★

★

the ocean stretched endlessly before them, the waves lapping at the shore in a soothing, rhythmic cadence. the late afternoon sun bathed the beach in a golden glow, casting soft shadows on the sand where ruqaiyah and ravi stood. her silken, violet gown moved gently with the breeze, the fine embroidery catching the light like tiny constellations stitched into the fabric. she held herself with her usual poised elegance, though there was a new ease in her manner, as though a weight had shifted.

ruqaiyah’s amethyst eyes sparkled as she regarded ravi, his words still lingering in her mind. we’re going to be married. that much is certain. the certainty of it sent a thrill through her, though she masked it with a coy smile. she had spent years calculating her future, manoeuvring through the expectations and pressures of house dayne. now, with ravi’s assurance, the prize felt tangible, within her grasp. the social standing, the prestige—it was all hers, guaranteed. “so, it’s decided,” she said, her voice carrying a playful lilt as she extended her arm, wrist adorned with delicate bangles that chimed softly in the breeze.

“no more deliberation, no more hesitations. you’ve made your choice, and wisely, might i add.” her smile widened, a flicker of amusement touching her expression. “i suppose that means i can stop pestering you."

her gaze wandered briefly to the ocean, where the horizon stretched endlessly, gilded by the setting sun. the sight calmed her, even as her mind churned with thoughts of what was to come. everyone will see now. the whispers will cease. prince ravi martell does intend to marry ruqaiyah dayne. the thought filled her with a quiet satisfaction, her heart lifting at the victory she had so carefully sought. turning back to ravi, she arched an elegant brow, her tone teasing yet carrying an undercurrent of command. “come, then. escort me back to sunspear. it’s only fitting, don’t you think? after all, it wouldn’t hurt for the court to see us arriving together.” her lips curved into a knowing smile, her arm still extended. “let them whisper about us, about you and me, as they’ve done for years. only now, they’ll know the truth. their prince is a man of his word.”

she waited, unwavering, her posture poised and regal against the backdrop of the shimmering sea. for all her playful words, there was a seriousness in her eyes—a satisfaction in the game she had played and won, and a flicker of hope, though she would never admit it aloud. as ravi stepped closer to take her arm, ruqaiyah allowed herself to relax just slightly, savouring the moment.

the wind tugged at ravi’s loose, desert-toned garment as he shifted his weight, hands clasped behind his back. he studied ruqaiyah for a moment, her words still lingering in the air. the way her tone had softened didn’t escape him, nor did the flicker of something unguarded in her amethyst eyes. it wasn’t often she let her walls down, but ravi wasn’t one to rush when patience might yield something worth knowing.

“lean. i’ll make a note of that,” he replied with a faint smile, his tone light to match her teasing. “i’ll see if the kitchens can manage to prepare something that won’t disrupt your regimen.” he let the lightness hang for a beat before exhaling softly, his voice lowering to something gentler, and yet, still firm. “we’re going to be married. that much is certain. and because of that, i think we owe it to ourselves to see if we can build something more than what’s been planned for us.”

he shifted closer, his voice calm but encouraging. “think about it. every decision we make together will shape our lives, our families, even dorne. if we can find a way to understand each other, to truly work as partners, don’t you think that benefits us both? you’re brilliant, ruqaiyah. i’ve known that since we were children. but brilliance shines brighter when it has someone who values it, who complements it. that’s what I want, for both of us.”

ravi allowed a touch of humor to lighten his words. “besides, you said yourself you don’t despise me. that’s a good start, isn’t it?” he smiled, his princely demeanor softening for a moment. “let’s have dinner. not as a test, or something to dread, but as a chance to talk. to see what we’re capable of together before we stand before the world as husband and wife.”

he spread his arms lightly, an easy grace in the gesture. “and if nothing else, i promise it’ll be lean. I wouldn’t dream of ruining your efforts.” he found them unnecessary, but did not feel the need to voice such a thing. ravi met her gaze, now, his tone both firm and inviting. “tomorrow evening. ;et’s take this step, ruqaiyah. for us. deal?”

