The door to the meeting room opened, and Racheal stepped in, her face as cold as ice. She was wearing a blue gown, with a cape attached to the collar bellowing behind her, grazing the floor as she walked.
Her hands were crossed behind her back, as her footsteps drummed against the floor, her sharp gaze up ahead.
The members of the small council turned their heads simultaneously towards the direction of the sound of her footsteps.
They exchanged uneasy glances; none had anticipated Racheal's sudden appearance at their meeting.
Then came the moment that drew every gaze taut with disbelief.
Racheal pulled out the chair that once belonged to the Grand Maester, the chair no one had touched since his dismissal.
She settled herself gracefully, her hands folding on top of the table as though nothing were amiss.
"I apologize for being late; I had some pending issues to attend to."
She said, then raised her chin, then scanned everyone's faces one by one.
She crossed her legs gracefully beneath the table, letting the silence stretch just long enough to allow them to process what was happening.
Her emerald-green eyes swept slowly across the faces before her—each councillor shrinking slightly under that piercing gaze.
She lingered on some longer than others: the Lord of Whispers, Josiah, who fidgeted with the ring on his finger;
The new Master of Coins, Drigo, who avoided her eyes entirely; and the Captain of the Guard, whose armor creaked as he shifted uneasily.
Then her gaze found him.
Ragaleon, seated at the far end of the table, silent and unreadable.
The sunlight streaming through the high as he'd window caught on the rim of his crown, glinting faintly like the warning edge of a blade.
Racheal's voice softened.
"I trust my presence does not… inconvenience the council."
She said, tapping her fingers lightly on the table.
At once, every head turned toward the direction Ragaleon was seated. The sudden movement rippled through the room, robes whispering, quills dropping, and papers stilled midair.
All eyes sought him, pleading silently for an explanation that might make sense of what they had just witnessed.
Ragaleon sat still, his expression unreadable, though a storm brewed behind his calm exterior.
His hand rested on the armrest of his chair, the gold ring on his finger catching the light as his knuckles tightened around it. He knew this moment would come, though perhaps not so soon, and not like this.
Racheal remained regal and unmoving, her emerald eyes gliding from one council member to another before settling, calmly, deliberately, on Ragaleon.
"My apologies, my lord," she said, her voice smooth as silk, yet her tone carried an undertone of quiet command.
"I can understand my arrival came as a surprise. But I was made to understand that this meeting could not proceed without me."
Her words sent another wave of confusion through the room.
The Master of Laws, Priest Tailbon, tried to hide the sly grin plastered on his lips. He seemed to have understood the handwriting on the walls.
While others exchanged bewildered glances, he stroked his beard, enjoying the scene unfolding.
Finally, the Lord of Whispers, Josiah, gathered the courage to ask, "Your Majesty… forgive me, but… since when does Her Grace sit at the council table?"
Ragaleon's gaze darkened. For a heartbeat, no one said a word. Then he spoke up, calmly.
"Since this morning," he answered nonchalantly, as though it was a normal thing for a woman to suddenly be involved in matters.
"The Grand Maester has been relieved of his duties. Racheal will take his place at this council from henceforth."
The declaration hit the room like a clap of thunder.
Ragaleon slowed his gaze to ravage. around the table, meeting each man's gaze one after the other, his voice steady but edged with warning.
"She will be accorded every measure of respect due to her station."
He paused, then continued, his tone deepening.
"Let it be known that she is not to be judged through the narrow lens of tradition, nor dismissed because she is a woman. Her counsel will be heard, as will yours. We are not governed by superstition or pride, but by reason and by duty to this realm."
Silence followed, thick and uneasy.
Only Racheal held his gaze. A flicker of emotion, something unreadable, crossed her face. Perhaps gratitude.
His points were lucid enough.
She was visibly satisfied by his words.
Drigo had long since zoned out the moment he saw Racheal take her seat at the table.
"Welcome, your grace."
Priest Tailbon took the initiative to break the tense silence looming in the air.
Racheal nodded curtly to his remark. She could understand the situation and did not want to worsen it by talking unnecessarily.
"Shall we proceed?"
She said, leaning forward and then crossing both her hands on the table.
Some moments later.
Racheal stepped out of the room; her face was mundane, but her composure was immeasurable. She made her way to her chamber; immediately she got in, and her strict countenance fell and was now replaced with that of relief.
Rosa, her personal maid, was busy folding some clothes when her mistress stepped in.
"My lady, how was it?"
She asked, dropping the dress she was about to fold up on the bed.
"They hate me, all of them."
Rachael concluded placidly before making her way to a chair in the room. She settled on the chair before massaging her temples.
"How so?"
Rosa became intrigued; she grabbed a bottle of rose oil from the dressing table and then made her way to where Racheal was seated.
"I couldn't see it on their faces."
Racheal retorted frantically.
"They didn't hide their disgust, especially that mini dwarf Drigo. They only kept their mouths shut because of the authority that was bestowed upon me by his majesty."
She complained bluntly before reclining on the chair fully.
The maid loosened the last pin in Racheal's hair, and her silky hair came tumbling down her back in waves.
With gentle hands, the maid poured some of the oil on her hand, warming it between her palms before pressing them softly into her mistress's scalp.
She massaged the scalp in slow, deliberate circles.
