ruqaiyahdayne

Latest Posts by ruqaiyahdayne

★

ruqaiyah blinked, once, twice, as if trying to process whether the noise entering her ears could possibly be real. she did not deign to respond at first. instead, she turned fully around again—this time with the deliberate, theatrical elegance of a stage-trained courtesan—just to face the girl properly. the girl in question, with her feathered sleeves and painfully under-accessorised neckline in her own opinion, had the gall to smile. smile, as if this were some quaint misunderstanding between friends and not a textile crime punishable by exile.

“you think—” ruqaiyah began, then laughed. not the sweet kind. the sort that was brittle and glittering and unmistakably cruel, like glass breaking under a jewelled heel.

“oh, she’s one of those, is she? sweetling, if you genuinely believe my outfit is the issue here, then i fear we’re dealing with something more severe than clumsiness. we’re talking... mental defect.” she smiled sweetly, venom curling in every syllable. “and here i was thinking the reach only grew bland herbs and boring men. but no—they’re harvesting delusions now.” her tone had risen with each sentence, enough that a few girls nearby glanced over nervously, but ruqaiyah was not done. her blood was humming now, giddy with spite.

she gave a loud, emphatic tch and turned back to the stage, swiping her silky hair over her shoulder in the most pointed manner imaginable and not caring if it perhaps gets in the way of her face. her bangles clinked with regal finality. the concert, she decided, would now belong to her entirely. and so, as bard bieber launched into what do you mean, ruqaiyah lifted her voice. it was high. it was nasal. it was deliberate. “WHEN YOU NOD YOUR HEAD YES, BUT YOU WANNA SAY NO—” she all but began to bellow, slightly off the beat, swaying with renewed vigour - as though she could be the only one who deserves bard bieber's attention.

her hips collided with the girl’s side as though by accident, her perfume—jasmine, oud, something expensive and cloying—billowing like an attack. “WHAT DO YOU MEANNNN!” she sung again, louder, and tossed a look over her shoulder with a smile that was all teeth.

ruqaiyah shifted slightly to the left, blocking more of the girl’s view. a subtle manoeuvre, perfectly executed. she raised her hands dramatically as if summoning the gods themselves. the pearls on her sleeves caught the torchlight, blinding in their beauty. “oh, you can see?” she called sweetly, not bothering to turn this time. “how marvellous. perhaps next time you’ll look before you trample a legacy. if you know anything about real pearls.” because that was what it was, wasn’t it? not a dress. not merely fashion. dornish couture. the height of design, the apex of taste. stitched in starfall, where sun and salt kissed the hands of women more talented than anyone in this room could comprehend.

it wasn’t a gown—it was lineage. it was blood and silk and status. and she—whatever her name was—she had stepped on it like it was laundry. less fabric. hmfsh. ruqaiyah sniffed. she sang louder. the girl didn’t exist anymore. she was no longer relevant to the evening’s story. ruqaiyah had reclaimed the spotlight—and in her mind, it had never left her to begin with.

the music at the verdant concord was nearly deafening, a fever dream of strings and stomping feet and shrieking girls—matilda tyrell among them. she had not intended to get close to the stage, truly, but one glass of arbor wine had turned into three, and bard bieber’s return was, after all, a cultural event. a moment. and matilda was nothing if not timely.

she was mid-step, hands lifted slightly as she swayed in rhythm, gracefully, of course, when her heel caught on something soft and unfamiliar. there was the telltale sound of silk straining, the faintest tug beneath her boot, and then: a voice, sharper than a sandstepped blade.

“i beg your pardon?”

matilda turned, startled, brows lifting as she came face to face with a vision in lavender and lip gloss, radiant and wrathful, the embodiment of stage-front devotion. matilda blinked, instantly registering the horror. her heel had found its way to the trailing hem of the other woman’s gown, and judging by the way the other was glaring at her, one might think she’d torn the fabric with her teeth.

“i promise you, it wasn’t carelessness. i was just… using my eyes for the concert, not for my feet.” a faint, almost rueful smile tugged at her lips. “a poor strategy, as it turns out.”

she stepped back, careful now, hands lifted slightly, not dramatic, just deliberate. “i didn’t mean to step on you. or it. i swear that wasn’t, i wouldn’t.”

her gaze flicked down to the train, a scatter of tiny pearls catching in the folds of silk. matilda’s brows knit together, lips pressed briefly before she spoke again. this time, softer. “it really is beautiful. i should’ve been more careful. if it’s damaged, i can have it mended. i know someone in oldtown who does embroidery so fine it could fool the gods themselves. it’ll be returned to you better than it was, if you'd like.”

a pause, then a small laugh. “though if this is how crowded it gets for a bard bieber return...perhaps next time, something with less fabric to endanger?” her brows lifted, teasing, but her tone stayed warm. “not that I’d dream of telling you what to wear. only that I’d prefer we both make it through the next chorus dancing, without incident.”

10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU 1999 — dir. Gil Junger

★

ruqaiyah did not reply at once, though her silence was anything but demure. instead, she blinked—once, slowly—and tilted her head the way one might when presented with a painting one could not yet decide was genius or simply grotesque. he stood there, now in gold, his silhouette haloed in the buttery candlelight, and for the first time this evening, she allowed herself to consider him properly. not just ravi, the boy who once stained her favourite sandals by kicking mud into the lilies, but prince ravi—taller than memory, and with that particular manner of standing that suggested he knew exactly how to command a room. even barefoot. even smug.

