★

★

she took a step closer, her pale pink silks whispering against the stone floor, her presence nyielding - she never knew when to stop. never knew when to let up, constantly needing to have the final word in every situation and scenario. “but let us entertain the thought, just for a moment. you believe you’ve returned with something to offer, something to prove, but i see through it. you’re like nothing - fading, trying desperately to hold onto something that no longer exists.” her gaze flicked over devani’s bowed head, the mockery in it stoking the embers of her irritation.

“what could you possibly offer anyone now, devani? your roots were severed the moment you left, and no amount of coy glances or veiled words can replant them. what more is there for you here? fixing your brother's mess?” she scoffed, her hand jingling with the sound of amethyst jewels, white gold glinting in the sunlight. "it is my brother that will sort your mess, we all know it. and you will nod and say, okay...as if that would stop anything." there was a level of cruelty in her words now, almost in retaliation to the slow gaze that crept over her figure, and as much as she took pleasure in it, she also found herself bitter by it.

because it changed nothing. her body was just a body to devani toland; she was not special. she was not different. and it was enough to make her want to scream.

ruqaiyah’s laugh came slow, deliberate, curling like smoke in the air between them. she tilted her head, her amethyst eyes dark and calculating as they swept over devani. “oh, darling,” she began, her voice low and rich, tinged with that razor-sharp edge she wielded so effortlessly. “there is nothing to tell ravi. nothing.” her lips twitched into a smile that barely concealed the bitterness lurking beneath. “and even if there were, it would be so insignificant as to hardly warrant his attention.” she turned her head slightly, as though inspecting devani from a new angle, her gaze laden with a judgmental disdain.

“what is it you think i have to tell him, hmm? that two girls used to share a bed? that you used to spend far too much time within my house because nobody wanted you in yours?"

devani exhaled, a sound halfway between a scoff and a laugh. "fear, courage... there's a fine line between them, ru. and in the end, it doesn't matter what lit the fire under my heels. i am here." her words were edged with a note of finality. it did not matter what words ruqaiyah flung at her now, running could not be an option.

and yet, there was something devani could not deny. underneath ruqaiyah's piercing gaze and sharp words was a woman who knew the parts of herself devani had fought for years to hide, to keep concealed behind flippant smiles and smarmy words. here was a woman who knew her from the inside out, even after so many years looking at her through the lens of a teenage girl who still looked at her and saw betrayal.

her gaze dropped, flicking to ruqaiyah's hand for a heartbeat as it brushed hers off, as though to mask the look that crossed her face. when she looked up again, it was gone. "what could i possibly be hiding?" the answer to that was more than she thought even ruqaiyah could imagine. "honestly, ru. you and your conspiracy theories. you'll drive yourself mad." as though she was not the one slowly losing her grip, as though she hadn't accumulated enough secrets to bury her.

she did not answer, instead allowing her eyes to drag over ruqaiyah, slow and leisurely. she could slap away devani's touch, but she could not stop her looking, could not wash away what she wished to pretend had never happened. they had once been everything to each other, until devani had decided to be nothing, a name and a ghost and a memory, which no explanation as to why. even then, she had not shared the reality of life in ghost hill, though ruqaiyah might have guessed as to why she spent so much time anywhere but home.

she straightened, halting her trip through the maze of memories with a deferent bow of her head, but even in that gesture, there was mockery. "as your subject to be then, i suppose i ought to be properly repentant." her tone dripped with sarcasm. "tell me, princess ruqaiyah, how might i atone? should i get on my knees?" there was suggestion in her words, though she quickly dropped it, her tone becoming more thoughtful when she asked again.

"but what will you tell him? that fiancé of yours? because you're right about one thing, ru. nobody can hide forever."

★

it felt as though there were words that were being uttered, and yet, her thoughts were entirely distracted by the question at the very back of her mind; what were they doing? did he intend to go through with it still? the light chuckle that slipped from his lips caused her amethyst orbs to glance up at his figure, using her hand to shield her from the glare of the sun's rays - perhaps the sun of dorne was always supposed to be ravi martell, rather than his older brother.

"and does their opinion change often?" she asked him, her hands remaining on either side of her lilac adornment; gossip was gossip, and despite it all, ruqaiyah dayne had not experienced the ways the wind of gossip changed from day to day within the beating heart of sunspear.