The scent of coconut filled the chamber, sweet and soothing.
Racheal sighed, her shoulders easing as the maid's fingers moved with practiced care, gliding through strands, kneading gently at the roots.
"They do not have a choice; they will have to get used to seeing your face at the council meetings."
Rosa whispered, her eyes fixed on what she was doing.
Oil glistened along the length of Racheal's hair, her eyes were closed, and her breathing pace was steady; after hours at the meeting, she finally felt relaxed.
"Apparently, Decreash is a kingdom whose political affairs have been handled by men for centuries. They have built a wall of barriers against women to shut them off from making important decisions concerning the realms."
Racheal felt bitter just hearing herself say those words. She firmly believed in equality.
"The king wanted this."
"That is what I fear, Rosa. I do not know his intention; I cannot fathom out what he was thinking when he made such a crucial decision."
"You can step down from the position if you feel uncomfortable, my lady."
Rosa was not sure if it was the right thing to say.
"And give the council members the satisfaction of seeing the first woman seated at the table quit? Never!
Rachael retorted, unfazed.
"This is a rare opportunity, a step towards having the council members on my side. They can only resent me; for all I care, I will be making history."
She concluded, trying to reassure herself, there was always a silver lining to every problem, right?
Maybe her case won't be any different.
....
The corridor was hushed, lit only by the flicker of torches that painted gold across the stone walls.
Racheal walked slowly, her long gown
trailing against the floor. In her arms, her son, Amilek, leaned heavily against her, his eyes half-closed, his steps unsteady.
"Be careful, my darling," she murmured, steadying him as his knees nearly gave way.
Her hand cupped the back of his head, guiding him close to her shoulder.
They passed the guards, who bowed low, their armor clinking softly, yet she did not glance at them. Her whole world at that moment was the child in her arms, his warmth, his slow breaths, and the soft mumbles that came from his drowsy lips.
When they reached the door of his chamber, she pushed it open gently. The room was already lit by the low glow of a hearth fire.
She led him to his bed, lifted the covers, and eased him down. Amilek stirred once, muttering, his fingers clutching her sleeve before letting go.
She bent low, brushed his hair aside, and kissed his forehead.
Standing there for a long moment, she watched him until his breathing grew deep before turning away.
She made her way out of the chamber, closing the door softly.
Just as her hand slipped away from the doorknob, she heard the faint steps of someone approaching.
She turned towards the direction of the sound, squinting her eyes as she tried to catch a glimpse of the figure seemingly trailing from afar.
Soon enough, she realized it was Micah.
Micah's face was deeply carved with worry. When she caught sight of Racheal, she made her way to her, trying to look as calm as possible.
"Amilek… I left him in the field for just a moment, and by the time I was back, he was gone…"
"He is asleep."
Rachael interrupted.
Micah was a bit stunned, but she sighed in profound relief, placing her hand on her chest as if to calm her racing pulse.
"That is good to hear."
Micah muttered before raising her gaze.
"Since you love him so much, it won't be a wonder that you would like children too."
Racheal's voice had a hint of coldness as she rubbed her protruded stomach, as if to mock Micah.
Micah sidestepped her rude comment and then went ahead to say,
"I heard that you were given a position in the small council; that is commendable."
"Quite enviable too, don't you think?"
Racheal feigned an interested look, but it soon faltered.
"With greater responsibility comes greater expectations; the king must have trusted you a lot to have given you such a rare position that concerns the realms. You are right is is quite, enviable."
Micah remarked before lowering her gaze; she was about to turn around to leave when Racheal said something.
"Do you read it?"
She questioned, and Micah creased her brows as she turned her attention to Racheal.
"Did you say something?"
She wanted to be sure that she wasn't just hearing things.
"The books. Nowadays you are always seen with one book or the other. Judging by the background you came from, I can only wonder if you understand a single word written on the books."
Racheal said, narrowing her eyes at the book in Micah's hand.
A faint color crept into Micah's cheeks, though she tried to hide it behind a polite nod.
"Perhaps," she said softly. "Though I've always believed wisdom comes more from the heart than from books."
She said, embarrassed, she had always looked up to Racheal and saw her as a good role model, but this moment changed everything.
"Perhaps?"
Racheal arched her brows in a questioning manner.
"My background has nothing to do with my literacy, Racheal."
Micah felt her blood begin to boil with anger, but the aura emitting from Racheal was enough to suppress even the boldness queen. Racheal stood tall, her shadow towering over Micah.
"Did I say anything offensive?"
Racheal thought carefully before asking that question, but she was astounded when Micah ignored her and then turned around to leave.
"For what it is worth, I am grateful for the bond you have made with Amilek. He was always so lonely and dull. It is a relief he has found someone he can relate with."
Racheal said from where she was standing, Micah was still walking away, but she paused. She turned around to glare at Racheal.
"Is that how you see me? Some kind of caretaker?"
Racheal smiled wearily, then yawned.
"The night is far spent; I need some rest, and you should get some too."
Those were her final words before she took her leave. Micah could only watch as Racheal walked away, making her feel inferior.
She felt insulted… used.
By the time she bolted back from the shock of the embarrassing moment she had just encountered. Micah's knees were trembling, begging to take some rest.
She felt her limbs go numb as she tightened her grip on the book in her hand before finally walking away.