"lady ru is never early. everyone else is merely late."

she nodded, eventually, just once, a gesture so small it could have been missed were one not watching her the way he was. that flicker in his eye—was it amusement? something fonder? ruqaiyah wasn’t sure. she didn’t like being unsure. she preferred certainty. absolutes. like the perfect shade of pink for her lips, or the fact that no man who arrived without fanfare could be considered properly on time. “that sundial is skewed,” she said mildly, stepping through the doorway as he held it open, her lehenga whispering across the polished stone floor. “besides, a man should prepare for the unexpected. if you are ready only at the appointed hour, then you are already late.”

she glanced back over her shoulder as she passed him, pausing just by the chair. she didn’t sit. not yet. she waited, lips curled ever so slightly as she looked at him from beneath thick lashes. would he remember his manners? would he understand that power, real power, often lay in the smallest of courtesies? he did. when he pulled the chair open, she gave a satisfied hum and lowered herself onto it with grace that could curdle queens. she propped her chin on her hand and looked up at him. “you should always wear gold,” she said with mild approval, letting her eyes linger a little longer than necessary. “it reminds people you’re important. even if you forget it yourself.”

then, as if moved by nothing more than a passing breeze, she added, “by the way… someone said something rather strange about you the other day.” her tone remained light, idle even, but her eyes sharpened, subtly, like a blade hidden in satin. she let the sentence hang between them for a moment, watching him through lowered lashes. “quite strange, really. almost… intriguing.” she patted the table, a smile crossing over her glowy features, a hint of shimmer reflecting upon as the sun rays hit her face. she found it important, to ensure not only her outfit, but her face shimmered too.

her finger idly traced the rim of her goblet. “but perhaps i shouldn’t repeat it,” she mused. “you know how people are—always whispering, always inventing. and yet…” she trailed off with a shrug, elegant and unbothered, “...every rumour starts somewhere.” she wasn’t sure if there was truth to it—whatever it was. the rumour had been half-formed, little more than a sliver of gossip overheard through silkscreen partitions and perfume-drenched courtyards. she didn’t even care what it meant, really. what mattered was the reaction. did he have something to hide? or was his poise simply that: a performance refined over years, polished until even discomfort gleamed like calm?

ravi didn’t bristle. he didn’t laugh, either. he simply watched her—chin tilted ever so slightly, eyes warm, patient, amused in the way a man is when a storm meets him at the door and he decides to let it in.

“i see,” he said softly, as though she hadn’t just dressed him down in a tone that could curdle milk. “then it’s a good thing you came early. gives me time to make a proper greeting.”

he let his hand fall without frustration, merely folding it behind his back with the other, as if to say: very well, try again later. his smile, however, remained—slanted, thoughtful, a touch brighter than it had been moments ago. the flutter of her lehenga had caught the sun through the archway and thrown a kaleidoscope across the tiles. and here she was, unimpressed and luminous. of course she hadn’t taken his hand.

his gaze flicked toward the archway again. “bring the gold kurta,” he called, voice smoother now, low and even. “and sandals. not the ones with the jade buckles, plain leather.”

in mere moments, the servants appeared. one draped the fine gold kurta over his shoulders, a rich silk that caught the candlelight with a quiet shimmer, while the other knelt to slide soft leather sandals onto his feet. their movements were practiced, reverent. ravi stood still for it all, gaze still on her, unbothered by the ritual, as if it were no more personal than donning armor before a battle he didn’t intend to lose.

when they finished, he gave a single nod. they bowed low, and without a word more, slipped from the room, the sound of their departure hushed like a turning page.

he rolled one shoulder, adjusting the fall of the fabric. “acceptable?” he asked, not without a flicker of mischief. the gold brought warmth to his skin, the embroidery subtle but deliberate, fit for a prince, yes, but also for her.

“now, i’m ready,” he said with a soft chuckle, his tone a touch lighter. ravi stood still, watching ruqaiyah as she considered him, her posture still as a marble statue. the silence stretched between them, thick with the weight of her coolness, and ravi’s expression softened into something quieter, more genuine.

dark gaze drifted over to the small sundial perched in the corner of the room. the shadow had shifted just enough to catch his attention, and for the briefest moment, he studied it, the subtle arc of time catching his eye. his expression shifted into a quiet amusement as he realized the truth.

"well, it seems i was on time after all," he said, glancing back at her with a playful glint in his eyes. "it’s exactly the time we agreed to meet, you know." he gestured to the sundial with a soft chuckle. “i suppose i’m not as tardy and unprepared as i made myself out to be.”

he cleared his throat, his smile warm, a little teasing. “i didn’t mean to offend you,” he said, his voice low but light. “i suppose i’ve gotten a little used to this,” he gestured to the room around them, and the pipe still resting on a nearby table, “.would you prefer i not smoke at all tonight? i never imagined it would bother you.”

he motioned toward the doorway that led into the next room, where the meal would be set. “as for the meal.” he continued, “spiced lamb, roasted vegetables, honeyed dates... all served with a wine from the hills of dorne. i think you’ll find it quite delightful.” his eyes met hers, “though, if you had something else in mind, i would have been happy to prepare whatever you preferred.”

who: @cfthornsandroses when and where: the verdant concord. context: bard bieber is performing his first show in years.

ruqaiyah had never been more radiant—at least, not this week. the great hall of highgarden had been draped in ivory silks and strewn with floral garlands that hung like lazy serpents from the beams, but truly, the decoration was incidental. the true centrepiece was her. ruqaiyah dayne stood near the front of the crowd, surrounded by sweating, desperate girls and the occasional knight too proud to admit he knew every word to bard bieber’s ballads. she, of course, did know every word. bard bieber was an institution. a cultural reckoning. the last time she had cried tears of joy, it was because he had winked in her direction during a performance in sunspear. and now—now—he was singing baby, and ruqaiyah was transcending.

the moment the minstrels plucked out the opening chords of sorry, she let out an excited gasp that would’ve embarrassed anyone who didn’t already think she was the centre of the realm. her bangles jangled as she lifted both hands dramatically to the ceiling. “you gotta go and get angry at all of my honesty—” she wailed, completely off-key and completely unbothered.

her silk was lavender tonight, barely-there and stitched with tiny mother-of-pearl beads. it shimmered like moonlight, the train pooling behind her like a spilled potion. she danced in place, twirling slightly to the rhythm, her hips swaying far more suggestively than the tempo required. “i know you know that i made those mistakes maybe once or twice,” she half-sung, half-declared, eyes fluttering closed. she tilted her head back, lip-glossed mouth open in heartfelt sincerity. "by once or twice, i mean maybe a couple of hundred times,” she crooned.

and then - disaster.

her heel stopped short. a jolt tugged backwards through her skirt. her eyes snapped open, fury already flooding her veins. she spun. someone—some painfully reach looking, dreadfully mannered girl—was standing directly behind her, her own heel planted on the silk like she’d confused it for a wine spill. ruqaiyah's jaw dropped in disbelief. “i beg your pardon?” she snapped, voice as sharp and clipped as the edge of a broken mirror. “do you—do you have eyes in that sweet little head of yours, or are they decorative?”

the girl blinked, clearly startled. ruqaiyah narrowed her eyes. “you just murdered a train of imported silk from lys, and you’re standing there like a startled sheep at a harvest fair.” she clicked her tongue, tugging the fabric back with a flourish. she yanked her train free with a dramatic flourish, setting her clutch down on a nearby table as if ready to get into a catfight. “this is bard bieber, not a barn dance,” she muttered, fixing the girl with a stare sharp enough to sheer wool. “if you’re going to hover, learn to hover with grace.”