"the watchers pamphlet gets delivered to starfall too…something the first minister does not know." she added, a slightly amused expression crossing her features; he knew her brother, knew how he detested such nonsense. "do people read them often in sunspear?" how quickly to the winds change, was the question she was truly asking. how different would things have been if it had been him who was the oldest, the firstborn? a small part of herself found herself feeling somewhat jaded, knowing she had missed the opportunity for her line to be the direct rulers of dorne; no, that privilege went to the girl in the basket instead.

if this match went through, she would be second best; still, as she had always been to the eyes of everyone. his comment regarding not disappointing her mother caused a slight look to cross her features, one of familiarity as he looked at her; such a small comment, though she knew it had meaning. one simply did not disappoint lady dayne. "it depends on the people, i suppose. i have grown able to be alone in my own head, even in a room of people…a skill, when surrounded by vultures."

"…how is your mother?" ruqaiyah asked, feeling herself stand on something pointed within the ocean. she did not grimace, though moved her foot from it, feeling an ache quickly begin to develop. her mother was waiting to be invited to a personal audience with the matriarch of house martell.

a chuckle escaped him and he gave a slight shrug at her answer. ravi did not mean to insinuate he was ashamed of people seeing the two of them together, in fact it were almost quite the opposite. the thought strangely made him nervous, but not in a way that he did not want to commit himself to the woman before him, rather he hadn't a chance to really consider just how near that time was coming. despite being betrothed to her for many years, there had always been a separation of lives, other matters that they attended to, and now they were needing to face what was to come for them, together.

ravi couldn't help but wonder her thoughts on the matter. he knew house dayne's more traditional stances seeped within her veins, and she would follow through with the duty bestowed upon her. perhaps that alone was enough for a cordial marriage, as ravi thought himself to be a reasonable person to get along with. however, he hoped she would not feel as if the cards had been dealt, and there could be no true connection, eventually. despite his more reserved, private nature, he was a bit of a sentimental creature.

head tilted to the side and a grin came over his features, her words held a hint of elicit matters within them, but he could not gauge if that is what she actually intended to say. "good, certainly the opinion of the court is an important one." he remarked, and he were being entirely truthful, for perhaps in some way, ravi felt as if he was truly being the light, the sun that he was always spoken to be, having been eclipsed by his elder brother for so long. thoughts raced through his mind on just how people perceived him, and he wondered if ruqaiyah had felt the same.

"well, we cannot disappoint your mother. i'll ensure the information is given to her swiftly." he placed his hands behind his back, looking down at the glimmering water that rose to their knees, almost feeling the energy of the ocean itself surge through him. despite the little bit of conversation they were having, ravi found himself glad to have a moment alone with ru. it gave them a small chance to attempt to be themselves before the other. "do you often find yourself away from the masses?" he questioned, perhaps wanting to understand her feeling on the large gathering happening within the halls of sunspear before them. "or rather, is solitude something you prefer at times?"

@opheliafowler / @dancingshores

MEAN GIRLS (2004) dir. Mark Waters

★

the seat in which baashir now sat upon their grand table had been years in the making; it was constantly referenced that someday he would be the next ruling lord of starfall, spoken about more than any other thing in their family. her marriage, and his lordship, and his marriage: only one of those things had happened, and yet there was often a picture that was painted. that life was as it should be, like there was not someone missing at the table: she had always struggled to see the portrait of her father upon the wall behind what was once his seat.

this change was hardly new, and yet, she thought of it each time baashir sat down in the chair. what was missing, what once was, and whether this was all it was supposed to be.

her amethyst gaze looked over to the sight of her mother trailing behind a message boy, something about a message from their cousin safeerah; she could still hear their mother's voice ringing from the halls as he uttered his next words. so he had not seen her, but he had smelt her. "smoke?" she allowed a puzzled expression to cross over her features that appeared as though they had been chiselled from marble, from glass, from the stars itself.

