The Citadel
Author's notes: Thank you, everyone, for your patience. I know it's been a while since I last posted a chapter, and I just want to apologize for the long hiatus you've had to put up with. Hopefully with this new year, you guys can start looking forward to regular updates again.
Chapter 36
The Citadel
Their horses cleared the hill and at last they were greeted with the sight of their goal. Right before Robb and Hermione's eyes was the city of Oldtown. After weeks of travel and one detour they beheld the city in all its beautiful splendor.
Oldtown was not like White Harbor nor even King's Landing. For one, the smell was far more pleasant, lacking the fish odor of White Harbor and the fumes of sewage from King's Landing. Quite the contrary, the city was as fragrant and flowery as a perfumed dowager and both Hermione and Robb were pleased with every breath they took while approaching its stone walls. While King's Landing was more populated, Oldtown was far bigger with many small islands making up much of the metropolitan. It was made of thick grey stone with many bridges connecting the scattered islands. And above it all, standing as its crown jewel was the glorious Hightower, the seat of House Hightower.
Contrary to popular belief, the Hightower was not the Citadel, though many people seemed to believe that to be the case. The Hightower was a massive, stepped tower with a beacon on top to guide ships into port, or just a glorified lighthouse, Hermione surmised. The color of the beacon's fire was believed to be changeable, as green flame was used to call the banners for House Hightower. The labyrinthine square fortress of unadorned black stone at the castle's foundation contained gloomy halls, vaults, and chambers. The Hightower was said to contain a high hall, and the top of the tower contained the apartments of the tower lord. There was also rumored to be deep vaults that were located underground, possibly meant for escape tunnels or archives. The Hightower was the tallest structure in the Seven Kingdoms, even higher than the seven-hundred-foot Wall, and it was the tallest structure in the known world. The people of Oldtown were able to tell the time of day by the tower's shadow, and some claimed that the Wall can be seen from its top, though none had been up there in many years.
Hermione could admit its abundant beauty, but compared to the muggle structures that she knew of from her own world, it was only as tall as a modest skyscraper.
What she was really looking for was the Citadel, which was the second largest structure in the city and was located on the end of the Honeywine river. The first thing one noticed about the Citadel were its lesser towers and domes that connected to arching stone bridges. Houses and stalls sat on the bridges and an endless flock of ravens flew to a building on one of the islands. That was where Hermione assumed the ravenry was kept. They weren't visible from the distance that Hermione and Robb were at, but from what Maester Luwin had told her and what she had read about, the gates of the building were supposed to be flanked by a pair of tall green sphinxes with the bodies of lions, the wings of eagles and the tails of serpents. One would have the face of a man, and the other a woman.
She was eager to see it all.
The remaining journey to the oldest city in the realm had been peaceful and, dare she say, quite enjoyable, too. A part of her was sad to see its conclusion and with that, the return home of her dear traveling companion. But now it was reaching its end, and her goal was at last in sight. As she stared at the wide beautiful city and its crown jewel which stretched to the sky like a bright beacon, she felt a grand mixture of emotions, biggest among them was excitement, triumph, longing, and sorrow. Excitement seemed to prevail over all of them, though.
They had done it. They had made it here.
"I've got to say, I kind of miss the purple gown," Robb remarked, glancing at the light green shift she wore most often these days.
Hermione rested a hand on her hip cheekily. "You didn't seem to miss it very much last night."
He chuckled, going a little red with the reminder of their nightly exploits. Since leaving the Tarly company they had started spending their nights together.
It had happened while Hermione had been lying in her cot with Grey Wind curled on the floor in her room. She had rolled over the past days' events and recalled the anger she felt at learning what the nobles of Westeros thought of her. Whore. That's what they were saying. In all honesty, she didn't really care what they thought of her, she already believed their society was backwards for more reasons than one, but it brought to light some different perspectives that she hadn't considered before.
