Katrina Kaif Behind The Scenes For Kalyan Jewellers

High School Musical 2 (2007)

★

truthfully, the grace of the evening found herself entirely zealous each time she looked upon the facial features of the court seer: there was something youthful and glowy about her features, as though she had remained untouched by the hardships of life and it showed on her face. it were only natural she would know nothing of the hardships of life, considering she had no real responsibility; what could she know of the weight of duty? of how it truly caused the world to go around, rather than the planets or whatever else she found herself calling upon?

"do i truly need to remind you?" any who knew ruqaiyah closely would know she was entirely a skeptic; she did not believe in astrology of any form, including birth charts - there was no motivation for this conversation apart from keeping herself entertained. "you serve us, zahra sand." ruqaiyah spoke, her voice light and antagonising; almost as though she were singing along to the sound of the musical instruments. her attire was pretty, a certain golden glow to her; it made her hate her even more.

"most would take this position seriously, considering it brought you out of whatever squalor you called home." the same way a cat played with a mouse before devouring it; there was no hint of guilt or remorse in her eyes as she looked toward zahra sand, she thought not of the rock nor the sound of an innocent girl's head smashing against it in the heat of the dunes beyond the borders of the tor. she had always been dismissive and mean toward zahra, and to change it would only come across as suspicious - besides, that happened years ago.

"no. i want to see what you can do." ruqaiyah sat down, extending her hands out to the woman.

as the dance concluded zahra flashed a grin to the young lord who had accompanied her, though she had no clue what his name was at this moment in time, she already decided she quite liked him, and would enjoy conversing with him more this evening. of course, just as quickly as the thought fluttered into her mind, the glass shattered with the sound of clapping from the lady ruqaiyah dayne herself observing nearby.

round eyes looked from the lady, back to her partner for a moment as the exited the dance floor, she gave a subtle nod of thanks, and hoped perhaps he could see her intentions to find him again when she were done, though she had a feeling she would be occupied for some time, and so she let the idea of reconciling with the other fade from mind as she offered ru a sweet smile, zahra's more genuine than the lady's before her, but she could see right through the other woman's facade. it were hardly being disguised.

zahra had known the other for quite some time, of course not in any personal way. she recalled the ladies callous nature, in the tor she were entirely unapproachable, so she thought, and yet she had recalled how farah seemed to grow on her, at least so it seemed, before that fateful day.

the dancer allowed ruqaiyah to lead her away, though she would not have fought it, anyways. despite her court-appointed position, despite her status in dorne not being seen as lowly as most of the continent, she knew house dayne's ideaologies were different, the westerlands views were different, even if she wanted to protest, she had no ground here. and yet, she would not have, even if she did. for that was simply the nature of zahra sand, to let the winds take her and face the next moment in her life in stride.

"i apologize, had i known you were in search of me, i would not have taken to the dance floor." she replied, simply, feeling a flush of frustration prickling at her cheeks and eyes, hopefully hidden by the mask upon her face. zahra gestured to a seating area, just out of the great hall, a quieter place for conversations to be heard "is there something you are concerned about?"

★

ruqaiyah flicked the cigarette in her hand, sending a thin trail of ash spiralling into the breeze. her amethyst eyes, gleaming even in the dim balcony light, locked onto safeerah with an intensity that made the other woman shift ever so slightly in how ruqaiyah viewed her - less her friend, but rather, an individual that needed to be reminded of a few things. the mention of her brother had cause a thread to snap, there was no difference between uttering those words and striking her cleanly across her porcelain face.

"don't bring up my brother." she echoed, her voice low and biting, lacking any warmth; she found herself holding onto the smoke, and for a split moment, she was half tempted to bring the heated end of it upon safeerah's skin for making such a remark the thought flickered out of existence in her brain, and she moved her feet from where she was sat to rest upon the table between them. "my brother is alive, thankfully. do not jinx it with your desperate need to prove a point." how dare she? did she secretly wish for some wicked thing to befall bash? all because rashid had been foolish enough to get himself killed?