"do i?" she asked again, her hand resting upon the chair; and yet, she was inwardly cursing at herself.

of course he would smell it, because he knew the smell all too well. there was little use in becoming angry and defensive, because he would see that. instead, she feigned genuine confusion - not even denying smoking herself. she did not want him to think that was the first thing on her mind. "i do not smell it, but maybe it was the incense i had burning in my room, or the new fragrance could be using too much sandalwood. serves me right for trying out new ones."

she almost mirrored his actions, folded arms coming upon the table stop, white gold bangles shimmering beneath the crystal chandelier that hung above them. a silent challenge, that he could read too much into. she would pretend to be upset if she needed to, and get their mother involved. "you've arrived just before safeerah - she'll be so happy to see you too." they had not been able to see her since the funeral of their rashid.

"are you staying long?" how much will you be around to be on my head and monitoring me?

The Sword of the Morning was 1 and 10 when he first tried one of the smokes that were growing in their popularity as the countries separated and other regions increased their trade with the East or perhaps, he knew nothing about who smoked where and made broad assumptions. Baashir Dayne would never admit to the latter, so he supported the former. And while he didn’t smoke often, he still enjoyed smoking after a meal. Smoking after a particularly rough day or when he finished his games with Rashid. But Rashid was dead, and he was in constant need of reminding everyone he remembered. How could one forget? One couldn’t.

Baashir Dayne was familiar with the smell of smoke. The smell of the dried, brown leaves burning within its place. Could be anyone was his first thought. But when he entered his mother was there, as she always was, greeting him. There was excitement, arms thrown around his neck and brief whispers of how she missed him and wished he stayed home even longer. And this would be a lengthy stop but not one long enough for her, that he knew. But, soon, the son of the Starfall would return and all would be right. If he believed his mother.

“Bhaiṇa.” Bash greeted her, returning the hug, he then paused as he looked at her. The smell caught him first. Smoke. She smelled like smoke and if anyone noticed the subtle changes in his expression it was always Ru that noticed and tugged at mother’s skirts. She was too old to tug at skirts now. And clearly believed herself old enough to take up some smoking but then she mentioned food and him being fat. “No I’m not. I didn’t eat because I knew there would be …”

And before he could finish his mother was giving orders for trays of fruit and cheese, trays of raw veggies and hard meats, and anything could be made hot. Bash didn’t try to stop her. It was their jobs to make sure the lord of the house had a full belly before bed.

“Sit down.” Bash look at her as he allowed his cloak to be removed and then he removed his own sword belt, lying it down on the chair directly across from them. Sitting as he always did, stiffly, forearms resting against the tabletop.

“You smell like smoke.” He said as their mother left the room.

★

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 dayne’s smile curved slowly, a perfectly practiced arc that revealed nothing of the thoughts stirring behind her violet eyes. she allowed lord tirius rowan to take her hand, his lips brushing it with all the decorum of a reachman’s chivalry. his restraint amused her, though she made no effort to show it. instead, she tipped her head slightly, letting the shimmering folds of her white shawl catch the sunlight, her every movement deliberate, her every angle framed as if for a portrait.

“my lord rowan,” she said, her voice as smooth and honeyed as the wines of arbor. “you honor me.” her tone was light, almost playful, the words brushing the surface of their conversation without delving into its depths. she could feel his gaze lingering on her, but she refused to meet it too directly, instead letting her lashes lower just enough to seem demure.

“new to joining the court, you say?” she let out a soft, breathy laugh, a sound like bells. “i suppose you could say that. sunspear’s court is...well. it is no starfall.” her lips, glistening with gloss, curved just a touch more. “starfall is unmatched, the very jewel of dorne. you must see it someday, my lord, if only to understand what it means to live surrounded by true beauty.” she let her words hang for a moment, savoring the way they seemed to catch him off guard.

ruqaiyah had long since mastered the art of making men fumble, not through overt advances, but by pulling their focus and tilting their world just enough to make them aware of her control. and yet it never went anywhere, for she would rather sit back and look upon their sisters or wives.

“but yes,” she continued, her tone light once more, as if brushing away the matter entirely, “it is my first time at court. my lord brother has always insisted that starfall required my presence, though i suspect he simply wished to keep me hidden away.” she lifted her gaze to meet his now, bold and unflinching, her violet eyes gleaming like polished amethysts.

her words danced around the obvious tensions between their kingdoms, careful not to reveal too much. instead, she tilted her chin slightly, allowing her hair to spill like a cascade of silk over one shoulder. “tell me, lord rowan,” she said, her voice almost a purr, “what brings the men of the reach so close to dorne’s waters? surely it is not merely the promise of silks and sweet smells.” her smile returned, sharper now, a blade hidden within silk. "many call you pirates."