★

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 let out a breath that came out more like a laugh—sharp, breathless, incredulous. "you weren’t made for one place?” her voice turned cold and lilting, as if she were entertaining a joke no one else was in on. “you weren’t made for it, so we were born to sit and wait for you to flutter off and find your next whim?"” her chest rose and fell rapidly now, but her posture was still perfect, held together by the sheer force of her ego and the fact she knew she looked good. she had lost inches on her waist, as seen by her newest dress; devani would eat her words.

“that's not FAIR, you make it sound like i had you CHAINED!” she continued, tone curdling into something mock-sweet as her voice continued to rise - and despite the fact she were furious, she also loved the fact she had devani here in this moment. arguing with her, giving her full attention.

“you were in my house, you wore my clothes, you sat on my bed. you let me braid your hair while you told me—promised me—that i was the one person who understood you. and you’re telling me now, that you left because you were sixteen and had stuff on your mind?” she took a step back, her arms crossing tightly over her chest. her nails dug into her own arms, but she didn’t care. she wanted to feel it. wanted to ground herself in anything other than the ache that was pulling at her ribs. there was something in her voice now that even she could not quite contain. a tremble, brittle and buzzing with humiliation.

"you don’t get to call me dramatic when you made me feel like i was mad. like i had imagined the whole thing. you said you’d never leave me. you said—” she bit the words back like they were acid. “you said i was the only one who saw you.” her voice cracked, just once, and she swallowed hard, eyes narrowed in fury at her own weakness.

“and don’t you dare stand there and call me a child when you ran off like some storm-chaser desperate to be anywhere but with me.” her mouth twisted, lips gleaming like lacquered anger. “you wanted me, devani. you chose me. you told me things—things you didn’t have to say. and then what? you got bored? you spotted a guardsman and thought, oh, let me just vanish like i was never here?” she tilted her head, eyes glinting, voice rising suddenly. “I SAW YOU. THAT IS WHY YOU LEFT. BECAUSE OF DANTE ULLER AND THAT GUARD.”

devani's head was shaking. she was never a woman prone to anger. there was much that could be said to her, and she would simply laugh it off, make a joke of it, adopt it as part of her persona, if she found enough flattery in the unflattering. getting her to this point, where impatience took over, where irritation flickered in the dark hue of her eyes, took a particular skill that only ruqaiyah had ever seemed to have mastered. she wielded words as her brother did his sword, giving no space in the conversation for devani's words to settle, and so devani did not either. she would not stop to give ruqaiyah's words any consideration, would not do anything beyond dig her heels in, and refuse to see anything beyond her own point.

ruqaiyah demanded submission, and devani would not give it to her.

there was no more deflection, no more poking and twisting. instead, devani made a sound in the back of her throat, dismissive and derisive. "would you listen to yourself, ruqaiyah," she snapped, her exasperation bleeding into her tone. "you think i dream of a life like yours? get real." it was her own arrogance showing now, the knowledge that the life ruqaiyah claimed to want could have been hers, many times. if not in dorne, in essos, where lovers had come and gone so often she had lost track. she could have had it, only to devani, it was not an honour, but a shackle around her ankles.

and she saw it clearly, now ; that ruqaiyah would have chained her, too, if she had chosen to stay. it would have suffocated her, would have made her chafe against the commitment she had made to her as much as it had rubbed her raw when she had been married. in that moment, she had never been more certain of her choices. "yes, i do expect you to accept it," she said, a hand going to her forehead in her frustration. "perhaps that is too much to ask, though, since that would involve you coming to terms with the fact that people have more going on in their lives than you, ruqaiyah, and that is something you will never do. it's like talking to a child."

ruqaiyah closed the gap between them, the two of them practically nose to nose, and devani's hands dropped to her side. there was no humour in her expression, the laughing mockery absent from her eyes. "i left," she confirmed. "because we were sixteen years old, ru. and even then, it was obvious..." she trailed off, what exactly was obvious never making it passed her lips. she had meant what she said, at the time, but she had always been flightly, the unloved child of house toland, unable to ever commit to any bond she had ever made. "i wasn't made for any one place." was all she offered by way of explanation. any one place, any one person. she had always grown restless in the end.

she could have apologised. it would not be the first time she said something she didn't mean, driven by self-preservation. there was no pride in devani toland, and she did not mind making herself look the fool. it would be easy to beg forgiveness, but she wouldn't, because for ruqaiyah dayne, it would never be enough. "keep wishing," she said, simply. "the worst is long behind me."

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.

"oh god, who is disturbing ru at early early time of the morning?"

Me core

Spaceballs (1987) dir. Mel Brooks

★

ruqaiyah’s gaze did not falter. not once. she held herself with the same effortless poise that had been honed since birth, but beneath it—beneath the careful drape of silks and the steady weight of amethyst upon her wrists—there was something brittle. something that had yet to crack but threatened to, beneath the unbearable absurdity of it all. why were they doing this? she knew why she was doing this; because she would keep doing it, until she felt like her point had gotten across.

until devani felt like the most awful individual walking this land; and so in all their frustration, she barely took a moment to even fully listen to devani's words, constantly close to talking over her and doing so multiple times.