"how quaint of you to think i'd consider that luck. i'm saying you are in a position you'll thrive in." she tapped the stone balustrade with her nails, one perfectly polished pink tip after another. the words came quicker now, sharper, though ruqaiyah didn’t seem to notice the heat rising in her own tone. ruqaiyah tilted her head, studying safeerah as if seeing her for the first time. "you know, it’s funny. you say you’ll do what’s best, yet you bristle at every suggestion. is it your conviction you’re so protective of, or your pride?" she let the question hang in the air, unspoken venom laced through her words - the mention of baashir had all but riled her up, and now she found herself speaking with no regard or care for what the consequences were.

"and yet here we are. you, turning that sharp little wit of yours on me, as if i’m the enemy." her lips curved into a smile, a thin, brittle thing. "don’t pretend you haven’t wondered, cousin, whether it’s better to be the adviser than the ruler. i’d offer you the trade if i could, though i’m not sure you’d last a month at starfall. no... you’d hate it, safeerah. all those expectations. no time to dance in the rain here." her comments were scathing as she watched her smoke on the ground, she extended her heel to crush it beneath her. her gaze softened for a fleeting moment, though the steel in her voice did not. "but don’t worry. i won’t ‘advise’ you anymore on the tolands. you’ve made it clear you don’t need my help."

the shift in conversation did little to cool her temper, though she allowed herself a short, dry laugh. now they were arguing about nothing. "and love," she scoffed, as though the very word was a tasteless joke. "you think i don’t know what you want, safeerah? a ‘real connection,’ a ‘true partner,’" she mimicked, her voice lilting mockingly. "you don’t need to say it—I can see it written all over your face."

safeerah had more patience with ruqaiyah generally, even though they were as different as night and day. but she felt hurt by how her closest friend reacted so coldly. it bothered her immensely that qaiyah thought she should be lucky. today her impatience was on full display. “oh yeah, lucky me. maybe baashir will end up being brutally murdered, and you can have starfall, and be just as lucky.” the sarcasm usually came out when she was agitated, and especially with her cousin. she was capable of giving back whenever ruqaiyah decided to be less than kind. perhaps that was why their friendship worked despite it all.

she grew serious as she stared at her cousin. “i do not need your advice on how to deal with the tolands, cousin. i will do what i think is best, and we will speak no more of it.” she did not want to hear anything more about aditya toland from anyone else, not even her closest friend. saf already had to fight against her own anger, she did not need the anger of everyone else on top of it. it was her choice now, and she would follow the path that rashid had originally laid. she wondered if every ruling lady or lord had to deal with seemingly everyone around them questioning their decisions. safeerah hated it because she could often feel so sure in her convictions, only to end up lying awake at night questioning them because someone else did.

now she was in a sour mood, so she turned her head to look out of the open window. “of course, i cannot marry an artist from the streets, i am not stupid.” that was not even close to what she had meant. saf understood her future husband would be of noble birth, but she disagreed with ruqaiyah about what she required of a husband. she did not need someone who wanted to rule with an iron first, she needed someone who understood the principles of house jordayne. “i just-” but the words died in her throat as she sighed. but she just what? she wanted love. she wanted a real connection, a true partner in life. she looked at ruqaiyah again, and she knew that the last thing she wanted was what her friend was so focused on getting. she did not want to sit and wonder if her betrothed even liked her, if he still wanted to marry her. she could say that to ru, but she thought it would be cruel. despite being annoyed with her cousin and friend, she could not deal that particular blow. she did not enjoy cruelty. safeerah never finished her sentence, knowing whatever she said would end up sounding weak in the ears of the dayne.

saf could almost have guessed what name would come out of ruqaiyah's mouth as she spoke of someone who knew how to rule, who could keep her safe. she also knew her friend would never suggest a lord from a smaller house. “armaan.” she repeated slowly. the match itself was not strange. the daynes, jordaynes and yronwoods had an understanding, an alliance so to speak, but armaan's first marriage was a problem in safeerah's eyes. “you do realise that if i married armaan, his children would rule kingsgrave, yronwood and the tor? that stretch of land will be a fifth of dorne combined, if not more.” that would grant armaan power that could rival every other house in dorne. safeerah had grown up with armaan, she knew what kind of man he was, for better or worse. he was already powerful and rich, and giving his heirs more land was asking for trouble. not for her, of course, she trusted the yronwoods as much as she trusted the daynes even if they disagreed on some things. she had seen the friendship between armaan and rashid. but if she were to marry him, it should raise the eyebrow of everyone else in dorne. “there will be plenty of houses who will oppose it.”