The Dornish were people of questionable character and low repute. House Rowan themselves held an ages long animosity with those of House Wyl and by extension the Martells who fostered such barbery in in their kingdom and allowing those people to thrive and continue to grow. They also had the fortune of being the Principality with the second most beautiful women in Westeros, the Reach holding their position at the top secure in his mind.

She was proud to be a lady of Starfall, he took note. Tirius didn't know if the Dayne's followed the same birth order of Dorne, or if they picked their sons. What he knew of the Daynes, they were closer to the Old Way than the Dornish. Even their mother was of the Reach. Perhaps it aided in the beauty of the woman who presented her hand with a confidence that woke up something in the Hand of the King.

Chivalry, it's true nature, was a Reachly idea. He took her hand in his own and kissed the back carefully, not allowing his lips to linger of his touch. Still, his gaze stayed on her. "My lady of Starfall."

"Is that so?" Yes, his countrymen went to Dorne and lost themselves in silks and sweet smells. Tirius buried the temptations lust turning deeper to his Gods and papers. The Gods who failed him and the papers that continued to pile up around him. And as his wife left him and his world fell apart, Tirius descended. A darkness that was strangling the light. A side of him he tried to hide away.

"I've not seen you before. Are you new to joining your court?" As he looked at her, he understood why her brother would have her hidden in a tower. There were many snakes in the rose bush.

★

she only theatrically shrugged.

bluntness was a cursed habit of house dayne; all members seemingly having short tongues, their affinity to wrapping it in lace, flowers and silver was what differed from individual to individual - the very opposite of ambiguity, of double meanings, and looking too close into something. it would be a lie to say ruqaiyah dayne was not one to make ambiguous comments in passing with the sole intention of making another feel nervous or insecure about themselves; it was in her early girlhood she realised ambiguity could be a weapon.

"did you ever try to reach out to your childhood friend?" ruqaiyah asked, amethyst hues flickering away from a vivid dark gaze toward the food that was now cold on the plate before her. "perhaps he did not adjust well to your vanishing act."

one she felt now, sitting on the opposite of this damned table, and she found herself doing mental gymnastics attempting to work out what it was devani was truly saying. how she hated it, when she was on the receiving end. hypocritical to her very core; her hand remained beneath her chin as she merely looked upon the woman opposite her with a torn look. one of scathing judgement, as though she were vermin beneath her shoe; and the other side being one rooted in fractured insecurity.

"then again, why would you? that would require you to be able to admit when you've done wrong, and both of us do not have the time to unwind the length of that scroll."

dying for answers of questions she had always buried deep within her for years, though was never able to ask them - for she never had an address of where to write. the letters never came with any confirmation of identity, never came with any inclination of where she could write anything back: even across the narrow sea, devani toland had some control over her ability to open her mouth and say anything.

her gaze narrowed when she mentioned baashir; baashir did not get angry. he was the perfect knight, and he was doing his duty. so he beat a man to a pulp, who gave a shit when the man was a traitor? his life meant nothing anyway. "well, some of us have brothers who actually protect their families. you know baashir, devani - considering you stayed some time with us." to be away from whatever hell hole ghost hill was.

how it had taken time for ruqaiyah to be willing to open her mouth and speak on the truth of who she was: how she was ready to tell devani she would sit both of her parents down and speak the truth to them - that she did not wish to marry, that she did wish to set foot in a sept she did not believe in. that devani toland would not be a secret. and with a gust of wind over sails, that came to a sudden, screeching end. instantly, the rose hue faded to black and white, and the bubble burst: it had all been in her own head.

a foolish, naive girl believing none other compared, that she stood alone. "are you intending on staying, lady toland?"

she wasn't sure why she hadn't anticipated this, why it had taken her so by surprised when the subject of dante was broached. she had been lucky, thus far, that nobody else had approached her so pointedly. conversations about dante had been few and far between, usually accompanied by offers of condolences from them, and assurances from devani that she had no idea what her friend had been up to. that wasn't a lie. dante had kept her in the dark - and she was eternally grateful that he had.

but if devani had forgotten the depths to which ruqaiyah could stoop, she had forgotten how resilient devani could be. was she not the girl who had left dorne with nothing, who had flitted from place to place, building a new life for herself each time? the silence was a sign of her displeasure, but she would not remain quiet.