“you know me? are you dense?” her voice was light, conversational almost, as if amused by a foolish remark at court. “you know me yet you stand there, telling me my life is the reason i am angry with your decision. well my life is perfect, more perfect than you could ever even dream to get close to.” she exhaled sharply, glancing away, not because she was uncertain, but because devani toland had always been exhausting. she had always been insufferable, with her hunger for something more, for something beyond their shores, for a life that did not include ruqaiyah dayne. and that—that was what burned. it was not the leaving, nor even the years between them. it was this.

this moment, where devani stood before her, unwavering, as though she had not done something unforgivable. "you expect me to simply—what? accept that you do not understand why i am angry? as though i am the one being unreasonable?" her head tilted, and she let out a short, sharp breath, something caught between disbelief and scorn. "you knew exactly what you were doing, then and now." her voice rose, shrill and cutting, serrated with the weight of years left unspoken.

her hands clenched, nails digging into her palms, her breath quickening despite herself. "you. left." the words came hot, half lurching herself forward and stamping onto the ground as though she were a child having a tantrum. "you left me, and you never looked back for me. you left me, after agreeing that we would always have one another. you left me, after telling me there was no reason for you to look anywhere else. and now you return, not even with an apology, as some pathetic, empty carcass of yourself?" she took a step forward, close enough that she could see the flicker of something—something—in devani’s eyes. but it was not enough. nothing would be enough. "and you BLAME me?"

ruqaiyah had never wanted to beg for anything. she had never needed to. but gods, she hated the way her heart clenched as she awaited an answer. she hated that it mattered at all. "i hated you for this then, and i hate you for this now." she felt embarrassed, as though she had found herself tripping and entirely diving head first into some fantasy world she had made up in her head; only she had been told it was not made up. she had confirmed it for her, then she had embarrassed her. the feeling was a burning one, that of regret and embarrassment. "i will always hate you. i'll have you know, i wish you the worst. and more."

devani tilted her head slightly, studying with an intensity that had last been seen in her face long ago, suddenly more solemn. it was not the look of someone who had listened to ruqaiyah's word, and felt hurt or slighted by them. no ; when devani's lips parted, it was an expression of concern, as though she understood that she had pushed things too far.

and yet, was that not part of the issue? she could not help but push and poke. with everyone else in her life, she had been content to leave and be forgotten, to know her time in their life was brief. it was not the same with ruqaiyah, and she knew not why. perhaps because she had been the first, perhaps because her sudden departure, a decade and a half ago, had left no opportunity to close the door on what it was between them. it was not that this was the first time devani had to look in the face of someone she had left behind, for she had thought of ruqaiyah in the moments between departing and returning, the potential of whispered promises stamped on her in ways she did not care to admit aloud.

do you understand i would have done anything for you? do you understand what it is you have lost?

"i don't know of it," she conceded. "but i know you." ruqaiyah could pretend that she did not, that she had changed and grown beyond devani's recognition, but looking at her now, devani did not think that so. not in the way she acted, the way the wounds devani had given her still seemed to be raw in the way they were when she left, the way she sought to inflict wounds of her own rather than to understand.

"perhaps i am never satisfied." she would not deny the way whenever she came close to finding familiar, she ran from it, that she had never once settled before once again taking flight. it would be pointless. and still, a wry smile painted itself on her face. "do you think you'll fare better?" she asked, once again unable to stop herself from digging further. "that you won't look back on your own life with regret? maybe you already do. you are angry with me for leaving, because you wish you would have, too." despite her travels, the people she had known, devani still found herself unable to truly grasp the heart of the matter, and so instead, she flipped it into terms she could understand, into how she would feel if she were in ruqaiyah's shoes - jealous that the other had the courage to take their life into their own hands, rather than the alternative.

she did not know how to make it different. it was not even that she expected to pick up where they had left things. she were a fool, but not that much of one. it was simply that something was better than nothing - and what existed between them now, the tension and bitterness, wasn't nothing. it was as though they weren't fighting over old hurt, but the very idea that it had ever existed at all.

"as sure as i am that you would get great pleasure from seeing me on my knees," she drawled, unable to stop herself from making things suggestive. "it won't be the ending of me, ru. i've been there. i've done it, and come out the other end. but you... you stagnated. you're still where i left you."

★

ruqaiyah's smile did not waver, though something within it shifted, like silk catching the light just so, revealing a different texture beneath; it were not one of anger, nor even of the sting of wounded pride, but rather one of feeling as though a blow had come to her stomach. "what, you think it a slight to look at me have a place for myself, and act as though it is not you that is the outlier between us?" as though it were dawn itself which had cut away the corset which seemed to hold her together, stitch by stitch; and ruqaiyah did not know what happened when stars burned. combusted, and yet, she felt it weigh heavily upon her at simple words. "do you understand i would have done anything for you? do you understand what it is you have lost?" the fervent loyalty and dedication of the daynes was a birthright; and somewhere along the years, ruqaiyah found herself thinking herself sworn. devoted. she were no knight, and devani was no princess; and yet, it felt like she should have been. in anoher life, perhaps.

and yet - i'm not talking about you and i, ru. just you - was enough to cause her mind to twist.

it were no revelation: there needed to be no sounds of hymns or mantras, nor the ringing of holy bells, or red powder placed between her brows. there was no moment of being awakened, nor no moment of realisation: for she knew. she had always known, and yet the words of devani toland had been made into something they were not in the mind of the grace of the evening...who held such little grace, in reality. there had never been a devani and ruqaiyah. her fingers brushed idly over the rings on her hand, turning them in place, a gesture of lazy indulgence. but in her mind, she were all but bubbling, spiraling; a concoction of toxic substances, brimming over, and there was no stopping the way it burned her hands too when it spilled.

"you speak of my betrothal as though you know of it. you don't. you speak as though it is me whose parents could not stand my presence, and shipped me between various vassal houses. it was not." she had just said it. whether devani noticed it, was something she was no longer privy to; no longer was she able to tell anything. and it angered her. "you return because this is home, devani. and no matter how far you ran, it was always waiting for you." she folded her arms across her silverish coloured blouse, amethyst encrusted bangles glittering as did the pink jewels in her dark tresses.