Spaceballs (1987) dir. Mel Brooks

★

"arrogant? no, it is delusional. she is a mad woman." she took another puff of her smoke, knowing she would need to bask herself in the strongest of scents for family dinner later. baashir was already on edge having seen an apparent imaginary orange glow coming from her balcony window. "i'd have slammed the gates shut in her face and ensure dust got into her eyes." there was a slight scoff that came from her lips, not aimed at safeerah, but rather at the idea that devani would get help from her.

"especially in the aftermath of what her disgusting brother done." no, even if she had come to starfall first, she would have been left to stand in the dust - ruqaiyah was sure of it. not once did the narcissistic grace of the evening consider that devani would know such a thing, and that could have been a reason why she ventured to hellholt. "you know, she speaks of her brother, we all speak of aditya toland, but i don't think they are that different. house of jesters. if ghost hill goes to her, don't trust her." her words were with good intention, and yet, they were detached from the reality of what safeerah would need to do to secure safety for the tor.

there was a peculiar possessiveness ruqaiyah felt for safeerah jordayne; the same way a toddler refused to share her toys, ruqaiyah also detested the idea of anyone else being as close to safeerah as she was. not once had she considered this was a toxic mindset to adopt, instead she seemed to glorify it in her own mind, as though this made her even better of a friend. any issue she held was their issue, and she would have no issue in dealing with it in ways that saf herself would not.

"auntie doesn't deserve this, neither of you do. why is it always the good people that suffer?" she puffed out smoke again, careful to do it away from the direction of safeerah as she knew she did not like it; they were different, but she knew there were certain things she would not do to upset her friend. her sister. the tor deserved security, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she thought of the scene of rashid jordayne's funeral. the pyre, and the scattering of his ashes within the water. the memory was enough to cause her to feel a sense of pain, wallowing up in the back of her throat.

"why even bother going for trial? just get baashir to cut him down, or maybe he can hold him down whilst you do it." the second part of her suggestion was merely a joke, and yet, a part of her caught lady jordayne's gaze - as though she wondered whether she had it in her. she then watched as safeerah took her hand and held her gaze, always comforting, always grounding. she was ruqaiyah dayne. she was ruqaiyah dayne. she could do it, and so, she squeezed saf's hand. "i'll get halima to make sure other women stay away from him, at least until we get married. see, us ladies have our battle tactics too."

"once you've gotten your revenge justice, i'll help you find a good husband." the blend of revenge and justice was intentional, and for a reason; she was sure it was both. it had to be both?

safeerah could not judge her cousin for her reaction to seeing devani toland again. she knew there was true pain hidden behind the venom that had dripped from her lips. “i suppose it was quite funny when you called her devina.” she was in no mood to defend devani. she knew what the woman had done to ruqaiyah, what her brother had done to her own sister. “it is arrogant of her to think she can just return and rejoin society as no time has passed.” the tolands had heads bigger than they had any right to. saf never liked that trait in others. she did see it in ru from time to time, but she also knew there were other sides to her friend. saf saw the quick emotion pass on her face as she mentioned dante. “what would you have done if she had gone to you first? if she had showed up outside your door?” there was a fine line between prying and supporting. she knew ruqaiyah would simply wave her off if she did not wish to answer.

she felt a shiver run down her spine as the trial was mentioned. it was something she sometimes dreamed about at night, half a dream and half a nightmare. she did not answer if she wished for bash to be the one to fight if it ended in a trial by combat. she knew that bash could do it, that he would do it, but it weighed on her to ask. “you ask questions i do not yet know the answer to.” it was a conflict that raged inside her. between ideals and feelings. safeerah wanted to show there was another way, but she also knew if bash handed her the sword then she would run it through the heart of lord toland. “if lord toland dies, you know what that will mean for devani. she has a claim to ghost hill.” safeerah knew if there was no trial that she would have to move against ghost hill ― or maybe she had to do it anyway. there would be no peace inside her otherwise. for a woman who spoke of peace, she could not bear the thought of the tolands getting away with their crimes.