She despised the belief that a lady's worth was based heavily on her virginity. It felt so incredibly foolish. Did her arms and legs and mind and ideas not matter so long as her maidenhead was intact? She stewed more and more on it and only heard the stupidness in such reasoning. Soon she surmised that it was actually in the interest of the patriarchy to keep girls ignorant to the activities of sex. If they knew how bad men actually were at what they valued so much, then women may not have wanted to stay with their foolish spouses. They'd be allowed to experiment and try different things, have different experiences and understand more about what they liked and who worked best for them.
Hermione didn't stop being Hermione nor did her brilliance end after she was no longer a maiden. It was true that the witch had always been a bit of a prude, but this mindset and this purity culture made her want to openly rebel against it. To prove them all wrong somehow.
It made her think of that strange burst of lust that had hit her after their triumph in the Bad Apple's quarters against his lone guard. If Irie hadn't been there to need help, what would have transpired? In that moment, Hermione felt a swell of clarity suddenly hit her. If the whole realm already thought she was some kind of whore, then fine! She'd just embrace it. What was even wrong with being a whore. Most men here were after all. They had mistresses and visited brothels as generously as they visited dinner tables even with a wife and children at home. In a shaky moment of recklessness, she had gone to see Robb. Outside the flap leading to his room though, she had lost her nerve.
It wasn't right to use Robb like that. He meant so much more to her than some gateway to get what she wanted or prove some point with. And they would be going their separate ways soon, so it would be beyond wrong to play with his emotions like that, especially when she knew his feelings for her were genuine and valid. Better to give a meaningless bit of flesh to someone who meant significantly less to her. Perhaps she would find someone in Oldtown for that. Just because she was mad at the nobles of Westeros for their foolishness, didn't mean she needed to be just as foolish as they were. She needed to let a cooler head prevail and Robb was too special to her to use him like that.
But just as she was about to return to her room, the canvas had pulled back and the man himself stood there, in his nightclothes, expectantly wondering what she was doing there.
She had tried to explain that she was just on her way back to her room. Then they were kissing and all her rational thoughts flew away. Then she was pushing him and he was pulling her and suddenly their clothes were off and everything happened so quickly.
It had hurt and it felt clumsy in that moment, it being their first time for both of them, but after that, something changed inside of them. She thought she would feel guiltier about giving up her virginity like that, rebellion to the patriarchy be damned. Deep down, if she bothered to be honest with herself, she really had wanted her first time to be special. But... that had been special. After all, as soon as the deed was done, Hermione immediately felt zero regret with her decision. In fact, she wasn't as exhausted as she first expected to be. She felt... powerful. Charged. Robb in turn felt exceedingly wired that night and they had spent the remaining evening exploring more of each other's bodies, improving with each time they went, until they both passed out sometime around dawn, satisfied and basking in the afterglow.
The following morning, they declared almost in unison how refreshed they felt. To their collective surprise they emerged from the tent to find that vivid purple flowers surrounded them and were quite sure that they hadn't been there the day before. Hermione wasn't totally sure what that meant but rationalized that perhaps they had just been dormant. She distracted herself by brewing some contraceptive tea for both of them and they continued on their journey. As an added precaution, being the organizer that she was, Hermione kept a calendar to keep better track of her monthly bleeding, just so she wouldn't be taken off guard if she was somehow late. The last thing they needed was a baby to complicate things, especially right when she was about to start school. Because wouldn't that be the biggest cliche ever? Dropping out of school and giving up her dreams just because she had carelessly gotten pregnant. Well, she may have been enjoying her new funbox but she wasn't about to let her rampant teenage hormones be the cause of her downfall.
Soon her regular bleeding arrived, confirming that her contraception was indeed working. After that, they continued to spend each proceeding night together without any regret, and they enjoyed the other's company right until they at last reached their destination.
