★

who: @halimayronwood what: semi-flashback thread set before the dornish court depart for casterly rock when and where: sunspear, the first time halima and ruqaiyah cross paths since ruqaiyah arrives with baashir from starfall.

ruqaiyah of house dayne did not think about the death rattle anymore; that which had come from human lips rather than the ominous sound that came from the most fearful of serpents - she did not think about the facial expressions that crossed over each of the gargalens upon hearing the news that there had been a body found some leagues away. she only remembered her own body becoming very still that moment, her gaze daring not to meet the gaze she knew would not be looking in her direction.

the indifference was numbing, and it came not from a place of desperate guilt and repression, but rather an avoidance and refusal to take even a hint of responsibility for her actions. ruqaiyah dayne did not think of the blood of farah gargalen upon her hands, because she did not think the blood was ever upon her hands. rather the skirts of her dress at the hands of the girl's own foolishness, how they had called for her to remain in the carriage - how she had reminded her that the terrain this far from the tor was rocky.

"how is having your own space away from armaan?" ruqaiyah asked, a goblet of wine upon her lips as she sat across from the lady halima of house yronwood; if one was the crack, the other was the whip. an endless, vicious cycle of narcissism that continued to swirl, even as they sat across from one another. she were referring to the regency of kingsgrave the lady across from her now held, in the name of two sons of house yronwood - ishaan and kabir.

"a household of your own made up of manwoodys and servants…the same thing, in reality."

"your subjects seem keen to try and listen to our conversation." her tone was louder now, loud enough to ensure the manwoody party and their associates would hear her - calling them subjects, equating halima to their sovereign. it only made her smile more, a callous, immature one. "it is a good thing the heirs of kingsgrave look to a yronwood for their regent. that way, kingsgrave will never be sacked by a vulture king again." and she raised a toast. gods knew joy manwoody only spoke of all the work she needed to do to fix the lands that had been pillaged.

"is it as awful as she made it out to be?"

★

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."

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 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 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.”

★

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.

★

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 only theatrically shrugged.

bluntness was a cursed habit of house dayne; all members seemingly having short tongues, their affinity to wrapping it in lace, flowers and silver was what differed from individual to individual - the very opposite of ambiguity, of double meanings, and looking too close into something. it would be a lie to say ruqaiyah dayne was not one to make ambiguous comments in passing with the sole intention of making another feel nervous or insecure about themselves; it was in her early girlhood she realised ambiguity could be a weapon.

"did you ever try to reach out to your childhood friend?" ruqaiyah asked, amethyst hues flickering away from a vivid dark gaze toward the food that was now cold on the plate before her. "perhaps he did not adjust well to your vanishing act."

one she felt now, sitting on the opposite of this damned table, and she found herself doing mental gymnastics attempting to work out what it was devani was truly saying. how she hated it, when she was on the receiving end. hypocritical to her very core; her hand remained beneath her chin as she merely looked upon the woman opposite her with a torn look. one of scathing judgement, as though she were vermin beneath her shoe; and the other side being one rooted in fractured insecurity.

"then again, why would you? that would require you to be able to admit when you've done wrong, and both of us do not have the time to unwind the length of that scroll."

dying for answers of questions she had always buried deep within her for years, though was never able to ask them - for she never had an address of where to write. the letters never came with any confirmation of identity, never came with any inclination of where she could write anything back: even across the narrow sea, devani toland had some control over her ability to open her mouth and say anything.

her gaze narrowed when she mentioned baashir; baashir did not get angry. he was the perfect knight, and he was doing his duty. so he beat a man to a pulp, who gave a shit when the man was a traitor? his life meant nothing anyway. "well, some of us have brothers who actually protect their families. you know baashir, devani - considering you stayed some time with us." to be away from whatever hell hole ghost hill was.

how it had taken time for ruqaiyah to be willing to open her mouth and speak on the truth of who she was: how she was ready to tell devani she would sit both of her parents down and speak the truth to them - that she did not wish to marry, that she did wish to set foot in a sept she did not believe in. that devani toland would not be a secret. and with a gust of wind over sails, that came to a sudden, screeching end. instantly, the rose hue faded to black and white, and the bubble burst: it had all been in her own head.

a foolish, naive girl believing none other compared, that she stood alone. "are you intending on staying, lady toland?"

she wasn't sure why she hadn't anticipated this, why it had taken her so by surprised when the subject of dante was broached. she had been lucky, thus far, that nobody else had approached her so pointedly. conversations about dante had been few and far between, usually accompanied by offers of condolences from them, and assurances from devani that she had no idea what her friend had been up to. that wasn't a lie. dante had kept her in the dark - and she was eternally grateful that he had.

but if devani had forgotten the depths to which ruqaiyah could stoop, she had forgotten how resilient devani could be. was she not the girl who had left dorne with nothing, who had flitted from place to place, building a new life for herself each time? the silence was a sign of her displeasure, but she would not remain quiet.