“the prince has a lot on his mind, i would not blame him for feeling overwhelmed with it all.” safeerah could sense the doubt emitting from her cousin, so she leaned forward and took one of her hands. “listen to me.” dark eyes clashed with violet. “you are ruqaiyah dayne, you are beautiful and powerful, and if you want ravi as husband, you will have him.” saf would always be first in line to support her even if their ambitions were wildly different. “he will not say no to you.” she let go of her hand and leaned slightly back again. “trust me, i have tried and i know it's close to impossible.” a soft laugh escaped her then.

safeerah smiled as she observed her friend. she always enjoyed these moments where calm would fall over them, and they could simply talk without thinking twice of what to say. her smile faltered slightly at the question. “mother is coping.” it was the truth. but it was not easy for any of them. she knew her mother longed for rashid as much as she did, and the surrounding chaos only made the longing deeper. he had been their rock and now she had to find a way to become the same, not only for herself and her family, but for all of the tor. “we are not alone, qaiyah, we have our people and each other ― and most of dorne, it seems.” saf knew that her cousin saw the world differently. in some ways, they were as different as night and day, but yet their friendship persisted despite all the reasons it should not. there were none closer to her than ruqaiyah. none where there was no filter between what she thought and what she said.

who: @raviofthesun when and where: the royal apartments of prince ravi martell context: following her little temper tantrum, ravi followed through with the promise of a dinner.

she arrived precisely ten minutes early - expecting everything to be set up and perfect, as no man in his right mind would leave anything of this nature so last minute. she did not knock. ruqaiyah had never once announced herself like a servant waiting to be received, and she would not start now, least of all at the threshold of the private martell apartments, where history had already decided she was to one day belong. and she very much agreed with that rhetoric.

and so, the guards glanced at her, but none dared question her entrance; what could they say, with the sun itself stitched into her lehenga and a gaze that did not ask for permission?

the corridors glowed amber beneath the sconces, but they paled against the pink heat of her attire, the silk whispering against her skin with every step, embroidered thread catching the candlelight in glimmers of gold. each anklet, each bracelet, each chain at her waist and glittering around her neck added to the crescendo of her presence—she moved, and the world jingled in acknowledgment. her heels clacked unapologetically, arrogant and sharp, the kind of sound meant to precede news.

ruqaiyah could see herself walking these halls everyday. telling the governess to tell the children to be quiet. making the servants display her outfits lined up.

she had worn pink—not rose, not blush, not any dusty rose, but pink—hot and commanding, like the inside of a pomegranate freshly torn. it clung to her waist, her sleeves sheer and beaded, the skirts full enough to swallow entire population of smallfolk girls whole. her lips were glassy, unapologetically reflective, and her long hair—every strand straightened to a blade—cascaded down her back like a curtain of ink.

she stood now in the outer solar, though no servants were in sight. fine. let him find her here, composed, statuesque. she smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle from her sleeve and let her gaze drift to the arches and pillars carved with sandstone vines. the martell taste for excess was more subdued than dornish fire might suggest—peach marble and muted earth tones. it made her seem even louder by comparison, a gem mistakenly placed in a bowl of stonefruit. "so this is it," she murmured aloud to herself, fingers trailing lightly along the edge of a table carved with sun motifs. "the belly of the beast."

she had imagined it before, of course. had imagined countless evenings where he would finally remember the promises laid out for them before they could even speak in full sentences. imagined him, not as he was—cool and absent and impossible—but as he might become, if only he would stop stalling. "tell the prince i am here." she did even bother to introduce herself - in what world would she need to? the most beautiful in dorne, on the continent; the sister of the sword of the morning, and the oldest lady of house dayne.