"you were never satisfied, always wanting more... everything you made for yourself, and in the end, you just...come back. to do what exactly?" she looked at devani there, her nose slightly twisting in judgement: as if to ask, is that supposed to be something special? was devani toland not always supposed to be more than the cage they had all decided to call home? what ever happened to you? "i do not wish to step away. i wish to watch what will become of you. you will end up hating what has become of your life each passing day, doing something you hate. and you know - i am glad for it." there was no anger in her voice, only the cool, effortless confidence of a woman who had never doubted her place in the world.

ruqaiyah dayne did not need to chase after meaning, after purpose—it had been bestowed upon her from birth, and she had embraced it with open arms. it were abundantly clear that, considering devai could not admit her wrongs and put aside her pride, there would be no way to recover the tense relations between the two women. so what now? would she open her mouth to ruin her chances? would she prove to be an issue for her at court? would she attempt to find her way into ravi's bed in an attempt to get in his ear? her mind started whirring, fixating. hating. craving. how could she just be done with her? how did it not bother her, as much as it made ruqaiyah wish to scream into her pillow? why had she not needed her the way ruqaiyah needed her?

"your destruction impacts none more than yourself. when i find you on your knees, i will find great pleasure in the silence you get from me. only then will i forget you."

devani's laugh was soft this time, warm as summer as untroubled. "you speak of me clinging to things that do not exist, but look at yourself, ru. what has changed for you since we were girls? you are still in the same place you were." there was no mockery in her tone - instead, something that danced closer to pity. devani may not have spent the last fourteen years in dorne, but she had not spent them idle. when age etched lines on her face and her body began to fail her, she could say that her youth was not one wasted. ruqaiyah was of the stars, burning stationary and untouchable in the heavens above, but devani was a comet, burning a fiery trail behind her to remind those whose lives she blazed through of her very existence.

"i don't want to replant them." her words were firm. "i do not want to go back to the way things were before i left, or else i may as well have not left at all." she had never spoken to ruqaiyah, to anybody, about what had drove her decision to disappear, one of the many secrets she kept close to her chest. "your brother will kill mine. i'm banking on that. and when he is dead, ghost hill will look to his heir. he will pay the price for his actions. i'm just here to see what's left when he does."

it was more honesty than she had offered to anybody about her re-emergence. even dante uller had not managed to coax the truth of it from her like this.

"i'm not talking about you and i, ru. just you." because that was another truth that ruqaiyah seemed determined to bury. no matter how hard she tried to reduce devani's place in her life to that of a bedmate of her youth, it did not change any of it. "ravi martell is a good man." she said, finally. "and far sharper than you give him credit for by pretending there is nothing to tell. do you think it will take him long to note that you enjoy his title far more than his presence in your bed? to piece together why that is?"

she paused for a moment, shrugging her shoulders in a way that almost seemed as though she cared not. "because for all your talk, ruqaiyah, you aren't subtle. you're still here, because you don't want to step away."

★

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tirius would have her.

★

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.

★

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?”

★

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

★

ruqaiyah blinked, caught off guard, her lips parting slightly before she snapped them shut again. she had not expected this—this approach, this sentiment. for a moment, she almost laughed, not out of cruelty, but from sheer disbelief. ravi martell, princely and poised, wanted to try. it was flattering, yes, intoxicating even, to think that he saw beyond the politics, that he considered her worth more than the alliance she represented.

but was it so complicated? really?

“ravi,” she began, her voice soft, though there was still a trace of incredulity in it. her fingers toyed absently with one of the rings on her hand, a nervous habit she refused to acknowledge as such. she did not want to see this slip through her fingers, especially considering how she had spoken so often about it. “you make it sound as though we’re embarking on some impossible quest. we’re betrothed. it’s been all set for years.” her tone was laced with her surprise as her aemethyst gaze flickered at him, the sea breeze cause her hair to move around her as she looked at him.

her gaze lifted to meet his, and for a moment, something flickered in her dark amethyst eyes—something vulnerable, quickly masked by a small, composed smile. “but... you want more than that.” the admission felt strange on her tongue, like tasting something both sweet and bitter. “you think we could be... happy?” the word was almost a whisper, as though testing its weight. her arms, which had been folded tightly against her chest, relaxed as she let out a slow breath. “i can’t deny that the idea is... appealing.” her voice softened, losing its earlier edge, though her words still carried a hint of scepticism.

“but ravi, i’ve been raised my entire life to think of this as a duty. to expect... well, not this. not you, standing here, asking for something so—” she gestured vaguely, searching for the word, “—real.”

ruqaiyah stepped closer, the distance between them shrinking as she studied him, her expression carefully guarded. “but let’s not get carried away, your highness,” she added, her tone light, teasing, though her gaze remained steady - this was all practiced. she needed it to be perfect. “i’ve spent years perfecting the art of expectation. if you fail, i promise i’ll let you know.” she was not joking; she meant every word she said. she smiled then, a genuine, if tentative, curve of her lips. “fine. we’ll have dinner. her voice dropped slightly, almost conspiratorial. “and i don’t despise you. you have given me no reason to despise you.” there was little reason for ravi martell to know of ruqaiyah's narcissistic ways; not yet, at least.

"when is dinner? i am currently watching what i am eating, so if possible, keep it leaner."

the prince of sunspear stood tall, his gaze steady as he regarded ruqaiyah, the flicker of amusement in his eyes tempered by something deeper—earnestness. “i know what this is,” he said, his voice calm, princely but kind. “a match like ours isn’t about just us. it’s about our families, our houses, and the future of dorne. i understand the weight of that. i always have.”

he paused, his tone shifting slightly, softer but no less resolute. “but if we’re to be tied together for the rest of our lives, shouldn’t we at least try to understand who we are beyond our titles? to ensure that we can navigate all of this together? a marriage can’t be built on politics alone, ruqaiyah. it’s not enough to survive—it has to work.”

the faintest trace of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, a small effort to lighten the mood. “and forgive me if I don’t want to spend my days locked in a union with someone who might secretly despise me for all the ways i fail to meet expectations.”

he stepped closer, his movements deliberate but unthreatening, the weight of his kinder demeanor matched by a genuine humanity. “dinner is a small thing, i know. it won’t solve everything or answer all the questions. but it’s a start, a chance for us to figure out if we can work together, not just as prince and princess, but as people. i’d like to know if you’ll be able to stand me in the quiet moments when no one’s watching, and i’d like you to know the same of me.”

ravi’s voice remained light but carried an edge of quiet insistence. “so, let’s sit, let’s talk. for ourselves, not just for the realm. if nothing else, you’ll have the chance to tell me exactly where I fall short over a fine meal.”

