★

★

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.

who: @scfeerah when and where: following the arrival of lady dayne and lady jordayne to the court of sunspear, most notably, following the tense interaction between ruqaiyah and devani. what: a good old bitch fest.

it did not take long for the ladies of house dayne and house jordayne to find their skirts wafting through the bustling great domed hall of sunspear, the sound of their anklets being drowned out by the sound of the tabla and the laughter, though there was a silent simmer that lingered between them. the epitome of ancient kinship flowering into something of far more substance, the ladies had always remained inseparable, despite the differences in their nature, temperament and ideology.

"gods, she is going to ruin this for me, isn't she?" ruqaiyah asked, her voice low, but as though she were ready to explode into what could only be seen as a tantrum. "she'll see to it to somehow break the betrothal. or she'll try to have me embarrass myself." the marriage that was supposed to go through between herself and the prince of sunspear.

still, there was none other that would be able to read the mind of the grace of the evening without even having to utter a word. so many fleeting looks, slightly raised brows, and expressions that said all words could not say. and gods knew, if there was a sound that matched this nights situation, it would be the sound of blaring trumpets and shattering glass in the background of knowing looks.

"she was even speaking to the prince." she commented, and there was jealousy laced in her voice. gods knew for what, apart from the idea of devani taking the life that was meant for ruqaiyah. "are they friends? do you know? i had no clue." safeerah constantly trying to get ruqaiyah to stop engaging in the conversation, even if it were to stoop to low levels of malice and utter spite. "why can't she just crawl back to whatever hole she came out of it, and take dante uller's crumbs with her?"

if the situation were less personal for ruqaiyah, she would have found herself giggling at the look which crossed the expression of lady jordayne; one of quiet surprise, as though she did not want to make any sudden movements in the tense interaction. the discussion happened after they retreated to the grand ornate chambers given to the lady of house dayne, and the smoke had been lit using the candles already ignited: she did not wish to fill her sister's room with the smell of smoke, so ruqaiyah leaned out of a window, blowing it out into the night sky before her.

"i should have ignored her. i know you were trying to tell me to ignore her."

★

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 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: @baashirdayne when and where: baashir dayne returns from kings landing, deciding to divert to starfall first. his sister has little inclination of the idea, expecting not to see him for some time longer; that was until a sudden flurry of dayne guards came into the courtyard right beneath her balcony.

the smoke was between her fingers, against her lips as she inhaled and exhaled into the night sky; the sound of her bangles gently twinkling in the night sky. the eldest lady of starfall had been desperate for a smoke for the majority of the evening, and considering her mother had only left her chambers some moments ago, she practically flung herself onto the balcony. first ensuring none were in the courtyard, she used a candle to ignite her smoke, and relished in the peace. finally. why did her mother bother asking her for her opinion if she would not take it?

she was exhaling again, when there was a sudden flurry of horses stampeding through the smaller courtyard; horses, the flag of house dayne, and she found herself practically faltering backward at the sudden movement.

"shit." she muttered, her eyes briefly meeting with baashir dayne's for a split second: what was he doing back here? was he not supposed to go straight back to sunspear as first minister? had he seen her with the smoke in her hand? it was now lowered at her side, and as he entered into the grand keep, she knew her mother and the household fawning over him would buy her some time.

when he entered, she took the opportunity to drop the smoke - if anyone asked, she would blame one of the guards travelling onward to sunspear. slipping her lilac robe over her rose coloured nightgown, she opened her door, beginning to make her way down the halls. the peacocks were calling, almost as though they knew he was back. and then he turned a corner, where she met him half way.

"bhaiya!" ruqaiyah exclaimed, her voice feigning excitement. it wasn't that she wasn't happy to see him. but had he seen her smoking? "why did you not tell us you were coming back?" she asked, placing her hands together in the symbol of peace before reaching forward to embrace him, kissing his cheek.

"i would have ensured dinner would be served later. it is too late now, you need not put on even more weight for eating at this time." her words were casual, looking up at him. "you must be so tired."

★

ruqaiyah tilted her head, her earrings catching the low light as if to emphasize her. always her. the hubbub of the ball carried on around them, but in ruqaiyah’s mind, the room had narrowed to this singular, unwelcome confrontation. devani’s nonchalance was a far cry from the reckless, thoughtless girl she remembered. ruqaiyah didn’t know whether to find it amusing or infuriating. perhaps both.

“oh, how enlightening,” ruqaiyah purred, the sweetness in her tone so cloying it was venomous. “you don’t know why you’re here. typical devani, fluttering in like a moth to flame without thinking about what you might burn.” her lips curved into a smile so perfect it might have graced a painting, though her eyes remained cold.

she smoothed the silken folds of her gown, deliberately elegant, her nails glittering with gemstones as she waved off devani’s comment. “you speak of clinging as if it’s a fault. and yet here you are, circling back to things you claim to have let go.” she leaned closer, her voice dropping to a low murmur meant only for devani.