★

his suggestions were light in nature, though a part of her began to wonder why it was he truly was not in the sept with the majority of the rest of the court of sunspear: perhaps there was no major reason and she was simply overthinking, or perhaps there really was something more to it. "i have no issue with onlookers, ravi martell. i merely did not want to randomly put myself in situations where you are occupied."

"perhaps." ruqaiyah commented, pulling her pale chiffon dupata up to remain wrapped around her, rather than being carried away by the soft tides of the waves. "if there is little else for us to do." she continued, a slightly double meaning in her words; not meant to be sexual, even if it did slightly sound it. rather, she meant her words literally - if there was nothing else for them to do in a place like sunspear, which was highly unlikely.

still, she was inwardly thankful to know that he did not seem the overly religious sort, for if she were to think about it, there had been limited conversations they had indulged in about the gods. about life after death itself yes, but the gods themselves; not as much. "it looks well to outside eyes, if that brings you any reassurance. very much handled."

closing the distance between them as the waves ran up to their knees, she merely looked toward the sun of dorne: a title she heard mors martell often used, however never truly understood how that worked. was the sun not supposed to be a source of strength, and of light? he had stepped further into the light of control, not regent yet, however it was beginning to circle whether he would soon take up regency of his niece - the little girl, who now ruled the world. no longer the heir, but the princess herself.

"mother wanted to know in order for the gurus to match our birth charts." the gods were something she was not bothered with, astrology she was not entirely sure of - but her family were another matter entirely. it was important for charts to match in regards to wedded unions in dorne, and a conflicting chart could lead to a troublesome marriage. her mother always cited armaan yronwood's marriage to joy manwoody to prove her point; and sometimes, ruqaiyah possibly even believed it.

"you know what they're like." she continued, trying to elevate mention of such things. why did she feel like she was doing that anyway?

the glimmering ocean just over the way had always provided a place a solitude for the second prince of house martell, now the eldest, with the weight of legacy upon his shoulders. ravi would credit his time in starfall and his rigorous training as a knight to be able to hold such weight, but in truth so much more of his handling matters was simply taking the time he needed to meditate and contemplate. there were little moments in ravi's life where a decision did not have to be made in an instant, and allowed him time to reflect. of course, this did not include any decision of battle, or war, those things, he considered, to be far different circumstances.

a breeze ran itself through unruly dark hair, and he could hear his mother's voice bidding him to find some way to tame it. in his youth he tended to keep it shorter to avoid such matters entirely, but he far preferred it the way it currently was. he recalled how mors was able to manage his own hair, and a pange of anger, guilty, frustration, sadness, seeped into his chest - how a simple thought could bring him back to the memory of his brother, whom as far as he could recall he had a somewhat tumultuous relationship with.

the septs were filled with the patrons of dorne who had flocked to sunspear, sealing their alliances to the martell's, proving that despite the great losses, and not so great loss, the kingdom was not fractured, but unbroken it remained. that, in itself, seemed far to simple a way to put it, so he thought.

feel felt the warmth of the sand beneath them as he tredged along one of the large red dunes, eyes shifting downwards to see a familiar figure, well, he could not make her out entirely clearly, but the color of her lehenga certainly gave her away. for as long a she remembered, ruqaiyah of house dayne had a way of standing out amongst the rest, and he chuckled as he made his way down to greet her, but was met with a question he did not expect.

"there will be plenty other gatherings, perhaps you and i will make up the time later when it is not quite so filled to the brim." he suggested light-heartedly, for truly his reasoning for wandering off was in that, he wanted to get a bearing on his own mind before presenting himself before the whole of sunspear. his absence would be noticed, but he believed he had reputation enough for seeking his prayers on his own time that it would not be entirely surprising.

hands crossed comfortably behind his back as he allowed the tide to wash over his feet, the coolness of the water seemingly washing away what littler worries lingered in his mind so he may focus on the larger challenges. "high noon, a day such as this one. at least, that is what ma had told me, if my memory does not deceive me." he did not think it did, though he made a note to confirm such a thing from the text detailing his birth.

he looked around, a grin on his face as he made a point to silently say there was no one around them, now. "well, it seems now is the time to ask whatever you wish to, without other onlookers." he stated.