"for our private dinner." she did not want them stood inside.

who: @raviofthesun when and where: two days following lady ruqaiyah dayne's arrival to sunspear from starfall, she crosses paths with the oldest surviving son of house martell - also being her betrothed from their early youth. context: these two have known one another for many years, considering there was some time where ravi lived at starfall to train with baashir during the time of him being a second son.

feigning exhaustion and borderline sickness from the journey across the breadth of dorne had worked in the favour of the lady of starfall; even if she had needed to put her ability to dramatise anything and everything into good use, as though the journey was not one that was done regularly both in the past and the present. the daynes had ventured to the great sept of sunspear alongside the other courtiers of those who swore to be unbowed, unbent and unbroken; a moment of respite from the close monitoring she had been dealing with by her mother and brother alike.

and so the moment the door had shut behind her quarters, an entitled amethyst gaze had immediately turned toward the guard that remained in her room…who now remained a watchful eye on this golden sandy beach in the shadow of the fortress of sunspear and the shadow city itself.

the wonders of giving instructions with no falter or stammer, with the sound logical reason of fresh air helping her fight off the impending sickness she felt at the back of her entirely clear throat. truthfully, her stay in sunspear had been tarnished by a certain ghost's reappearance across from her at a circle table - and this trip was an important one, for a multitude of reasons. the daynes would need to cement their position, in more ways than one. one of such ways would end in her and ravi of the sun circling the marital flames a total of seven times.

but things were different; and as much as she wished to simply be able to navigate herself into his sphere to find a way to close the distance that was some months of business and distance, sunspear and the dornish sun were his halls. and he somehow seemed more of a prince here than in any other place. a part of her grew irritated with the fact she could not smoke under the gaze of the starfall guard, though now she knew this place existed, she would no doubt find some way to slip here.

and when a distant figure appeared upon one of the sand dunes, she narrowed her amethyst gaze, using her hand to shield herself from the glare of the sun behind it to try and see who it was that was walking toward her. feet remained in the sparkling intense blue of the ocean, silver anklets submerged, and pastel pink silk swirling at her feet. the sun continued to blind her, and she began to step forward from the sea kissing at her feet, when the dots connected.

"skipping the sept too, your highness?" she asked, her voice trailing over the soft sound of the waves as she walked too. and whilst she could comfortably refer to ravi as her friend, he was her prince too; especially in such a setting, and so she dropped into a graceful curtsy, not deep enough for it to be strange, but enough to signify respect and a comfort in doing such things. they knew the way their worlds worked - and whilst she complained of many things, he was not one of them. "i have been meaning to ask you what time you were born."

"but you are surrounded each time i see you." she had not realised how much the political situation had changed until she had seen it. rav was not a second son anymore, and a small part of her began to wonder. wonder what she had not wondered before. would marrying another, that was not her, make more sense?

★

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."

★

ruqaiyah dayne was never one to shy away from attention, but tirius rowan intrigued her more than most. he was nothing like the men of dorne, not quick to flatter or make overt gestures. instead, he watched her with a quiet intensity, as if trying to decipher her. she hadn’t expected him to be so... measured. most would be fawning, eager to please her. but not him. no, he had a different kind of arrogance, a controlled one, and that made him more interesting than the others.

she barely registered the words he spoke about wives and homes; they were empty, almost an afterthought. what struck her was the unspoken challenge beneath them. he thought he knew her kind, the dornish women who entangled men in their webs, yet she wasn’t quite so simple. men forget many things, he had said. perhaps that was true. but she wasn’t one to be forgotten easily. she didn’t have to remind him of that.

as he pulled the chair out for her, she didn’t wait for him to settle into his own place before she took the seat. his gesture was expected, and she had no interest in playing along with his courtesies. the chair was hers now, as everything was.

