# Maybe She Snapped

who: @devanitoland when and where: sunspear, shortly following the murder of dante uller by baashir dayne and the introduction of ruqaiyah dayne to the court of sunspear. there is a grand feast going on with specifically assigned seating, and ruqaiyah finds herself sat at a table with a very, very, familiar stranger. tdlr: that feeling when ur 10 year long situationship shows up

her visit to sunspear would most likely be permanent this time, and it was something she had not fully thought through until the wagon was already days into the journey - she found herself wondering whether that had been intentional, to make the change of setting as easy and minimal as possible. ruqaiyah hoped not, for she wished her departure from her home to be full of emotional theatrics, with elephants adorned in colourful fabrics and colour filling the air.

now she was here, back in the capital city: where she had been before, though it felt like each time she arrived, there was some update. someone had died.

there was assigned seating at this table, and she noted there were multiple notable women of various houses of dorne: and she did not pay enough attention to one of the names that would have been enough to cause her to get up and demand to sit at another table. perhaps because she was too engrossed in gossip about what the princess loreza martell was wearing, she was within such conversation when another face appeared before her.

"my eyes are increasingly fixed on one person." "don't say that." "but i did." "who?" "you've run out of questions now, ru." she had seen it, and heard it, through a rose coloured haze.

one would be able to see her expression change ever so slightly as she looked upon devani toland for the first time in over a decade, as though she had risen from the dead: of course she had heard of her return and all the rumours attached to them. a flicker of realisation, her words slowing for a moment, before she simply looked away; acting as though she was not at the table at all. none would have noticed the way her heart was thumping, and how suddenly increasingly numb she began to feel.

a door slammed. "you said your eyes were fixed on one person. one. person." "did you take it seriously? we were drinking." "but you said it." "so?" "do you tolands know how to count?" she had seen it, and heard it, through no haze.

how she wished to get up and demand to be sat elsewhere. she found herself looking anywhere but at her, speaking to women and aunties of various social circles as they walked by her; and still, she had not said hello. she would not say hello first. she refused to say hello first.

and if devani toland did not say hello first, then devani toland was not sat opposite ruqaiyah dayne. it was an empty seat.

★

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."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

★

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."

★

life was doing that thing it always done in the aftermath of a tense conversation or situation: replaying the words uttered over and over again in the mind of the grace of the evening, though in a striking contrast to the majority of humans with a conscience, there did not come waves of regret or even embarrassment for how the situation had unfolded. if anything, the only feels of ire and irritation were aimed at herself, for not escalating matters even further: she was unable to see how that would have done no favours, too wrapped up in her own scars, her own feeling of betrayal.

and so, ruqaiyah had no issue with acting as though devani was not in the room - and those who knew her, knew even that suggested something was there.

for in truth, it was unlikely the lady of starfall would have left anyone who had vexed her to their own devices. it was unlikely she would not have them looking behind their shoulder, or finding a way to further shame them - her cruel streak had apparently weaned, or perhaps it had morphed into a different sort of cruelty. the type where one pretends as though she never existed at all; as though she was not, and never had been, anything special.

it were not as though ruqaiyah did not know how to do such a thing. a pale pink, almost white mask remained upon her features; until it didn't.

there was the feeling of a hand quickly moving to rest on her hip, and ru's brows furrowed, lilac orbs darting downward - and her mask was gone. she had heard of such rumour, and turned to confront the thief - only to find herself looking within the jovial eyes of devani toland, who continued acting as though nothing had happened. it was something ruqaiyah took as a personal insult, a targeted attack on her - how could she do this?

they were in public, in the middle of the day; and as much as ruqaiyah wished to grab her by the hair and shake her, push her into a nearby fountain, she could not.

"some of us don't need gold from others." instead, she shot her a dirty look, her gaze glancing up and down the woman - acting as though the woman had entirely missed the point. her fingers snapped together, a dayne pageboy scurrying toward her; she went into the small pouch of money, and handed it roughly to devani into her hands, as though she were giving money to a begger. "and if you must know, somebody else was supposed to unmask me. thank you for ruining that. " a lie. pettiness.

closed starter for @ruqaiyahdayne setting: lann's day

it was a stupid, and reckless decision. and yet, stupid and reckless was what devani did best.

she had not expected ruqaiyah dayne to welcome her home with open arms. had she done so, perhaps devani would have been more wary, expected some sort of underhanded trick from the lady of starfall. no, ruqaiyah's rage was to be expected, the depths to which she would sink to get the upper hand? devani had quite forgotten just how cruel she could be, when she had a mind to be.

and yet. ruqaiyah had long been the one thing she could never quite let go of, no matter how many years and miles she tried to put between the two of them. devani did not like that. she had never belonged to anybody but herself, but when it came to ruqaiyah, that confidence was shaken a little. she knew she should leave it alone, stop picking at the raw wound that existed between them, but she could not when she was in essos, every few months an anonymous gift with no note attached finding it's way to dornish shores, to ruqaiyah's hands. she must have suspected who sent them.