★

why did he need a ball thrown for his return, as though his place was not starfall? were they truly throwing celebrations for a lord returning to his post after fulfilling his duty? the sound of her iridescent silks covering the path of the private, enclosed garden seemed to drape by it; truthfully, such an event was a time that ruqaiyah dayne would come into her own. she would flourish, and glitter, for she believed she could make the whole place shimmer; but this night was different.

all because the rays of starlight now had to be shared; she was no longer the single grace of the evening, the most beautiful woman of house dayne. now there was a new wife of his to take that title of lady of starfall, and that was easily managed. all she would need to do is prove the peasant girl from a basket was over her head. but a newborn baby, born under comet light? how was she supposed to compete against a baby that seemed to happily peer at everyone and anything that breathed? she detested the brat.

she puffed a cloud of smoke into the air behind this private garden, hidden within its private gates, not once considering that anyone would have the nerve to follow her on her own land. her own playing field. she held the smoke between her fingers, dark silky hair cascading down to her waist as she let out another puff, a dramatic sigh escaping her lips. then she heard it—the taunting, all too familiar sound of a jibe.

"every day is a celebration for someone like me. there are many who are grateful for me in starfall." she responded, dramatically rolling her darker lilac gaze as she stepped out into the stone pathway, illuminated by candles. she put out her smoke and carelessly tossed it aside into the gardens her brother no doubt cherished. some gardens they were, compared to the rest of westeros. she looked at him with a deadpan expression, almost feeling a vein throb. what did he mean, on the road?

"i am to be your princess, lord wyl. i have been, since i was a girl," she all but sneered. or was she?

ryon wyl always knew how to get under her skin. the arrogance, the casual jibes—she could hardly stand it. but ruqaiyah would not let him see her falter. no, she would remain the untouchable jewel of house dayne, even if it meant sparring with words that cut as sharply as her brother’s prized blade. “what, are you still trying to prove you’re something more than a nuisance?” she added, her voice laced with disdain.

her words were a weapon, wielded with precision, each syllable dripping with contempt. ruqaiyah dayne would not be outshone, not by some peasant girl turned lady, nor by a man who barely deserved her notice. she would reclaim her place in the starlight, no matter the cost.

who: @ruqaiyahdayne when: flashback; starfall what: an event is being held in starfall for the return of the sword of the morning, ryon wyl attends as the new wyl of wyl.

The last time he saw the Sword of Morning a disagreement rose between them. One that went so far the Wyl of Wyl demanded to duel the other. It was the breaking of his old sword that saw sense come through that day. Still, the tension that existed was a light one, one that Ryon would not dance on. He respected Armaan Yronwood and therefore he would respect Baashir Dayne. That and he respected being alive more than his own pride.

"Is that his sister?" Ryon asked the man who stood across from him. It was the great debate of the Wyl of Wyl, should he show the respect needed or should he play his game. He never missed a chance to play the game. So, he made his way over to her, walking down the smooth stone path, the sound of the sea crash against the shore meshed well with the cry of birds and far off music that filled the air.

"Aur betee ko aisa jashn kab milega? (And when will the daughter get such a celebration?)" Ryon smiled, it would be the game, "Surely you are on the road to betrothal."