They approached the city gates and integrated into the crowd that was passing through. Activity was everywhere. Oldtown was a cobble street labyrinth of wynds, crisscrossing alleys, narrow crookback streets, and markets. On a day when they had more energy, they would have gladly liked to go sight-seeing. As it were, they were all rather tired: humans, horses, and little direwolf pup alike. So, their first order of business was to settle into an inn. They had had a long journey and after half a day of riding, the two travelers and their animals were eager to get settled. Upon recommendation, they were directed to an inn called the Quill and Tankard, an establishment that was rumored to be as old as the city itself. Six hundred years to be exact. Both Robb and Hermione were impressed by its standing business and checked into the establishment with optimism.
They followed an old plank bridge to the famous inn, which was located on the same island as the Citadel. It was a tall, timbered building that leaned toward the south and had a common room and a torchlit terrace, that imitated the hightower over the city on the outside. There was a massive apple tree by the river which provided fruit for the fearsomely strong cider that the inn was renowned for. It was known that novices from the Citadel frequented the establishment to drink and Hermione wondered if they would run into any during their stay.
Upon entering, they found the hall slowing with the end of the lunch hour, though there were still one or two stragglers that feasted on succulent meaty dishes. They approached the reception counter, and the innkeeper was pleased to find them a room and stable for their horses. He even offered a private kennel for the pup that accompanied them, seemingly not even bothered by the fact it was a direwolf. Perhaps the inn had seen all manner of animal companions over the centuries. The travelers accepted the offer, paying too for a meaty bone to be delivered to him if the cooks had one available. He promised one would be sent to him and called for a wench to take them to their room. With the accommodations that the inn readily provided, Hermione could understand how a place like this would manage to stay in business for six hundred years.
With check-in completed, they were led to their room. It was a large one, with a balcony overlooking a breathtaking view of the city. Hermione rushed forward leaning against the banister of the balcony as she looked out at the city, sky, and sea. It made her wonder what it looked like in the evening, with the setting sun and the lights of all the candles dancing in the windows. All of this made Hermione feel especially giddy, almost like their impending separation from one another was not on the horizon. It all felt more like they were on holiday or a honeymoon. The thought had her blushing.
Soon enough, she felt Robb stand beside her, curling his arm across her waist as it touched the banister on her other side.
"So... I guess, this is it," Hermione surmised, propping herself with her arms over the wood.
"I guess so," Robb concurred. They stood in silence for a while, ears and eyes open to the city activity before them. Hermione became enormously interested in a group of fishermen as they were mending a net on one of the docks. Soon she would see the Arch Maester of Magic and she would get her questions answered once and for all.
Eventually though, Robb interrupted her train of thought. "I was thinking, though. Perhaps, if--or when--the maesters accept you, maybe it wouldn't be too outrageous for me to take some classes myself."
Hermione turned to him, her eyes going big. "You would want to stay here?"
"Maybe just for a while," he explained. "Oldtown has many opportunities. Surely there's considerable benefit for a Northern Warden to further his education in the capitol of knowledge. The North is very large, after all, but there aren't many people and compared to the other kingdoms, it's not very prosperous. Perhaps, it could help the region to establish some new industries and trade routes. This could be a very valuable opportunity for us, and as its heir..."
He wasn't given the chance to finish. In that moment, Hermione's lips crashed against his, silencing his thoughts. While she loved him for his ferocity and warrior's spirit, there was nothing she found more attractive than a man who valued knowledge and she was eager enough to show him just how sexy that was to her.
The following day was dedicated to touring the city of Oldtown as they had done in King's Landing. They visited the markets and the shops, ate shellfish on the steps of the sept, fed the birds breadcrumbs, played fetch with Grey Wind in a grassy little park, listened and watched a group of players recount the tale of Princess Nymeria, and danced in a square that was maintained by four restaurants that each catered to a different southern and eastern countries' cuisine. It was said that the square's evenings were always filled with music and that night they hosted a band that played upbeat Myrish tunes. They visited a restaurant called Qarth's Castle, that served them exotic dishes that reminded Hermione of Indian food and was exceptionally spicy. Robb had made a bit of a fool of himself after accepting a challenge from a cocky Dornishman to eat a strange red pepper, proclaiming that as a Northman, his blood flowed with ice and would keep him from succumbing to the fire of the silly little pepper. His arrogance cost him several tall glasses of milk and an end to their adventure.