"i do not know what curse gripped dante uller's heart in my absence," the words were more for the benefit of anybody still listening to the conversation than ruqaiyah, a simple statement that washed her hands of any guilt, and addressed the lady of starfall's words without ambiguity, without shame. devani toland would not be cowed.

"but i mourn the friend i've known since my childhood." and there, she moved back into ambiguity, because those words could apply to dante uller - but they could just as easily be affixed to ruqaiyah dayne, because devani had mourned her, and thought of her, and wanted her. even when she hated her.

"yes, i hear your lord brother's fury was a sight to behold. tell me, does he often lose control of himself like that?" it was a dangerous hand to play, and yet, devani chose to throw that card on the table regardless, a reminder that the daynes of starfall were not as perfect, as infallible, as ruqaiyah was painting them to be. "let us all be thankful that we have our first minister to dispense justice upon the wicked, hmm?" and there, she retreated back into what was safe, a place where nobody could twist her words and paint them as a slight on baashir dayne. they were blessed to have him, a shining star of the dornish court.

devani hated this game.

"i suppose we do," devani's eyes burned as they met ruqaiyah's once more. try again. her lips twisted into a mirthless smirk. "there is nothing sadder than someone who holds on to hate for things they can't control, is there?"

★

lady ruqaiyah dayne’s smile never faltered as she listened to lord tirius rowan’s carefully measured words, her amethyst eyes gleaming with amusement. he was every bit the cautious noble, wary of her charms, yet drawn to them all the same. how delightful, she thought, to be the object of such scrutiny and yet remain untouchable. she basked in his attention, knowing full well the game they played. “oh, my lord rowan,” she began, her voice a soft, lilting melody, “you do flatter me with your attentiveness. it’s rare to find a man who truly listens, who considers every word as if it were a jewel to be appraised.” she let her gaze drift lazily over him, a fleeting glance that conveyed both interest and indifference.

“and yet, for all your careful weighing, i wonder if you truly believe what you say.”

her fingers toyed with the edge of her shawl, the delicate fabric slipping between her fingers like water. “pirates,” she repeated, her tone light, almost teasing. “is that not what they call men who roam too close to foreign shores, taking liberties under the guise of protection? the reach ships, so bold in their approach, appear to many as little more than corsairs, their sails casting long shadows over dornish waters.” she leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “everyone says so, my lord. the court is abuzz with tales of reachmen turned pirates, their intentions as murky as the seas they sail.” her smile widened, a flash of perfect teeth.

“but perhaps you are right. perhaps it is necessity that drives them, a noble cause cloaked in the guise of opportunism. how very… convenient.”

her laughter was soft, like the tinkling of distant bells, her amusement evident but not overt. “and as for what brings me to these waters?” she straightened, her posture regal, her eyes dancing with mischief. “surely, you do not think a lady such as myself would come simply to hurl accusations. no, my lord, i am here for the court, for the intrigue, and perhaps, for a little fun.” she allowed her gaze to linger on him, bold and unflinching. “after all, what is life without a little adventure? without a touch of danger?” her smile softened, though the edge remained. “i enjoy the dance, my lord, the thrill of being desired but never caught. you see, i thrive in the knowledge that no matter how close you get, you shall never touch me.”

she reclined slightly, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her expression serene. “so, let us continue this game, my lord. you may play the cautious knight, and i, the untouchable jewel. but remember,” her eyes sparkled with challenge, “jewels, no matter how fine, are best admired from a distance.” there was a slight spark in her gaze now, one that seemed to dance with trouble. "lest you can admire dawn from anything but a distance. he's quick to anger, my big brother."

Tirius watched her with the same measured intensity he gave to reports of war and shipments of grain. Her every movement was deliberate, designed to draw attention, and while he could admire the artistry of it, he did not allow himself to be swept up in the performance. No, his admiration of beauty was tempered by suspicion—he had learned long ago that the most polished stones often hid sharp edges. One only need look east where his ex-wife lived with their son.