“you don’t really let go, devani. you just run. a habit, it seems, you’ve yet to break.”

she paused for a moment, dragging her amethyst orbs across devani's face and her frame. it were intentional; and if she had little pride or self respect, she would happily let devani toland take care of her in a range of manners.

pulling back, ruqaiyah laughed lightly, a sound utterly at odds with the tension between them. “but how silly of me. we’re not here to dig up old grievances, are we? we’re grown women now. mature, as they say.” her eyes sparkled with mockery. “so, tell me,” she continued, taking a sip from her goblet as if this were all a game she was winning, “what’s it like, proving you can still get it? how does my attention make you feel, fool of fools?"

"what can i say? i have always been a giver," devani smiled sweetly, though there was just as much sarcasm in her tone as in ruqaiyah's. her eyes followed the arc over ruqaiyah's shoulder, into the path of those stood behind her, and devani offered them an apologetic glance.

it was not true. for most of her life, devani had given little, but she had took, and she took, and then moved on before any could ask anything of her in return. the habits of a lifetime were not so easily broken. "and what is the alternative, ruqaiyah? to cling to everything that i have ever held in my hands and get dragged down under the weight of it all?" perhaps she was too quick to let things go, but at least she was letting go at all. looking at ruqaiyah, she knew how she would rather be.

she paused for a second, mulling over ruqaiyah's words. she was not privy to the coffers of ghost hill, her mother and brother trusting her not with such matters. was that why aditya had done what he did? no, she did not think so. he was an arrogant fool, but not utterly stupid. "that can't be it. even aditya knows that is no way to get a woman's dowry." she spoke not as if ruqaiyah was trying to insult her, but as though they were discussing this normally, rationally.

"it is amusing," she insisted. "and it's silly. all this fuss over something you will never wear again. why does it matter to you so much?" it was the question she had never quite gotten the answer to. the things that seemed so irrelevant, so meaningless to devani always seemed to be of the utmost importance to ruqaiyah. perhaps it was a side effect of living the life that was expected to live, and never broadening her horizons beyond that.

ruqaiyah posed a question of her own, and for a moment, devani struggled with the answer. there really wasn't one, or at least, not one that would satisfy. "i don't know," she admitted. "perhaps just to prove that i still can get it."

★

ruqaiyah leaned back against the stone wall of the balcony, the familiar scent of her cigarette filling the air. the weight of the conversation was heavy, but she was careful to maintain her composure. her eyes, though, were sharp—sharper than they had ever been, especially as she listened to safeerah's words. justice, safeerah said. revenge, she hadn’t said, but it was there, lurking just beneath the surface. ruqaiyah knew that. they both knew it.

"justice," ruqaiyah echoed, her voice lightly tinged with disbelief. "and you think that will ease everything? what exactly are you going to tell the people of dorne, safeerah? that your house took down a man—aditya toland of all people—and that the rest of the world would bow to you for it?" ruqaiyah took another drag, blowing the smoke out slowly, her gaze shifting across the horizon. se was unaware if she sounded dismissive, or scathing.

"you’re too soft for that, you know. there’s no honor in waiting for a tribunal, not when you've got the power to settle things yourself."

her tone was sharp, more than it should have been, but it was the truth to ruqaiyah dayne. they both knew it. it was easy for safeerah to say she wanted justice the right way, but ruqaiyah couldn't help but wonder if that was just a way to cling to some illusion of fairness. in the real world, fairness was often a luxury. it was a commodity to be traded, not a virtue. "yousound just like savita," ruqaiyah continued, her voice lowering slightly. "moping about in all of this. it's not who we are, safeerah. we're stronger than that. wear your power. use it. that's the only thing that matters. a lady of an entire yourself, you lucky thing."

ruqaiyah paused, letting her words sink in. she could see the flash of pain in safeerah's eyes, but she wasn’t sure if it was from her words or from the constant pressure that came with being the leader of the tor now. she hated that it was safeerah’s burden, but someone had to carry it. "you don’t need to be this... soft, safeerah. i know you have it in you to lead. but stop pretending you're only seeking justice. what you want is revenge. and that’s okay. you deserve to be able to come down on it all." ruqaiyah’s gaze flickered to the other side of the balcony, a part of her always alert, always calculating. "and bash can do to aditya toland what he done to dante uller." the landscape stretched out before them, a reminder of just how much power safeerah could wield, if only she'd stop questioning it.