★

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."

★

ruqaiyah tilted her head as ryon finished speaking, her lips curling into a smile so saccharine it was almost venomous. so she was spoiled. so she was pampered. so she was delusional. but it was what the world had expected of her; and she played that role ever so well. he claimed she enjoyed the game, and there was a spark of something within her amethyst orbs. "yes, and?" her fingers toyed idly with the delicate lace on her sleeve, as though his words had done little more than mildly entertain her.

"you are nothing special. i am being a good hostess." she let a beat of silence hang between them, savouring the moment like one might savour the anticipation before crushing an insect beneath their heel.

“you’re quite right, ryon,” she began softly, her voice almost gentle, like the calm before a storm, her hand twirling a strand of her thick silky hair around her finger. “i don’t understand men like you. how could i possibly? what could i, a daughter of starfall, the grace of the evening, ever learn from a... scavenger, clawing his way to scraps?” she gestured lazily towards him, her bracelets jangling softly with the movement as she let out a puff of smoke. “oh, but forgive me—‘lord’ of nightsong too now, isn’t it? how quaint.” she stepped closer, her gaze sharp and unyielding, almost as though she dared him to do something. she would scream, and then her brother would come and cut through him like he should be. insolent pup.

“i wonder…” her voice dipped lower, conspiratorial, as though she were letting him in on some great secret, “how long will it be before someone stronger pries it from your grasp?”

she laughed then, a soft, lilting sound, as though the very idea amused her beyond measure. she enjoyed winding him up, though she knew she very possibly should not - still, the concept of being untouchable reigned true in her mind. “you say i’ll always be left guessing about men like you, but you’ve already shown your hand. you mistake insolence for wit, idiocy for strength, and worst of all, proximity for power. stepping closer doesn’t make you formidable, ryon." there was judgement and pure bitchiness in each of her words, and at one point, she exhaled a cloud of smoke within his face.

"you'll loose it within the year. watch." it were a bet she made in this corner of starfall's gardens, though she knew not what she would put on the line.

Ryon tilted his head, a slow grin creeping across his face as Ruqaiyah’s words lashed at him like a whip. He didn’t flinch, didn’t waver—if anything, he looked amused, as if her venom fed some deep, twisted part of him. He chuckled low in his throat, the sound rich and maddeningly calm.

“Insects, is it?” he repeated, stepping closer, his movements unhurried but deliberate. “Funny. You compare me to something so small, yet here you are, swatting at me as if I’ve already gotten under your skin.” He gestured lightly to her flushed cheeks, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “And you call me delusional. I’m starting to think you enjoy this little game more than you’d like to admit, my lady.”

Ryon let her words about Sunspear linger in the air for a moment before he responded, his voice taking on a mocking sweetness. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I strike a nerve? Perhaps my self-image isn’t the one you should be worrying about. You seem awfully defensive for someone who claims they couldn’t care less about what I think.”

When she mentioned his persistence lacking intelligence, he laughed outright. “Persistence without intelligence, you say? Well, I’ll leave the cleverness to you, my lady. After all, you’ve clearly mastered the art of speaking down to others from your lofty perch. Very noble of you.”

At her sharp retort about her tower, his smile only grew sharper, his voice dropping to a low murmur, full of taunting mirth. “Your tower, your home. You’ve made that very clear, "Princess" of Starfall.” He leaned in slightly, just enough to make his presence feel heavier, though he never crossed a line. “But if you truly think you don’t need to understand the world outside that tower, then you’re right about one thing—you don’t understand men like me. And that, dear lady, will always leave you guessing.”

★

ruqaiyah crossed her arms, her irritation barely masked behind a tight, sharp smile. she tilted her head slightly, her dark amethyst eyes locking onto ravi’s. “dinner?” she repeated, the word rolling off her tongue with measured skepticism. “how... quaint.” her tone was light, but her words carried an edge, as though she were deciding whether to laugh or lash out. but she could not lash out, for then there was no denying the fact that she would probably end up pushing him away; and then she would truly lose her opportunity to be princess of dorne.

it was all she wanted in the world, something she had envisioned and pictured since she were a girl. her royal wedding, and the lavish jewels that would adorn her.

she stepped forward, closing the small space between them. the sun caught the soft sheen of her hair, and she gestured vaguely toward the horizon, her fingers adorned with delicate rings that glinted in the light. “it’s charming, really,” she began, her voice laced with a thin veneer of politeness, “that you think a dinner can mend this... limbo. our families need to have a discussion, really.” her lips curved into a smile, but there was no warmth in it. or was it not the families, but him specifically? did he truly think someone else was worthy enough to be a princess?

“let’s have dinner. you never know, maybe over food, you’ll finally say something definitive. like a date.”

the wind tugged at the folds of her flowing dress, but she remained perfectly still, her posture taut with restrained annoyance as her hair billowed around her. “you know, i do need to be married, ravi,” she said bluntly, her voice steady but tinged with exasperation. “i don’t have the luxury of sitting here, waiting for you to make up your mind. if this isn’t what you want, all you have to do is say so. tell my family. tell me. i won’t crumble. i’ll look elsewhere. believe me, there are others who have asked.” she turned away briefly, letting her gaze drift to the ocean. the waves shimmered like molten gold under the sun, but the sight did little to soothe her.

she had probably said too much, but she also thought herself to be entirely correct. “you talk about deflection like it’s some noble art,” she continued, her voice quieter now, though no less sharp. “but all it’s done is make me feel like an afterthought, your highness. and i am not an afterthought.”