you wish to know my name, she thought, watching him with an impassive expression. she could tell him. give him the satisfaction. but names were so fleeting. even her own felt like it would slip from his mind before the evening was over. the weight of it would linger only for as long as it took for him to recall it when they next met. "the lady ruqaiyah dayne of starfall," she said at last, her voice assertive. it felt like nothing to her. her name had been spoken a thousand times before, yet here, now, it had a weight to it. she could see him digesting it, mentally cataloguing it alongside the others he’d forgotten so easily.

she extended her hand for him to kiss.

she didn’t care. she didn’t need him to remember her name. what was more interesting was how he looked at her, the way his gaze lingered just long enough to make her skin prickle with the subtle power of it. but there was something else too, something buried beneath his composure. a desire? or simply curiosity? she leaned forward ever so slightly, just enough for him to notice the curve of her neck, the slow, deliberate way she held his gaze.

"most you reachmen forgot your wives the moment you entered dorne."

Tirius didn't dawn a mask when he came here. He didn't want to take part in these games. No. He came down to the day because he wanted to speak with his very pregnant sister. And he was excited to see her doing so well in such a place. He knew the West was very different from the Reach. While she mentioned needing to speak to him, she assured him it didn't involve her feeling in danger and that mattered. He knew what happened to wives who displeased their husbands. He knew women lost their heads quite easily in the West.

The woman across from them caught his attention as he sat up in his chair and picked up the cup. His sister kissed his cheek and bid him farewell, her giant husband trailing behind her dutifully and perhaps drunkenly. He looked over his cup at the woman as she approached him.

Dornish. "I am." He found her to be quite pretty and he wondered to which she belonged and who unmasked her, if it meant she was claimed by another that would seek to pluck out his eyes for their offense. Tirius sat the cup down and almost smiled in amusement. Perhaps she too found herself as drunk as those around them.

"Men forget many things, their homes and wives are often not on the list." At least, many men did not forget their wives and those who forgot their home were the sort who turned traitor and exiled themselves. Exile was much easier than dealing with the Marshall of the Northmarch taking their head.

"May I ask for you name, my lady? I always wish to know who speaks to me of ships and my men." They were Lucrezia's men but she was not here to correct him, so why not entertain the beautiful woman. "There's a chair over here." He held her gaze and pulled the chair out beside him.

who: @halimayronwood what: semi-flashback thread set before the dornish court depart for casterly rock when and where: sunspear, the first time halima and ruqaiyah cross paths since ruqaiyah arrives with baashir from starfall.

ruqaiyah of house dayne did not think about the death rattle anymore; that which had come from human lips rather than the ominous sound that came from the most fearful of serpents - she did not think about the facial expressions that crossed over each of the gargalens upon hearing the news that there had been a body found some leagues away. she only remembered her own body becoming very still that moment, her gaze daring not to meet the gaze she knew would not be looking in her direction.

the indifference was numbing, and it came not from a place of desperate guilt and repression, but rather an avoidance and refusal to take even a hint of responsibility for her actions. ruqaiyah dayne did not think of the blood of farah gargalen upon her hands, because she did not think the blood was ever upon her hands. rather the skirts of her dress at the hands of the girl's own foolishness, how they had called for her to remain in the carriage - how she had reminded her that the terrain this far from the tor was rocky.

"how is having your own space away from armaan?" ruqaiyah asked, a goblet of wine upon her lips as she sat across from the lady halima of house yronwood; if one was the crack, the other was the whip. an endless, vicious cycle of narcissism that continued to swirl, even as they sat across from one another. she were referring to the regency of kingsgrave the lady across from her now held, in the name of two sons of house yronwood - ishaan and kabir.

"a household of your own made up of manwoodys and servants…the same thing, in reality."

"your subjects seem keen to try and listen to our conversation." her tone was louder now, loud enough to ensure the manwoody party and their associates would hear her - calling them subjects, equating halima to their sovereign. it only made her smile more, a callous, immature one. "it is a good thing the heirs of kingsgrave look to a yronwood for their regent. that way, kingsgrave will never be sacked by a vulture king again." and she raised a toast. gods knew joy manwoody only spoke of all the work she needed to do to fix the lands that had been pillaged.

