★

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

who: @raviofthesun when and where: two days following lady ruqaiyah dayne's arrival to sunspear from starfall, she crosses paths with the oldest surviving son of house martell - also being her betrothed from their early youth. context: these two have known one another for many years, considering there was some time where ravi lived at starfall to train with baashir during the time of him being a second son.

feigning exhaustion and borderline sickness from the journey across the breadth of dorne had worked in the favour of the lady of starfall; even if she had needed to put her ability to dramatise anything and everything into good use, as though the journey was not one that was done regularly both in the past and the present. the daynes had ventured to the great sept of sunspear alongside the other courtiers of those who swore to be unbowed, unbent and unbroken; a moment of respite from the close monitoring she had been dealing with by her mother and brother alike.

and so the moment the door had shut behind her quarters, an entitled amethyst gaze had immediately turned toward the guard that remained in her room…who now remained a watchful eye on this golden sandy beach in the shadow of the fortress of sunspear and the shadow city itself.

the wonders of giving instructions with no falter or stammer, with the sound logical reason of fresh air helping her fight off the impending sickness she felt at the back of her entirely clear throat. truthfully, her stay in sunspear had been tarnished by a certain ghost's reappearance across from her at a circle table - and this trip was an important one, for a multitude of reasons. the daynes would need to cement their position, in more ways than one. one of such ways would end in her and ravi of the sun circling the marital flames a total of seven times.

but things were different; and as much as she wished to simply be able to navigate herself into his sphere to find a way to close the distance that was some months of business and distance, sunspear and the dornish sun were his halls. and he somehow seemed more of a prince here than in any other place. a part of her grew irritated with the fact she could not smoke under the gaze of the starfall guard, though now she knew this place existed, she would no doubt find some way to slip here.

and when a distant figure appeared upon one of the sand dunes, she narrowed her amethyst gaze, using her hand to shield herself from the glare of the sun behind it to try and see who it was that was walking toward her. feet remained in the sparkling intense blue of the ocean, silver anklets submerged, and pastel pink silk swirling at her feet. the sun continued to blind her, and she began to step forward from the sea kissing at her feet, when the dots connected.

"skipping the sept too, your highness?" she asked, her voice trailing over the soft sound of the waves as she walked too. and whilst she could comfortably refer to ravi as her friend, he was her prince too; especially in such a setting, and so she dropped into a graceful curtsy, not deep enough for it to be strange, but enough to signify respect and a comfort in doing such things. they knew the way their worlds worked - and whilst she complained of many things, he was not one of them. "i have been meaning to ask you what time you were born."

"but you are surrounded each time i see you." she had not realised how much the political situation had changed until she had seen it. rav was not a second son anymore, and a small part of her began to wonder. wonder what she had not wondered before. would marrying another, that was not her, make more sense?

★

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.

gif request meme:

@manbunjon requested: asoiaf + favourite location

★

ruqaiyah raised a single brow at the audacity of it—calling out to her from the other room like she were some girl summoned from the kitchens, like her heels hadn’t just sung her arrival down the corridor with the clarity of temple bells. she stood perfectly still for a moment longer, letting silence stretch in reply to his voice, her lip twitching with disbelief. you’re early, he’d said. which means i’m technically on time. technically, he was technically a nuisance. he had not come to greet her. not risen, not bowed, not offered even the pretence of preparation. and worse—he dared to mimic her.

and there he was: barefoot, lounging, still in loose garments like he had just woken from a nap rather than risen to receive her. "excuse me, put some shoes on. i hate feet."

if he had been anyone else—anyone less—she would have turned on her heel without so much as a word and left nothing but the memory of her scent clinging to the doorframe. but no. he was ravi. prince ravi. and unfortunately for him, that just saved him. when he called it war paint, ruqaiyah blinked. slowly. deliberately. her head tilted ever so slightly, lips pursed in disbelief as though she hadn’t just spent two hours ensuring every element of her appearance looked effortless. war paint?

“war paint,” she repeated, tone dry as sunstone. “it’s called gloss, actually,” she corrected, setting her small jewelled clutch down with a loud thunk on the nearest marble surface. the sound echoed, sharp and petulant. “hydration, you may have heard of it if you were not here smoking all day.”

she didn’t take his offered hand. not yet. let him stand there a moment longer, reaching—just to remember she was not his to summon like some courtier in need of favour. instead, she let her gaze travel the room as though assessing its worthiness. she was bored, she decided. utterly unimpressed. and she would act as such, even if the flutter in her chest betrayed something more viciously alive.

“i feel you’ve made no effort,” she observed plainly, gesturing vaguely to his tunic with the sweep of her eyes. “unless the brief was ‘freshly roused from a sand nap.’” she turned, just slightly, so the back of her lehenga swished and caught the light again. “do you greet all women like this, or only the ones you’re legally promised to?” she finally moved toward him, slow and disdainful as a cat, stopping just before his hand but not taking it. instead, she raised one perfectly threaded brow again and asked, “what is for dinner? or is that also arriving late, princely style?” she clicked her tongue softly, folding her arms.

ravi heard her before he saw her.

the soft chime of jewelry, the crisp tap of her heels, the imperial hush that followed her into a room. ruqaiyah. he didn't look up from the open book in his lap, not yet. there was a certain joy in letting her simmer, the kind only an eldest daughter of house dayne could manifest with a lift of her brow and the faintest curl of her lip. she expected the world to keep time with her, and so, he made it a point now and then to remind her that he was not the world, he was the sun, too, and suns did not rise early for anyone.

he shifted in his seat, lounging not in the dining room, where a table had, admittedly, only just begun to be set, but in the adjoining room, low on cushions, barefoot, still in a half-loose tunic the color of smoked amber. incense curled lazily toward the ceiling, and a small tray of pomegranate seeds and sugared dates sat beside him, untouched. the air smelled of sandalwood, citrus peel, and something sharper: expectation.