she took another slow drag from her cigarette, eyeing her cousin more closely. "and speaking of things you want, what’s this about love? i still don’t get it. what do you see in a man, safeerah? someone who can make you swoon like that myrish dancer?" ruqaiyah let out a short, sarcastic laugh. "you can’t be serious. you want someone with passion? fine, but you also need someone who understands the world. not some fool who will get you into trouble with his ‘artistic heart.’ artists are living from payment to payment, and are pretty much without income."

she flicked the ash from her cigarette, her face hardening, as if she’d already made her judgment. "you want power. you want security. you want someone who gets it. not some fool who’ll spend all his time serenading you. trust me, i know." ruqaiyah’s eyes darkened, remembering her own situation with ravi. it was an alliance, not love, and she had learned the hard way that it was better that way. "and then there's me," ruqaiyah added with a sharp smile. "i'll find someone for you, once you've handled your little jester problem. a man who knows what it means to rule. someone who'll keep you safe, while you make your mark on the tor." she paused, glancing at safeerah. "just don’t get lost in your fantasies, cousin. the world isn’t that simple."

ruqaiyah’s eyes softened for a moment, the smoke from her cigarette rising and vanishing into the night air. there was so much more she wanted to say, but she kept her thoughts to herself. safeerah needed to think, needed to decide what kind of woman she wanted to be. but in the end, they both knew what needed to be done. "armaan yronwood."

safeerah studied her friend curiously, unsure if ruqaiyah could really have done such a thing if her old flame had showed up at her doorstep, but there was no point in digging. the jordayne knew the other well enough to know that if she wanted her to know something, she'd say it. she did not want to think about devani, about the tolands. the subject only fuelled the unfamiliar anger inside her. but she did note of ruqayiah's words about not trusting devani. yet it was not so simple. ghost hill would remain even after aditya lost his head, the tor, and ghost hill would still share a border. sometimes, often in the darkest hours of the night, she thought about erasing the border altogether. if she was ready for war, she could double her lands in size, remove the threat of the tolands forever. but at what cost? she could not bear the thought of seeing men slaughtered, families broken, all because of her own anger. and there was still the matter of the volantis to be dealt with. she did not plan to let them escape without ensuring justice for rashid either, although that matter was much more complicated. “i will keep it in mind. you know i'd rather not have to trust a toland ever again.” saf could promise her oldest friend that, but she could promise more than that. she had to walk whatever path showed itself.

she had to agree with her cousin. she hated to see her mother hurt, to hear her weep for the son lost, for the daughter traumatised. safeerah remembered the look on her mother's face when she had told her eldest daughter that the future of their house was her responsibility now, that she was sorry she had to carry it. and saf had wept then and begged the gods to send rashid back to them. “because bad people still exist.” their ill fortune had been the direct consequence of the decisions of people who had no love in their hearts. then qaiyah spoke of bash just ending aditya's life, but saf quickly shook her head. “no, i want justice the right way. i want him to be condemned by his peers. i want everyone to hear what kind of man he is.” not just in dorne, but beyond their borders as well. safeerah could claim she was purely after justice, but she also knew deep in her heart that was not true. she said none of this to ruqiayah though, but she seemed to already know that justice and revenge had started to overlap for saf.

a dark cloud had fallen on her as she spoke of the tolands, but she let out a weak laugh, allowing herself to be distracted. “have mercy on them, qaiyah, halima might be worse than the most fearsome guard dog.” she smiled then, her eyes as soft as her words. if there was one thing safeerah knew she did well, it was filling her friend with confidence. perhaps ru had no need for it, but that had never stopped her from doing it before. “why would he want anyone else when he has you? there are none in dorne, or even in westeros, who can outshine you.” the words were easy for her to say, and she did also believe them, but she knew that the heart worked in mysterious ways. even saf was pressed to admit that being with one person for the rest of life seemed a difficult task. she had plenty of love in her heart, more than one person would ever need. she also knew ru's impending wedding was not one of love, it was a deal, an alliance, and that made it easier for either of them to stray.

speaking of marriage, she cast aside the gloom and grinned while she pretended to think about it. “alright, fine, but you better find me someone handsome.” safeerah knew that she'd had to marry soon. she was not against the idea at all. she did crave a partner, an equal, someone to share the burden of ruling the tor with. but she hoped that there was room for love in her marriage, and she also hoped her future husband would accept certain freedoms in their marriage. “do you remember that dancer from myr? with the scar across his eye? someone like him. he had so many talents.” safeerah smirked before letting out a bright laugh. it was no secret among those closest to her that she had taken him to her bed after his performances. he travelled with her to the tor, and extended his stay multiple times, before continuing on his tour. “i want someone who has a passion that drives them, someone who devotes themselves to their call in life.”

High School Musical 2 (2007)

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?"