"is it as awful as she made it out to be?"

★

ruqaiyah’s lips curled into a saccharine smile, the kind that never reached her amethyst eyes - eyes that were empty and devoid of any kindness or spark, unless there was the exception of someone speaking about her, giving her attention. "there is one more thing." she spoke, her hand resting beneath her chin as the shimmer of her pale pink silks reflected against the candlelight. she leaned forward slightly, her voice a blend of mockery and feigned curiosity, carefully pitched to carry just enough to be overheard by the lingering courtiers.

“well,” she began, her tone dripping with false sweetness, “i’ve always wondered, with all your vaunted gifts, how you manage to keep your composure. it must be such a burden, knowing the secrets of the stars and the future of us mere mortals.” her eyes sparkled with amusement, though there was an unmistakable edge to her words.

she paused, allowing her gaze to drift over zahra’s elegant form, her lips pursing slightly. “and yet,” she continued, her voice softening to a more contemplative pitch, “i can’t help but recall that unfortunate episode with your sister. such a tragedy, really. when she went missing for those dreadful days. the court was in such an uproar.” ruqaiyah’s smile widened, though it lacked any warmth. “i couldn’t help but wonder at the time—why didn’t you use your gifts then? surely, the stars would have spoken to you, given you some guidance, a hint, at the very least?” she tilted her head, a mock frown creasing her brow as though she were trying to understand.

“or were they silent when it came to something so personal? it does make one question the efficacy of your… abilities.” she leaned back, her posture languid and poised, the picture of dornish grace, her smile never faltering. but still, it were cold and it were entirely fake. her words were meant to hurt; she took enjoyment in seeing a flicker of pain and the realisation of insecurity crossing her face. to put it bluntly, she loved it.

“do not misunderstand me, zahra. your talents are... entertaining. and so many whisper such horrid things about you, that when they pay for your services there is more to what they are paying for. i personally don't think it is so serious - i've always said i think you are merely bored.”

the hum of the hall’s conversation and music seemed to drift away as zahra sat gracefully across from ruqaiyah. the lady’s sharp words, deliberately loud enough to be overheard, hung in the air, but zahra met them with the calm patience she had honed over years of navigating moments like this. her fingers lightly smoothed the edge of her gown before folding neatly in her lap.

“my lady,” zahra said softly, her tone steady and warm, “the stars speak only of what is, not of what may not be. and in what they show, i see no uncertainty in your place beside prince ravi. your union has been spoken of as fact, a bond that seems as secure as the foundations of starfall itself.”

her gaze held the other's, kind and unwavering, as though she could will the other woman to feel the assurance she offered. “but the stars also reflect the weight of responsibility you carry. to stand at the side of a prince is no small thing, nor is it given lightly. what i see in you is strength—a strength both to endure and to lead. such qualities do not go unnoticed, not by the stars, and certainly not by the prince.”

she leaned forward slightly, her voice lowering just enough to add a layer of sincerity to her words. “if there are decisions before you, they are not matters of doubt, my lady, but of opportunity. i see paths that lead to triumph, not uncertainty.” she smiled, small and kind, letting her words linger.

her touch light, zahra traced ruqaiyah’s palm briefly, as if to underline her point. “the stars say nothing of rivals or questions of loyalty. they show only that you are destined to wield great influence, whether it be within the halls of starfall or beyond them.”

she allowed herself a softer tone as she finished. “uou are more than ready for this, my lady. and while the stars may guide, it is your own radiance that will truly illuminate the way forward. have faith in what you already know to be true, i apologize if i cast any misunderstandings.”

her smile lingered, gentle and composed, as if she hoped to ease the tension with her calm. “if there is anything more you seek, my lady, i am here to assist you,” zahra added, her voice imbued with quiet resolve.

★

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."