"you’re early," he called out, his voice warm, bemused, and deliberately languid. "which means i’m technically on time."

he rose slowly, with the kind of unhurried grace only a man absolutely certain of himself could wield. he did not come into view immediately, just allowed his voice to roll through the solar like the wind curling through desert canyons.

"tell the prince i am here," he mimicked softly to himself with a grin, crossing into the room at last. and then, louder: "consider him told."

ravi’s gaze swept over her, thoughtful, appreciative, just a little amused, like he was deciphering the difference between invitation and challenge. she was a vision in pink, yes, but also a storm wrapped in silk and fire, and gods, hadn’t he always known she’d arrive like this? not just beautiful, but inevitable.

“you wore war paint for dinner,” he said, mouth tilting into a lazy smile. “should i be flattered… or concerned?”

his bare feet padded over the cool tiles, and he stopped just short of her, not too close, but close enough for her perfume to make him want to forget every plan he'd half-laid for the evening.

then, with the offhanded authority of a prince too used to being obeyed, he glanced toward the archway where two servants lingered at a distance, still, watching. “leave us,” he said quietly.

a bow, a shuffle of sandals on stone, and they were alone.

his voice softened as he turned back to her, now entirely hers. “come,” he offered, reaching a hand out in invitation, fingers adorned in rings, palm open and warm. “they're setting the table, but we can talk here until everything is prepared for us."

★

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

★

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.

★

ruqaiyah dayne was never one to shy away from attention, but tirius rowan intrigued her more than most. he was nothing like the men of dorne, not quick to flatter or make overt gestures. instead, he watched her with a quiet intensity, as if trying to decipher her. she hadn’t expected him to be so... measured. most would be fawning, eager to please her. but not him. no, he had a different kind of arrogance, a controlled one, and that made him more interesting than the others.

she barely registered the words he spoke about wives and homes; they were empty, almost an afterthought. what struck her was the unspoken challenge beneath them. he thought he knew her kind, the dornish women who entangled men in their webs, yet she wasn’t quite so simple. men forget many things, he had said. perhaps that was true. but she wasn’t one to be forgotten easily. she didn’t have to remind him of that.

as he pulled the chair out for her, she didn’t wait for him to settle into his own place before she took the seat. his gesture was expected, and she had no interest in playing along with his courtesies. the chair was hers now, as everything was.

you wish to know my name, she thought, watching him with an impassive expression. she could tell him. give him the satisfaction. but names were so fleeting. even her own felt like it would slip from his mind before the evening was over. the weight of it would linger only for as long as it took for him to recall it when they next met. "the lady ruqaiyah dayne of starfall," she said at last, her voice assertive. it felt like nothing to her. her name had been spoken a thousand times before, yet here, now, it had a weight to it. she could see him digesting it, mentally cataloguing it alongside the others he’d forgotten so easily.

she extended her hand for him to kiss.

she didn’t care. she didn’t need him to remember her name. what was more interesting was how he looked at her, the way his gaze lingered just long enough to make her skin prickle with the subtle power of it. but there was something else too, something buried beneath his composure. a desire? or simply curiosity? she leaned forward ever so slightly, just enough for him to notice the curve of her neck, the slow, deliberate way she held his gaze.

"most you reachmen forgot your wives the moment you entered dorne."

Tirius didn't dawn a mask when he came here. He didn't want to take part in these games. No. He came down to the day because he wanted to speak with his very pregnant sister. And he was excited to see her doing so well in such a place. He knew the West was very different from the Reach. While she mentioned needing to speak to him, she assured him it didn't involve her feeling in danger and that mattered. He knew what happened to wives who displeased their husbands. He knew women lost their heads quite easily in the West.

The woman across from them caught his attention as he sat up in his chair and picked up the cup. His sister kissed his cheek and bid him farewell, her giant husband trailing behind her dutifully and perhaps drunkenly. He looked over his cup at the woman as she approached him.

Dornish. "I am." He found her to be quite pretty and he wondered to which she belonged and who unmasked her, if it meant she was claimed by another that would seek to pluck out his eyes for their offense. Tirius sat the cup down and almost smiled in amusement. Perhaps she too found herself as drunk as those around them.

"Men forget many things, their homes and wives are often not on the list." At least, many men did not forget their wives and those who forgot their home were the sort who turned traitor and exiled themselves. Exile was much easier than dealing with the Marshall of the Northmarch taking their head.

"May I ask for you name, my lady? I always wish to know who speaks to me of ships and my men." They were Lucrezia's men but she was not here to correct him, so why not entertain the beautiful woman. "There's a chair over here." He held her gaze and pulled the chair out beside him.