★

who: @dancingshores when and where: lann's day celebrations within casterly rock, ruqaiyah dayne comes across a nobody who has been climbing the ranks of importance within the court of sunspear. how she hates it.

she had noticed it briefly first, orbs passing over the scene as she found herself engaging in conversation with the hand of king cedric of house tyrell, and then her gaze snapped back to it again.

a familiar figure and voice, all sweetness and honey with long thick dark hair behind a mask; and a head of blonde hair she did not recognise, dancing upon the floor. it was enough to cause her to look upon it, making no attempt to even be subtle; what a scene. this was hardly a surprise, was it? the woman had seemingly given up on her mission of being the most unreliable, detached string in the realm and had instead decided to climb the ranks of court - and climbing the cocks of reachmen.

the music came to a slow as the dance began to end, and she found herself winding her way toward the woman she suspected, and the man that would later be confirmed to be lord gael hightower. and when the dance ended, ruqaiyah had no issue with a slow, sarcastic clap for the duo; slipping right to the side of zahra sand, the dornish court seer.

"amazing." ruqaiyah spoke, her tone gushing in falsehood; and yet, she maintained the gaze of them both. would the reachman see her deceit? no doubt zahra sand would, instantly.

and then she switched to their native tongue, a smooth and seamlessly transition as she feigned a friendly move of putting her hand on zahra's forearm, as though to usher her away. "is the court seer too busy planning on spreading herself on the white man to do the ridiculous job given to you out of pity?" myriam allyrion's favourite pet, was what ruqaiyah called her. all the while, not once did she think of the sister she had left for dead on the borders of the tor. the blood that was never upon her hands.

"i want my palm read. save embarrassing us for later and do your job."

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.

★

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."

Kalank (2019)

★

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."

gif request meme:

@manbunjon requested: asoiaf + favourite location

★

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

★

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?"

★

"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.