★

ruqaiyah raised a single brow at the audacity of it—calling out to her from the other room like she were some girl summoned from the kitchens, like her heels hadn’t just sung her arrival down the corridor with the clarity of temple bells. she stood perfectly still for a moment longer, letting silence stretch in reply to his voice, her lip twitching with disbelief. you’re early, he’d said. which means i’m technically on time. technically, he was technically a nuisance. he had not come to greet her. not risen, not bowed, not offered even the pretence of preparation. and worse—he dared to mimic her.

and there he was: barefoot, lounging, still in loose garments like he had just woken from a nap rather than risen to receive her. "excuse me, put some shoes on. i hate feet."

if he had been anyone else—anyone less—she would have turned on her heel without so much as a word and left nothing but the memory of her scent clinging to the doorframe. but no. he was ravi. prince ravi. and unfortunately for him, that just saved him. when he called it war paint, ruqaiyah blinked. slowly. deliberately. her head tilted ever so slightly, lips pursed in disbelief as though she hadn’t just spent two hours ensuring every element of her appearance looked effortless. war paint?

“war paint,” she repeated, tone dry as sunstone. “it’s called gloss, actually,” she corrected, setting her small jewelled clutch down with a loud thunk on the nearest marble surface. the sound echoed, sharp and petulant. “hydration, you may have heard of it if you were not here smoking all day.”

she didn’t take his offered hand. not yet. let him stand there a moment longer, reaching—just to remember she was not his to summon like some courtier in need of favour. instead, she let her gaze travel the room as though assessing its worthiness. she was bored, she decided. utterly unimpressed. and she would act as such, even if the flutter in her chest betrayed something more viciously alive.

“i feel you’ve made no effort,” she observed plainly, gesturing vaguely to his tunic with the sweep of her eyes. “unless the brief was ‘freshly roused from a sand nap.’” she turned, just slightly, so the back of her lehenga swished and caught the light again. “do you greet all women like this, or only the ones you’re legally promised to?” she finally moved toward him, slow and disdainful as a cat, stopping just before his hand but not taking it. instead, she raised one perfectly threaded brow again and asked, “what is for dinner? or is that also arriving late, princely style?” she clicked her tongue softly, folding her arms.

ravi heard her before he saw her.

the soft chime of jewelry, the crisp tap of her heels, the imperial hush that followed her into a room. ruqaiyah. he didn't look up from the open book in his lap, not yet. there was a certain joy in letting her simmer, the kind only an eldest daughter of house dayne could manifest with a lift of her brow and the faintest curl of her lip. she expected the world to keep time with her, and so, he made it a point now and then to remind her that he was not the world, he was the sun, too, and suns did not rise early for anyone.

he shifted in his seat, lounging not in the dining room, where a table had, admittedly, only just begun to be set, but in the adjoining room, low on cushions, barefoot, still in a half-loose tunic the color of smoked amber. incense curled lazily toward the ceiling, and a small tray of pomegranate seeds and sugared dates sat beside him, untouched. the air smelled of sandalwood, citrus peel, and something sharper: expectation.

"you’re early," he called out, his voice warm, bemused, and deliberately languid. "which means i’m technically on time."

he rose slowly, with the kind of unhurried grace only a man absolutely certain of himself could wield. he did not come into view immediately, just allowed his voice to roll through the solar like the wind curling through desert canyons.

"tell the prince i am here," he mimicked softly to himself with a grin, crossing into the room at last. and then, louder: "consider him told."

ravi’s gaze swept over her, thoughtful, appreciative, just a little amused, like he was deciphering the difference between invitation and challenge. she was a vision in pink, yes, but also a storm wrapped in silk and fire, and gods, hadn’t he always known she’d arrive like this? not just beautiful, but inevitable.

“you wore war paint for dinner,” he said, mouth tilting into a lazy smile. “should i be flattered… or concerned?”

his bare feet padded over the cool tiles, and he stopped just short of her, not too close, but close enough for her perfume to make him want to forget every plan he'd half-laid for the evening.

then, with the offhanded authority of a prince too used to being obeyed, he glanced toward the archway where two servants lingered at a distance, still, watching. “leave us,” he said quietly.

a bow, a shuffle of sandals on stone, and they were alone.

his voice softened as he turned back to her, now entirely hers. “come,” he offered, reaching a hand out in invitation, fingers adorned in rings, palm open and warm. “they're setting the table, but we can talk here until everything is prepared for us."