the waves crashed softly against the shore as ravi kept his gaze fixed on the horizon, the rhythmic ebb and flow of the ocean a mirror to the thoughts tugging at his mind. ruqaiyah’s words hung in the air between them, sharp and unrelenting. he could feel her eyes on him, could sense the weight of her irritation, but still, he hesitated. the sun bore down on them both, its warmth a stark contrast to the tension brewing between them.

for a long moment, the prince of sunspear said nothing. his hands rested loosely at his sides, fingers curling slightly as if searching for something to hold onto. finally, he spoke, his voice quiet but steady. “you’re not wrong,” he admitted, his tone thoughtful. “deflection is... easier. at least, it’s easier than facing something I might not have all the answers to.”

he turned to face her then, the sunlight catching the faint hints of weariness etched into his features. his expression was calm, but his dark eyes held a sincerity that was hard to ignore. “but that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about it, ru. about us. about what happens next.”

he couldn’t blame her, not really. years of silence, the undefined nature of their betrothal—it was enough to fray anyone’s patience. yet ravi wasn’t sure how to address it directly. instead, he focused on what he could do: ease the discomfort, find a path forward, and, perhaps, make her feel less like an afterthought.

ravi’s hands rested at his sides. “would you join me for dinner tomorrow? just the two of us,” he suggested, his voice steady but gentle. “no courtiers, no politics—just a chance for us to speak. about this, about us, and where we go from here.” his gaze softened as he met hers, though the tension in her shoulders told him she wasn’t ready to let the matter rest. “i don’t think anyone has been fair to you in this,” he continued, “least of all me. you deserve more than uncertainty. more than silence.”

it wasn’t a perfect solution, but it was a beginning. a step toward understanding, toward making things right. and if it could bring even the faintest glimmer of peace to the frustration he sensed in her, it would be worth it.

★

"oh, you think persistence pays off?" ruqaiyah scoffed, her eyes flashing with disbelief as she leaned back slightly, hands on her hips. "you may have the persistence of an insect crawling towards its doom, but i don't think your persistence has quite the intelligence to back it up, do you?" she let out a little laugh, as though she were humoring him, her fingers lightly tapping on the sleeve of her blouse, as though her patience were thinning in the most delightful way.

"and as for laying myself down for sunspear—well, my darling, i think your ideas of what happens in sunspear might just be as delusional as your self-image. who needs to prove themselves to a fool like you?" she flicked her eyes over his face, no doubt relishing in the rise of her own words. but beneath it all, she was visibly bothered, her cheeks flushed with irritation, her brows furrowed in mock disgust. it was clear she found his very presence annoying—though she would never admit it aloud.

"you call yourself a man of persistence," ruqaiyah continued, her tone dripping with condescension, "and yet, i see you standing here, talking circles, hoping your wit might impress me into lifting my skirts for you. persistence without substance is just... noise." she laughed again, this time with more force, letting it hang in the air between them. her laugh was one of girlish nastiness. "you may try to stand tall in your own little world, ryon wyl, but you'll never stand taller than me. don't flatter yourself." when he mentioned her mother and her life in starfall, ruqaiyah's jaw clenched.

"a girl in her tower, is it?" she repeated with a raised brow, her voice suddenly dripping with venom. "my tower. my home." the more he spoke, the more ruqaiyah realized that he could hardly be taken seriously. what a laughable attempt at a challenge. he was like a child pretending at something he could never achieve, and yet, for reasons unknown to her, it irritated her beyond measure. she had to put him in his place—quickly and without mercy. "i do not need to understand the military conditions of this land, idiot. look at me."

"Well, if a man must lay himself down for the honorable and high house of Dayne." Ryon bowed dramatically, and then looked at her, stepping closer but still keeping the distance between them. She was a bitch by all counts, a charmingly cruel woman and that got his attention. Ryon liked antagonizing people as often as possible, he liked to see how fair to push people and then see how much further a man could go until the other could no longer take it.

"It's true, isn't it?" He spoke to her with the same tone, mirth dancing in his eyes. "One must prove themselves worthy for the positions they seek. Whether they be positions on the bedding of Sunspear or standing here in Starfall." They were the most arrogant house in all of Dorne only rivaled by Armaan Yronwood, though, clearly, he found Armaan to be more worthy of the arrogance considering the great history of his house, a Dornish king.

But, all of these Dawn Aged houses were the most arrogant of their regions.

"I don't know." And tis time he closed the distance, half smiling as he looking toward the sky and then over at her. "Persistence pays off for men like me."

But ego, ego was a dangerous thing. And for the Wyl of Wyl to be called a mere bannerman was an affront he wouldn't stand for from her or anyone. "I wouldn't expect you to understand what men do. A girl in her tower for so many years. Staring down over the vastness of Starfall. One must be exhausted fetching their mother's pitched learning to rule."

"I'm sure the sister of the Sword of the Morning and the one with Valyrain steel in the mountains, evening or night or something," HIs disrespectful was casual, barely careful in his wording, "appreciates the military strength of the realm. If you understand such things."

★

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.”

★

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

★

ruqaiyah’s lips curled into a slow, deliberate smile, her amethyst eyes narrowing as she studied devani, the words lingering in the air like smoke. she almost found the claim laughable—no winds strong enough? oh, there were winds strong enough. strong enough to carry you away from yourself. but she didn’t say that. not yet. “courage,” ruqaiyah mused, tilting her head slightly, her gaze running over devani as if she were a puzzle yet to be solved.

“you really think that’s what kept you running all these years? courage?” she stepped closer, the words laced with something cold, something biting. “or was it fear, darling? fear of being seen for what you really are. because you and i both know what it is. and it’s never been about courage.” and that was the twisted reality of all that remained in the fractured glass that had become of them; a knowledge, a clear ability to see through one another. there was no way to forget, no way to go back on it.

“you’re bored?” ruqaiyah’s smile widened, sharp as a knife. “as am i. how long did it take for you to get bored? all those years running around pretending—hiding, always hiding. you'll be hiding something over there, no doubt. something that spoiled the fun for you. but now you’re here. chasing a game that no one else is playing anymore.” she pulled away her silks from devani's smooth touch, ignoring the way she seemed to find herself zoning in more on it. on her.