The following day, Hermione woke early before the sun had even risen and went to the Citadel on her own. Meanwhile, Robb was spending the day recovering from the devil pepper and then would be exploring options for those potential industries he could introduce to the North.
Things were slow this time of day, which she was grateful for. She approached the gates and, as expected, there were the two sphinxes, as massive and green as solid boulders of jade and guarding the Citadel like profound, loyal sentries. In that moment, they seemed so lifelike that Hermione partially expected one of them to ask her a riddle and have her answer it correctly before she was allowed to walk through. They didn't, of course, but as she was passing between them there was a moment when her mind became hazy and a flash of something crossed her vision.
A fur-lined red face with three glowing golden eyes, popped into her vision and then was gone.
Hermione staggered, blinking harshly in the summer sun as she shook her head to try and clear it. What was that? And why did it feel like she had seen those eyes before?
She breathed, doing her best to regain her composure. When she looked up though, she was shocked to see that the sphinxes' heads had turned towards her, or... had they always been pointed that way? She could have sworn they had been looking outwards at distant points upon the horizon, barely giving any notice to the ants that entered their house of knowledge. Now they were turned to surmise this passing visitor, looking upon her with blank expressions that now seemed judgmental from her perspective.
She shivered but found her steel and marched through the open gates, leaving the sphinxes to do their duty.
Just inside the gates of the Citadel lied the Scribe's Hearth. Here, the citizens of Oldtown came to hire scribes, usually acolytes, to write and read letters for them. The scribes waited in open stalls for their custom. Other stalls situated at the Scribe's Hearth included those where books and maps were bought and sold. It was mostly empty at this time of morning, though there was the beginnings of activity as young men in grey robes flitted about to find their office with stacks of books, scrolls, and parchment filling their arms.
The path divided at a statue of King Daeron I Targaryen atop a tall stone horse; the king's sword was pointed toward Dorne. There was also had a monument of King Jaehaerys I Targaryen at the other end right before the reception hall. As Hermione passed it, she read the plinth. "He bound the land together, and made of seven kingdoms, one."
She already knew plenty about Jaehaerys and surmised he had been one of the more decent and successful kings of the Targaryen line. She hadn't ever really thought about it before but he may have been her favorite for his frequent use of wisdom that allowed for such a long and plentiful reign. She looked back up at him and smiled, offering her compliments for his success in English, "Good for you, your majesty."
After bestowing her pleasantries to the monument, Hermione continued on her way, entering the reception hall. It was a long stone hallway with a high ceiling and led to a cul-de-sac sort of room where a large desk lined with books, scrolls, parchment, quills and ink stood at the end. It was manned by a lone maester that was somewhere in his late twenties to early thirties.
As she approached, she saw that the man was bent over a large tome while he held a bulky device fitted with lenses to his eyes. Hermione watched him for a moment, studying the way he leaned over the small, printed words and struggled to read them while using his hand to trace his progress down the page. That couldn’t have been a comfortable position.
“You ought to attach those lenses to arms that can rest on your ears,” Hermione informed. The maester jolted up, surprised by her silent approach and the loud tone she had used to get his attention. He straightened and blinked through the lenses, before moving them away from his face to observe her better. He was farsighted then, Hermione surmised.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Earpieces,” she explained, pointing at his poor excuse for glasses. Then she pulled out her journal and began sketching on one of the blank pages. “Your glasses. If you designed a frame for them that rests more on your ears and nose, you won’t have to hold them that way while you read. You ought to also use a stand to prop your books up, so you don't develop a hunch.” Then she produced her simplified design to him. He blinked at it and then at her with the utmost confusion.