and she could not leave it alone now. the tension of their last meeting gripped at her. perhaps it was because she was already so weighed down, by the boy who lay in the sewers of king's landing, by what was left of dante uller upon the floors of sunspear, by the selhorys sell sword who had succumbed to a terrible illness and the little boy who now needed to be, somehow, smuggled into dorne, but she could not let it go.

she approached from behind, one hand resting upon ruqaiyah's hip to keep her still, the other lifting the mask from her face. she had known it was ruqaiyah before she had even had to look too closely, the hue of her clothing giving her away, if not anything else. she did not wish to think about the anything else.

she released her grip, stepping backwards with her prize clutched in her hands, waggling it a little as ruqaiyah turned so that she could see what she had done. "i win," she let out a laugh, turning the mask over in her hands. "you ought to be more vigilant, ru. you'd never have won the day like that, anyway."

mask shifted to her left hand, devani held out her right, in the expectation that ruqaiyah would pay her the winnings she was owed. "come on, then. i believe you owe me a little coin now." there was a teasing lilt to her voice. though their last meeting was still fresh on her mind, devani was acting as though nothing had ever happened. as though she was sixteen again. if she were, would she have made different choices, knowing all she did now?

in her heart, she knew the answer was a resounding no.

★

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.

gif request meme:

@manbunjon requested: asoiaf + favourite location

★

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.

★

it felt as though there were words that were being uttered, and yet, her thoughts were entirely distracted by the question at the very back of her mind; what were they doing? did he intend to go through with it still? the light chuckle that slipped from his lips caused her amethyst orbs to glance up at his figure, using her hand to shield her from the glare of the sun's rays - perhaps the sun of dorne was always supposed to be ravi martell, rather than his older brother.

"and does their opinion change often?" she asked him, her hands remaining on either side of her lilac adornment; gossip was gossip, and despite it all, ruqaiyah dayne had not experienced the ways the wind of gossip changed from day to day within the beating heart of sunspear.

"the watchers pamphlet gets delivered to starfall too…something the first minister does not know." she added, a slightly amused expression crossing her features; he knew her brother, knew how he detested such nonsense. "do people read them often in sunspear?" how quickly to the winds change, was the question she was truly asking. how different would things have been if it had been him who was the oldest, the firstborn? a small part of herself found herself feeling somewhat jaded, knowing she had missed the opportunity for her line to be the direct rulers of dorne; no, that privilege went to the girl in the basket instead.

if this match went through, she would be second best; still, as she had always been to the eyes of everyone. his comment regarding not disappointing her mother caused a slight look to cross her features, one of familiarity as he looked at her; such a small comment, though she knew it had meaning. one simply did not disappoint lady dayne. "it depends on the people, i suppose. i have grown able to be alone in my own head, even in a room of people…a skill, when surrounded by vultures."

"…how is your mother?" ruqaiyah asked, feeling herself stand on something pointed within the ocean. she did not grimace, though moved her foot from it, feeling an ache quickly begin to develop. her mother was waiting to be invited to a personal audience with the matriarch of house martell.

a chuckle escaped him and he gave a slight shrug at her answer. ravi did not mean to insinuate he was ashamed of people seeing the two of them together, in fact it were almost quite the opposite. the thought strangely made him nervous, but not in a way that he did not want to commit himself to the woman before him, rather he hadn't a chance to really consider just how near that time was coming. despite being betrothed to her for many years, there had always been a separation of lives, other matters that they attended to, and now they were needing to face what was to come for them, together.

ravi couldn't help but wonder her thoughts on the matter. he knew house dayne's more traditional stances seeped within her veins, and she would follow through with the duty bestowed upon her. perhaps that alone was enough for a cordial marriage, as ravi thought himself to be a reasonable person to get along with. however, he hoped she would not feel as if the cards had been dealt, and there could be no true connection, eventually. despite his more reserved, private nature, he was a bit of a sentimental creature.

head tilted to the side and a grin came over his features, her words held a hint of elicit matters within them, but he could not gauge if that is what she actually intended to say. "good, certainly the opinion of the court is an important one." he remarked, and he were being entirely truthful, for perhaps in some way, ravi felt as if he was truly being the light, the sun that he was always spoken to be, having been eclipsed by his elder brother for so long. thoughts raced through his mind on just how people perceived him, and he wondered if ruqaiyah had felt the same.

"well, we cannot disappoint your mother. i'll ensure the information is given to her swiftly." he placed his hands behind his back, looking down at the glimmering water that rose to their knees, almost feeling the energy of the ocean itself surge through him. despite the little bit of conversation they were having, ravi found himself glad to have a moment alone with ru. it gave them a small chance to attempt to be themselves before the other. "do you often find yourself away from the masses?" he questioned, perhaps wanting to understand her feeling on the large gathering happening within the halls of sunspear before them. "or rather, is solitude something you prefer at times?"

★

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.”