Her praise of Starfall was expected, and he allowed himself a faint smile, though it never reached his eyes. “I’ve no doubt Starfall is as you say, my lady. A jewel of Dorne.” His tone was polite, neutral, though there was a subtle weight in his words, as if testing hers for sincerity. “But jewels, no matter how fine, can only be appreciated by those who know how to value them.”

Her violet eyes met his, bold and unflinching, and he resisted the urge to look away first. It was not in his nature to yield. She spoke of beauty and her brother’s protectiveness, weaving words like silk. She was clever—he could see that now. Not simply the type to turn heads, but the kind to twist minds if one wasn’t careful.

Tirius Rowan was always careful if one ignored his weakness for women.

When she tilted her chin and questioned him, her voice soft, he allowed himself a quiet laugh, low and brief. “Pirates,” he repeated, rolling the word across his tongue as if testing its weight. “I assure you, my lady, the men of the Reach are many things, but pirates? That is an insult better suited to the Stepstones, not to the Northmarch.”

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze unwavering. “We come close to Dorne’s waters for necessity, not indulgence. A trade route must be safeguarded, lest others—not the Reach—take liberties where they shouldn’t. Surely, a lady of Starfall understands the importance of protecting one’s borders.” His words were calm, but there was an edge now, a subtle challenge. “And tell me, my lady, what brings a jewel such as yourself to these waters? Surely it is not simply to call men pirates.”

Tirius would have her.

Kalank (2019)

★

ruqaiyah tilted her head, a cascade of dark waves brushing against her shoulder as she regarded devani with an expression both amused and cutting. the faint flicker of vulnerability in devani’s words—i’m not going anywhere—was enough to make ruqaiyah’s lips twitch into a slow, deliberate smile. “not going anywhere, are you?” she said, her tone as smooth as polished glass. “i suppose the winds of essos didn’t carry all your courage away, then. or perhaps...” she paused, her violet eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

“you’ve simply run out of places to hide.” there was always something else, some other reason; it was never truthful. it was never simple. everything always had a million reasons.

she took a step forward, deliberate, as if each movement carried its own weight. the years had added a new polish to devani, but ruqaiyah could see the cracks beneath the surface—the hesitation, the weariness that lingered just behind her carefully curated smile. she had seen devani all but stripped bare once before, not just in body but in soul, and the memory lingered like a brand. she had seen her too, in ways no other had ever seen her. no one but her.

“you’ve always been good at playing pretend.” ruqaiyah continued, her voice light, almost conversational, though her words were anything but. “did you like the view?” she asked, her voice dropping, rich with something almost predatory. do you enjoy watching me? “back then, when you slipped into my bed and whispered things you only ever dared in the dark? did you enjoy seeing how far you could push me, how far i would fall for you?” her jaw tightened as a shadow flickered over her expression.

ruqaiyah's words were intended to slice, to cut through the many, many defences devani had thrown up over the years to prevent anybody from knowing her and her secrets. devani could take the jibes and the insults, could let them roll from her back without much trouble, but what bothered her was that ruqaiyah saw the truth of who devani was. it had been years, and yet she saw devani plain, and that was an unsettling thought.

"does that make you the flame?" she replied, smoothly. "burning so bright? you are still here, ruqaiyah, when you are free to turn and walk away. you could have done the moment you saw me, if you wanted me to stay away. funny, that."

they both knew it would do no good. walking away might have ended the conversation for the day, but devani would have sought her out again, like a dog needing to be chased off each morning, and returning without fail the next. and so, around it goes.

"habit's broken," her words were a little more decisive than her previous airy tone. "i'm not going anywhere, ru. i'm getting too old to run."

it was not the whole truth, but it was enough of it. she hadn't known, when she'd arrived back from essos, if she would stay or not, and though a part of her still longed to go again, to leave these shores without a trace of herself behind, she was resigning herself to the fact that wasn't a path left open to her. she needed to stay.

only a mere trace of her careless smile lingered on her lips. for a moment, the two merely looked at each other, the silence stretching for a beat longer than it should. and then, ru stepped back, and it was all broken in an instant. and there was a flicker of something, too fleeting to name, and too sharp to ignore, that she pushed away before her own response came.

"feels like standing too close to the edge of a cliff and hoping the wind doesn't tip you over," the answer came to her tongue a little too quickly, too easily. "but," she shrugged. "i like the view from up there."