I looked over her notes. I could find no fault in them, but of course I am not as knowledgeable as yourself.”
“And you think…”
“I think she truly believes that the Warrior spoke.” Tyene smoothed her skirts. “It is not my place to decide otherwise.”
“No. It’s mine.” Paercy absently fiddled with a pen, spinning it about between two fingers. “I will have to see her sources.”
And if you cannot find fault in them. Tyene thought. You will support her, because for you the gods speak through parchment and ink. And maybe Andal women can finally start to cast off some of their chains, and catch up with Dorne. “You see why I thought I should bring her directly to you, then? I did not think the more senior Septas would understand.”
“I do. You did rightly; they are pious and good women, but I’m beginning to see that many would rather rest on what they think is correct than try to support it from the records.” He nodded slightly, an approving little motion. “If nothing else, she went about it properly.”
“Yes, I thought so as well.” Tyene smiled a little more widely. “That is all, your Holiness. I’ve duties to see to, and of course you are busy.”
“Oh, very. Still. Thank you for bringing this to me, Septa.”
Tyene inclined her head respectfully and took her leave. She did not laugh out loud. She schooled her face to sweet impassivity and went to see to tending the statues in the sept.
Three weeks later, on the red marble altar of the Warrior, there was laid an altar cloth of finest white linen, embroidered with the Warrior, but the Warrior with the face of the Queen, crowned with the steel and ruby crown of the conqueror.