★

life was doing that thing it always done in the aftermath of a tense conversation or situation: replaying the words uttered over and over again in the mind of the grace of the evening, though in a striking contrast to the majority of humans with a conscience, there did not come waves of regret or even embarrassment for how the situation had unfolded. if anything, the only feels of ire and irritation were aimed at herself, for not escalating matters even further: she was unable to see how that would have done no favours, too wrapped up in her own scars, her own feeling of betrayal.

and so, ruqaiyah had no issue with acting as though devani was not in the room - and those who knew her, knew even that suggested something was there.

for in truth, it was unlikely the lady of starfall would have left anyone who had vexed her to their own devices. it was unlikely she would not have them looking behind their shoulder, or finding a way to further shame them - her cruel streak had apparently weaned, or perhaps it had morphed into a different sort of cruelty. the type where one pretends as though she never existed at all; as though she was not, and never had been, anything special.

it were not as though ruqaiyah did not know how to do such a thing. a pale pink, almost white mask remained upon her features; until it didn't.

there was the feeling of a hand quickly moving to rest on her hip, and ru's brows furrowed, lilac orbs darting downward - and her mask was gone. she had heard of such rumour, and turned to confront the thief - only to find herself looking within the jovial eyes of devani toland, who continued acting as though nothing had happened. it was something ruqaiyah took as a personal insult, a targeted attack on her - how could she do this?

they were in public, in the middle of the day; and as much as ruqaiyah wished to grab her by the hair and shake her, push her into a nearby fountain, she could not.

"some of us don't need gold from others." instead, she shot her a dirty look, her gaze glancing up and down the woman - acting as though the woman had entirely missed the point. her fingers snapped together, a dayne pageboy scurrying toward her; she went into the small pouch of money, and handed it roughly to devani into her hands, as though she were giving money to a begger. "and if you must know, somebody else was supposed to unmask me. thank you for ruining that. " a lie. pettiness.

closed starter for @ruqaiyahdayne setting: lann's day

it was a stupid, and reckless decision. and yet, stupid and reckless was what devani did best.

she had not expected ruqaiyah dayne to welcome her home with open arms. had she done so, perhaps devani would have been more wary, expected some sort of underhanded trick from the lady of starfall. no, ruqaiyah's rage was to be expected, the depths to which she would sink to get the upper hand? devani had quite forgotten just how cruel she could be, when she had a mind to be.

and yet. ruqaiyah had long been the one thing she could never quite let go of, no matter how many years and miles she tried to put between the two of them. devani did not like that. she had never belonged to anybody but herself, but when it came to ruqaiyah, that confidence was shaken a little. she knew she should leave it alone, stop picking at the raw wound that existed between them, but she could not when she was in essos, every few months an anonymous gift with no note attached finding it's way to dornish shores, to ruqaiyah's hands. she must have suspected who sent them.

and she could not leave it alone now. the tension of their last meeting gripped at her. perhaps it was because she was already so weighed down, by the boy who lay in the sewers of king's landing, by what was left of dante uller upon the floors of sunspear, by the selhorys sell sword who had succumbed to a terrible illness and the little boy who now needed to be, somehow, smuggled into dorne, but she could not let it go.

she approached from behind, one hand resting upon ruqaiyah's hip to keep her still, the other lifting the mask from her face. she had known it was ruqaiyah before she had even had to look too closely, the hue of her clothing giving her away, if not anything else. she did not wish to think about the anything else.

she released her grip, stepping backwards with her prize clutched in her hands, waggling it a little as ruqaiyah turned so that she could see what she had done. "i win," she let out a laugh, turning the mask over in her hands. "you ought to be more vigilant, ru. you'd never have won the day like that, anyway."

mask shifted to her left hand, devani held out her right, in the expectation that ruqaiyah would pay her the winnings she was owed. "come on, then. i believe you owe me a little coin now." there was a teasing lilt to her voice. though their last meeting was still fresh on her mind, devani was acting as though nothing had ever happened. as though she was sixteen again. if she were, would she have made different choices, knowing all she did now?

in her heart, she knew the answer was a resounding no.