“And who are you?”
“Hermione Granger,” she held her hand out to him for a shake. He stared at it as if it were some alien from another planet, which she supposed wasn’t so far from the truth. He didn’t take it, so Hermione merely pulled it back and returned it to where she gripped the shoulder strap of her bag.
“I have letters of recommendation from Lord Stark and the Maester Luwin, as well as a letter of acceptance from the Citadel’s Arch Maester.”
His brow lowered in further confusion. “You are a woman.”
“Well spotted,” she said sarcastically.
“What in the world brings you here?”
“Well, being the Citadel of all knowledge, wouldn’t you assume I’m here to study? Specifically, the ancient magics and whatever writings there are about them.”
His brow lowered in confusion as he gaped at her, shaken with her boldness. “Women are not allowed,” he declared.
“Is that so? Then I suppose they won’t want to know how I can do this.” She reached forward and took hold of his clay goblet and dropped it on the ground where it shattered to pieces. The man looked outraged before Hermione pulled out her wand and uttered her repairo charm over it. On command, the pieces gathered themselves back up, leaving the cup's condition to be as good as new. "Or perhaps this?" Then with the cup still in her hands, she swished and flicked her wand, and it began to float in the air until it was hovering far above them. With the way his eyes nearly bulged out of his head, she could tell that he definitely didn’t need glasses to see that. “Or perhaps this?” And lastly, she waved her wand in a wide circle and transformed the goblet into a red and brown squirrel right in front of him. She let it land on his desk, where the newly formed creature moved about and observed the oddities surrounding it. The maester sat there, staring, mouth agape, unable to form the words it took to put the thousands of thoughts clamoring through his head into a coherent sentence.
Hermione didn’t wait for him to try though. “I guess I’ll go then. No women after all.” And she turned on her heel and began to leave out the way she came.
“Wait, wait, wait!” She smiled to hear the man chase after her, knocking his knee painfully into a stack of books that tumbled to the floor in his haste to stop her. He promised to the air that he'd clean that up later. Hiding her smile, Hermione turned and gave him a blasé expression as he spoke quickly and rubbed at the place he had hurt himself. “You will wait while I inform the Arch Maester of your arrival.”
“Oh, but I thought women were not allowed,” she noted with feigned innocence.
“An exception can be made.”
“May I have access to the library while I wait?”
“I… er…” It seemed while he was eager to keep her from leaving, he was not so eager to allow her entrance into their sacred hall of books.
“If you are going to have me wait, the price of my patience is to see the library. Otherwise, I can leave this moment, and you’ll never hear from me again.” Of course she wasn't going to do that, but it was better to establish some authority now, rather than let him think he could freely command her.
He seemed to think long and hard about that statement and likely weighed the option of letting her through verses otherwise. Eventually he relented, though with restrictions. “You may stay in the section of the library nearest the door. I will come find you when I have returned.”
She nodded and followed him down a long corridor. At the end was the library. He told her to remain in the first three rows so he’d be able to find her when he came back. Hermione watched him leave before she turned about and perused the titles. Excitement poured in her every nerve as she reached out to them. In one of these were the answers she craved for returning home, if only she could just find it.
Her fingers skimmed the spines, practically feeling the written words tickle her skin. She walked the length of a massive shelf that led her towards a great opening. She stood gawking into a cavernous library that justifiably conveyed just why this place was known to be the capitol of all knowledge in the known world. Not even the library in Hogwarts was this endless. There were floors and floors of shelves that were lined with thousands upon thousands of books that rose both above and below her, reaching into a darkness that was illuminated by specks of torchlights. In the middle of the opening, hung a golden globe-like sphere that Hermione predicted was meant to represent their planet.
Next to this impressive collection, Hermione felt almost insignificant.