★

★

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.”

★

a part of her was perplexed upon realising that the ghost of ghost hill had remained standing before her, gaze sweeping over the grace of the morning as though in any moment the mosaic would shatter, and this was the last moment. perhaps she had not been expecting to see her here, and there was some egotistical surge at the idea that she managed to render devani speechless; for once.

but then again, why was she thinking as though she still knew devani toland? who even was she?

why was she thinking she could guess anything about the woman's behaviour, as though they had not been strangers for over a decade. she did not know her anymore, and that creeping realisation came as ruqaiyah still refused to look toward her. looking at anyone, or anything else; ever the social climbing butterfly, she would indulge in mindless chatter if it meant she did not need to face what was brewing.

and when she looked briefly at her deewani devani, she noted there was a usual smirk on her features; and she felt her stomach drop.

how? how was it someone was able to still put up such a facade, such a portrait? was it not exhausting? would it not be better should they sit across from one another and pretend they did not need to speak. her brother had just murdered her best friend, there was an impenetrable excuse.

"lady toland." ruqaiyah greeted, her tone seemingly posed and graceful; she spoke with the prejudice and ancient lineage of starfall, and it's descendents. she felt as though the sun, the moon and the stars were falling on her this moment. she ignored the slight ache that came in her chest at the compliment; how words of affirmation from her had always had such an effect on her. made her feel like her heart was blooming - the first rain of the year.

"yes, i do." she responded, her own pride ringing true in her words. there was a dramatic pause, awkward in it's very essence as she looked back at him. contemplating whether to even say her next words. "...so do you, i suppose." ruqaiyah decided, in that moment, that she would act as though nothing had ever happened. there was a smile being offered in her direction, an olive branch; and the smile in return was one of pure civility, and falsehood.

ruqaiyah liked fashion. devani knew she did. they could talk about that. "nice sari...essosi silk?" she asked, reaching forward to take a piece of the sweet barfi. "where about?" where have you been? where did you go? whatever it was that made things awkward, no longer existed. what was their to think fondly on and even remember? nothing. these were two strangers sat at a table. she did not remember. she would not remember. she leaned forward, looking for her brother in the crowd, or for lady jordayne. "do you find sunspear much different?"

devani's reintroduction to dorne had been slow. she did not burst back into the lives of everyone she knew all at once, a glorious firework that demanded all attention. no, she had opted for a more gradual approach. first to dante, which had gone well, then to her family, which hadn't. she had spent the weeks since her feet had once again touched dornish sand slowly, steadily, creeping her way back into the lives of those she had known before, and all she hadn't.

it had been a plan of mixed effects. successful, in that she had managed to reintegrate herself without too much bother. flawed in that, despite her caution, she had still attracted the wrong sort of attention. that wasn't devani's fault, though. she certainly could not control what people were doing around her. without knowing it, the actions of the man she had called her dearest friend had left her between a rock and a hard place. and so, despite her instincts screaming at her to flee, she stayed, and she smiled and sympathised and pretended like she understood why dante uller had to die in order to keep her own back free of any knives.

despite recent events, she had been back long enough to be comfortable. she had spoken to most of those she had left behind her, and had largely been forgiven for the transgressions of choosing herself. there was only one familiar face she was doggedly avoiding, but she deemed sunspear a safe place to hide from ruqaiyah dayne.

until it wasn't.

devani approached her seat, and she froze. for the first time in many, many years, the wandering lady of ghost hill didn't know how to react, for there was ruqaiyah, no longer a girl freshly emerging from adolescence but a woman grown. her eyes met devani's, and she saw that there was recognition there. it was enough to knock the breath from her lungs.

and then she looked away, but devani did not, could not. she stood there, hovering for a moment, her eyes fixed on drinking in every aspect of her appearance in silence, noting what had changed and what had not.

after what felt like eternity, but may have been mere seconds (devani didn't know. it was as though time had ceased to pass), she took her seat, taking longer than necessary to arrange herself in it to delay the inevitable, to compose herself. when there were no more skirts to straighten and cutlery to rearrange, nothing left but to speak.

she lifted her head, her lost expression gone and replaced with her trademark smirk, but her eyes told a different story. in them was all the panic of a wild animal, poised to flee from a predator's hunt.

"hello, ru," the old, affectionate nickname slipped from her lips before she could stop herself. she desperately tried to recall what was said when last they saw each other. would it be better if their parting had been on a soft note, or a blaze of fire? devani didn't know, and couldn't remember.

she had left so many behind, and within a few months across the narrow sea, she had stopped thinking of them at all. even dante uller had crossed her mind only rarely. but ruqaiyah dayne had found herself the subject of devani's thoughts more than most, an echo on her heartbeat that she had tried and failed to drown out again and again and again. how could she put that into words? what could she say that would ever live up to fourteen years of silent thoughts from half a world away?

"you look well." complimenting her appearance seemed like a safe bet. once more, devani's eyes sought ru's out, but she seemed determined to look anywhere that was not devani. "it's good to see you." if she wasn't so focused on keeping a smile on her face, devani would have winced at the utter drivel falling from her lips.

★

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.”

SABRINA CARPENTER Espresso (Behind the Scenes)

Kalank (2019)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

★

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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