★

it had only taken a moment for the lady of starfall to find herself regretting the half compliment she had been kind enough to throw in the direction of devani toland, the same way one would throw scraps from their dinner table for their dogs remaining at their feet. the gaze she felt upon her was one that simmered with a sense of heat; a look she had forgotten in feeling, but not in appearance - the slight twinkle of dark orbs, and words that said nothing but everything all at once.

the west side of the east. even her answers were complicated, vague, and ambiguous. and it frustrated her so. still, more like; and that only made her more irritated with herself. her amethyst gaze flickered over the garments once again, in a gaze that was tainted with both judgement, and curiosity. as though there would some clue, some piece of her map that remained upon her. "not quite up to date though."

she used a hand to wave toward the other women on the table, who no doubt were going in and out of listening to their conversation. it was also a move to gain attention, considering her bangles clinked. she wanted eyes fixed upon them for the next conversation. "everyone knows we all wear dornish fabrics now."

and yet, it had always been her very complication that had always drawn the starlight of starfall to the all encompassing what-if that was the ghost of ghost hill. her ability to question everything, and do things because she wanted to; rather than being because of expectations, of tradition and of culture. her being a walking question mark, in contrast to the finality of a period that was ruqaiyah; the haunting of what ifs.

ruqaiyah dayne in her essence was vain, and enjoyed the feeling of eyes upon her; whether it be for the clothes she was wearing, or for other things. her looks, her manner, her lineage that was the matter of myth. many likened themselves to stars across the length and breadth of westeros; and yet, she was the brightest of stars in the sky.

and then came an amused smile, mirrored with a feminine laugh; a scoff. a brush off. "oh, people change devina." a wrong name, in front of multiple eyes. ruqaiyah's gaze seemed lit with something. was it attention? was it finding herself twirling into a trip? was it enjoyment in her mean spirit? "people who claim otherwise are those trying to find some connection with people that have long since forgotten them."

and then their gaze locked.

"so, what gossip have you heard about people who do not change? i heard it got quite messy in sunspear."

looking upon ruqaiyah's face once more stirred something strange in the pit of devani's stomach, feelings long buried, even if thoughts of her had refused to stay shackled in the graveyard of devani's memory. she had forgotten what it was to stand close to her, to stand in awe under the glow of starlight and feel blessed that it chose to shine on her.

the way ruqaiyah spoke to her now was not shining or glowing, and yet, the craving within devani to feel that once more worked its way up her spine regardless. time and distance had not been enough to rid her of her addiction to the lady of starfall. it did not matter that ruqaiyah chose to greet her under the guise of an acquaintance, a stranger, even. she was speaking to her with something that resembled civility, and that was enough for now.

"the years have been kind." to both of them, in physicality if nothing else. she knew little of what exactly ruqaiyah had been doing in the years that parted them, and did not want to talk about the stains they had left on her own soul.

"hmm," devani looked down at her attire. of course, her ru would notice the fabric was not westerosi in origin, but she couldn't for the life of her remember where it had came from. "myr, maybe? could have been pentos. definitely the west side of the east." it was an non-committal answer. the kind devani was very, very good at.

she raised her cup to her lips and drank, but still, she did not look away. she had been so nervous, so frightened to face ruqaiyah again, and now, she wanted nothing more than to look at her, to take in what she had denied herself for far too long.

do you find sunspear much different?

i do now my best friend's brains have decorated it's halls.

it was the response devani wished to give, and it was on the tip of her tongue, but she bit it back. what good would it do her to crusade for vengeance for dante uller in a court that had already condemned him? what could she gain, except to be consigned to the afterlife alongside him?

instead, devani shrugged. "not so," even if ruqaiyah would not look at her for longer than a second, devani would not avert her gaze. it was almost a silent dare at this point, a will for the woman to meet her eyes and look. "some things do not change." plenty had, but dorne was still dorne. in many ways, her return had been like stepping in back in time. "people, especially, are usually much the same, no matter how much they think time has effected them. don't you think?"

★

ruqaiyah stood silently beside ravi, her eyes briefly scanning the expanse of the ocean, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore almost drowning out her thoughts. the sun above them beat down relentlessly, reflecting off the water’s surface in flashes of blinding light. for a moment, she wished to turn away from the conversation altogether. it was easier to pretend to be interested in the world outside than to face the intricacies of the conversation inside her head. "you always were one to wear duty like armor," ruqaiyah said quietly, her eyes slipping over to ravi. the subtle tension in his posture—almost imperceptible, yet there—made her wonder how much of this new role he truly wanted.