“it is quite the view still, devani. is it not?” ruqaiyah’s voice dropped to a low murmur, an edge of steel in it. her smile faltered for a second, a flicker of the past catching her off guard. memories, god, they never leave, do they? she had given devani everything once, and for what? abandonment. emptiness. she had sat and wondered, rewriting and rewriting letters she would leave her parents. her family. how she would tell them she did not wish to marry. that she wished to be like the rest of dorne.

“you didn’t just look, though, did you?” she said, stepping closer still, her eyes narrowing; but her gaze was dark. “and then you left.” her hand reached out to devani there, moving away her hand from her silks. "we were girls, devani toland. and we are women now. i'll find it within my heart to forgive you, as my soon to be subject." a lie. a complete and utter lie. but she would never miss the chance to remind her of their difference. how lucky she were that ruqaiyah had ever looked in her direction.

"nah. don't think there's winds strong enough to carry me away from my courage." it was not necessarily true. a lover had once told devani she was completely without fear, and she had liked that. but it was not fearlessness that had kept her running all these years. it was quite the opposite, and she did not think any knew that better than ruqaiyah, regardless of whatever playful deflection devani threw her way.

she hummed then, pressing her lips together as though she were deep in thought. but it was another charade, another game. yet another way to see if she could still get under the skin of the lady of starfall. "or maybe i just got bored. hiding's less fun if you're not chasing me."

ruqaiyah pressed closer, and devani found her eyes sliding down her face, studying each of her features. those amythest eyes, with their long lashes, the curve of her cheekbone, the way her lips parted when she spoke and the memory of pressing her own against them. it was a treacherous road to go down, and yet, here she was, throwing herself down it headfirst, as she always did.

"i do." it had been so innocent, in comparison to the lovers that had come after. back then, it had simply been about lying beside one another, charged with something else that was not lust. ruqaiyah had given her an escape from the oppressiveness of ghost hill. devani had repaid that with abandonment. "but that is not the interesting question." she reached out, smoothing a fold in ruqaiyah's pink silks, touch feather-light against the fabric. "because you didn't mind the view either, if memory serves."

★

ruqaiyah leaned back slightly, her glossy lips curving into a slow, calculated smile. the torches cast a golden light over her pale lavender gown, their glow playing across the delicate white gold embellishments that shimmered as though stars themselves adorned her. her hands remained extended, palm up, though her posture was anything but open.

“the stars are willing to speak, you say?” her voice lilted with amusement, soft and melodic, though laced with something sharp beneath. “how convenient for you, zahra. they always seem to have just enough to keep people intrigued, don’t they?” she tilted her head, dark hair cascading over one shoulder like a waterfall of silk. her amethyst eyes, so renowned in the courts of dorne, locked onto zahra’s with an intensity that made lesser women falter.

as zahra’s hands traced hers, ruqaiyah feigned a contemplative expression, though her thoughts were less charitable. strength to lead? to endure? how utterly unoriginal. does she think this is what i wish to hear? she resisted the urge to snatch her hands away, opting instead to let her fingers twitch, an unsubtle display of impatience.

“great responsibility,” she repeated slowly, her tone a perfect mimicry of zahra’s gentle cadence. the girl then let out a cruel giggle, a jewelled hand resting upon her jawline as she looked upon the woman who sat across from her. such beauty, it woud be enough to turn her green someday. ruqaiyah’s smile faltered for the briefest of moments as zahra’s words settled into the air between them. “a decision that weighs on me?” she echoed, her tone deceptively light, though her fingers tensed slightly in zahra’s grasp.

her amethyst eyes narrowed, studying the seer with the intensity of someone probing for a hidden insult. does she think to pry into my betrothal? does she dare to insinuate that the choice is not already made? she resisted the urge to strike the seer that sat across the table from her. the thought rankled her more than she let show. ruqaiyah was a master of poise, after all, and the court of sunspear was no place for a crack in one’s armor. but still, zahra’s words lingered, needling her like a thorn caught beneath her flawless skin.

"what do you have in that empty head of yours?" ruqaiyah asked, her voice purposefully getting louder, as though she sought to embarrass her by ensuring others would hear their conversation. a fake, poisoned smile was still plastered over her glossed lips. "do you suggest that prince ravi would seek to marry another but me?" they were both stupid; zahra and that foolish sister of hers, that did not know how to take a joke. that did not know how to let go of her shawl.

the warm hum of conversation and music around them felt distant as zahra faced ruqaiyah, her words cutting but absorbed with quiet resilience. the dancer's fingers lightly smoothed the edge of her gown, grounding herself as she stood before the high lady. she had long learned that responding to remarks like these, no matter how sharp, was a path fraught with trouble. her smile was small but steady, a shield against the sting of the words.

“of course, my lady,” shesaid gently, her voice calm and even. she let her gaze drift briefly to the glow of torches illuminating the grand hall before returning to the other. “the stars are always willing to speak, even when we may not wish to hear them.” ter tone held no malice, only quiet patience.

she stepped closer, now, lowering herself gracefully onto the cushioned bench opposite the lady of starfall. taking the other's outstretched hands, zahra felt a familiar mix of uncertainty and resolve. though the night’s tension tugged at her, she forced herself to focus on the task at hand. reading palms had always been a comfort—structured, almost meditative. a way to find meaning, even when her own questions remained unanswered.

“the reach has been kind to you,” she murmured, her touch light as her thumbs traced the lines of ru's palms. “there’s strength here—strength to lead, but also to endure. i see someone who carries great responsibility, and with it, great expectation.”

a faint crease appeared on zahra’s brow as her focus deepened. “but there’s something else… a decision that weighs on you, perhaps. something you must choose, though the choice isn’t clear yet.”

looking up, zahra searched ruqaiyah’s face, her expression kind despite the edge in the woman’s earlier words. “does this sound familiar, my lady?” she asked softly. a flicker of unease brushed the edges of her thoughts, though she pushed it away. Whatever weighed on the other wasn’t for the dancer of salt shore to know—unless ru chose to share.

★

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.

★

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.

★

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."