"i do not know what curse gripped dante uller's heart in my absence," the words were more for the benefit of anybody still listening to the conversation than ruqaiyah, a simple statement that washed her hands of any guilt, and addressed the lady of starfall's words without ambiguity, without shame. devani toland would not be cowed.

"but i mourn the friend i've known since my childhood." and there, she moved back into ambiguity, because those words could apply to dante uller - but they could just as easily be affixed to ruqaiyah dayne, because devani had mourned her, and thought of her, and wanted her. even when she hated her.

"yes, i hear your lord brother's fury was a sight to behold. tell me, does he often lose control of himself like that?" it was a dangerous hand to play, and yet, devani chose to throw that card on the table regardless, a reminder that the daynes of starfall were not as perfect, as infallible, as ruqaiyah was painting them to be. "let us all be thankful that we have our first minister to dispense justice upon the wicked, hmm?" and there, she retreated back into what was safe, a place where nobody could twist her words and paint them as a slight on baashir dayne. they were blessed to have him, a shining star of the dornish court.

devani hated this game.

"i suppose we do," devani's eyes burned as they met ruqaiyah's once more. try again. her lips twisted into a mirthless smirk. "there is nothing sadder than someone who holds on to hate for things they can't control, is there?"

★

the seat in which baashir now sat upon their grand table had been years in the making; it was constantly referenced that someday he would be the next ruling lord of starfall, spoken about more than any other thing in their family. her marriage, and his lordship, and his marriage: only one of those things had happened, and yet there was often a picture that was painted. that life was as it should be, like there was not someone missing at the table: she had always struggled to see the portrait of her father upon the wall behind what was once his seat.

this change was hardly new, and yet, she thought of it each time baashir sat down in the chair. what was missing, what once was, and whether this was all it was supposed to be.

her amethyst gaze looked over to the sight of her mother trailing behind a message boy, something about a message from their cousin safeerah; she could still hear their mother's voice ringing from the halls as he uttered his next words. so he had not seen her, but he had smelt her. "smoke?" she allowed a puzzled expression to cross over her features that appeared as though they had been chiselled from marble, from glass, from the stars itself.

"do i?" she asked again, her hand resting upon the chair; and yet, she was inwardly cursing at herself.

of course he would smell it, because he knew the smell all too well. there was little use in becoming angry and defensive, because he would see that. instead, she feigned genuine confusion - not even denying smoking herself. she did not want him to think that was the first thing on her mind. "i do not smell it, but maybe it was the incense i had burning in my room, or the new fragrance could be using too much sandalwood. serves me right for trying out new ones."

she almost mirrored his actions, folded arms coming upon the table stop, white gold bangles shimmering beneath the crystal chandelier that hung above them. a silent challenge, that he could read too much into. she would pretend to be upset if she needed to, and get their mother involved. "you've arrived just before safeerah - she'll be so happy to see you too." they had not been able to see her since the funeral of their rashid.

"are you staying long?" how much will you be around to be on my head and monitoring me?

The Sword of the Morning was 1 and 10 when he first tried one of the smokes that were growing in their popularity as the countries separated and other regions increased their trade with the East or perhaps, he knew nothing about who smoked where and made broad assumptions. Baashir Dayne would never admit to the latter, so he supported the former. And while he didn’t smoke often, he still enjoyed smoking after a meal. Smoking after a particularly rough day or when he finished his games with Rashid. But Rashid was dead, and he was in constant need of reminding everyone he remembered. How could one forget? One couldn’t.

Baashir Dayne was familiar with the smell of smoke. The smell of the dried, brown leaves burning within its place. Could be anyone was his first thought. But when he entered his mother was there, as she always was, greeting him. There was excitement, arms thrown around his neck and brief whispers of how she missed him and wished he stayed home even longer. And this would be a lengthy stop but not one long enough for her, that he knew. But, soon, the son of the Starfall would return and all would be right. If he believed his mother.

“Bhaiṇa.” Bash greeted her, returning the hug, he then paused as he looked at her. The smell caught him first. Smoke. She smelled like smoke and if anyone noticed the subtle changes in his expression it was always Ru that noticed and tugged at mother’s skirts. She was too old to tug at skirts now. And clearly believed herself old enough to take up some smoking but then she mentioned food and him being fat. “No I’m not. I didn’t eat because I knew there would be …”

And before he could finish his mother was giving orders for trays of fruit and cheese, trays of raw veggies and hard meats, and anything could be made hot. Bash didn’t try to stop her. It was their jobs to make sure the lord of the house had a full belly before bed.

“Sit down.” Bash look at her as he allowed his cloak to be removed and then he removed his own sword belt, lying it down on the chair directly across from them. Sitting as he always did, stiffly, forearms resting against the tabletop.

“You smell like smoke.” He said as their mother left the room.

This barbie is desi