"we are similar like that, you see." not that it matters, she thought to herself, he doesn’t have a choice.

ruqaiyah’s gaze flicked briefly to the horizon, but she couldn’t focus on the waves this time. every part of her was pulling her attention back to the man standing beside her. he’s avoiding it. it was maddening. her lips tightened as the irritation churned inside her, a simmering heat that made the air around her feel heavier. was this going to be how it was with ravi? it was, wasn’t it? a slow dance around the subject, as though the weight of the betrothal—the reality of it—was something that could be ignored. but it can’t be, she thought bitterly. It can’t be avoided forever.

"you've always been good at deflection," ruqaiyah remarked coolly, her tone sharp despite the calm exterior. Her fingers, which had been lightly tracing the fabric of her dress, suddenly stilled. She turned to face him fully now, the light from the sun catching the delicate curves of her face, but her eyes were narrowed—piercing.

"it’s funny, really," she continued, her voice hiding the desperation that was simmering within it, as she sauntered a few steps closer to him. "you’d think by now someone would have decided when we’d actually get married. seems like that’s something one should plan ahead for, don’t you think?" her eyes flashed up to meet his, watching for his reaction, though she kept her expression perfectly composed—deliberately cold, yet laced with just enough sarcasm to make her point clear. "it’s quite the conundrum, isn’t it?" she continued, her fingers brushing against the sand, drawing invisible shapes in the air, all while keeping her focus on him.

"a betrothal that’s been dragging on for far too long, and yet... no progress. it’s almost as if someone isn’t interested in actually making it official. i wonder who that could be." she was dancing on the edge of something dangerous now, but it was a dance she knew well. ruqaiyah wasn’t blind to the politics of it all—she knew that there were reasons for delay, reasons far beyond their personal relationship. but that didn’t mean she had to like it. and if she could coax ravi into moving, just a little, then perhaps she'd have the answer she needed.

head tilted down, looking upon his feet that were submerged in the ocean, feeling the tide push and pull, almost symbolizing the ebb and flow of duty he were coming to face as the now eldest son of house martell. it were a heavy feeling, and while he knew mors was far from perfect, he could understand how that duty alone might bare down upon ones shoulders. ravi were not ruler, but he knew myriam would value his opinions on matters, and he would do his best to ensure the dorne that was left to his niece was one of strength and prosperity.

a small shrug of his shoulders was part of his response. "as i'm sure in any court. i'll admit, i've never paid much attention. perhaps now i should be better about that." ravi valued the opinions of others on important matters, but gossip? gossip was not something he cared much for. he preferred to form his own thoughts on certain circumstances.

a grin spread wide upon his features. "i promise not to tell him, though if he catches word, you must tell him i did not know." he insisted. he pressed his feet harder upon the sand, the grainy texture grounding him as he inhaled the sea air. "i have heard my sisters speak of it, and their ladies. it's a nice link to the other kingdoms, though perhaps it keeps them confidently put where they are." he jested. hearing the rumors swirling about those to the north of them, the things that would not be looked down upon in dorne, or otherwise the chaos within other courts, certainly might deter them from wanting to venture. ravi, however, was unsure of his thoughts on that.

"i...completely understand that, actually." there was a glimmer of hope, a common ground he found with a woman he had been betrothed to for so long, yet, never directly spoke of it. now that it were looming over them, perhaps he yearned to see what natural relationship might form between them. "though admittedly i prefer my solitude. those...vultures as you say tend to get into my head more than i care for."

at the question of his mother, he gave a simple nod. "she is...doing as well as she can. my sisters have watched closely on her. she seems to be focusing on leila, for now." he sighed, wishing he were of more help. "i imagine she will take the opportunity for those gathered to revel in company." at least, rashid hoped she might. he thought he would see if one of his sister's could put the idea in her mind. "and how is your family? given everything..." he imagined they were still processing a great loss, and he remembered how close ruqaiyah was to safeerah.

Spaceballs (1987) dir. Mel Brooks