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

★

he was looking at her; a pair of orbs that were identical to her own, though it felt more like he was able to see right through her. still, her shoulders remained as poised as they always were, and she held his own gaze in a manner that was confrontational, but curious; how she had been taught she needed to deal with her oldest brother and his peculiar ways. "you are staring at me." she commented, her tone still trying to sound casual; she felt far from it though, for she knew he must have spotted her.

"why?" women all across dorne smoked, and yet, ruqaiyah of house dayne was expected to maintain some level of perfection the others did not. what if they were already perfect, even in their skewered choices?

she was the one who broke the gaze first, extending her bangled arms forward to push the plates toward the ruling lord of the house - there was much about the siblings that mirrored one another, but there was also much of ruqaiyah that mirrored her mother. she had noted that the best way to gain the approval of her mother over the years was to simply replicate her; and suddenly she was no longer pretending. "i was a girl when i made you promise such a thing, bhaiya." she spoke, her voice softer than it had been.

she had no issue with pushing the plates toward her brother, doting on her brother; because he understood the weight of perfection too. so she would play her role, considering he played his too. they were a perfect dollhouse, in perfect line up - and none would see the cracks if they were not on the other side of the mirror. "you need not do such things now. you can let things go, you know?" she commented, directing for the servant to keep the jug on the table - she would refill his cup herself.

"it was my candle." the words came so casually from her lips, and yet, his next words caused her to look up from the goblet she was refilling. she almost allowed the wine to spill over in the rush of excitement; how long she had been waiting for him to agree. she had wished and thought of court often: so many spoke of sunspear, and now it was her time to see it for herself.

"what do you have to get in order? i've done it all for you." did that mean her own marriage would be happening soon? "you told me i could find you a bride before i marry." she reminded; had he? she was not entirely sure that was what he meant by his words; she was not entirely sure he had said anything like that. he had not. "has the prince asked of me? is that why?" a slight break in her formal nature, she seemed to shoot out question after question, not letting him reply.

Bash looked at his sister, he often worried about the way she did things. They were too much alike depending upon who was asked about the comparison. In some ways he knew it was perfect. His sister kept things afloat, some would assume he left his mother in charge but he did not. His sister was his heir and as such she was left to run Starfall and every report was correct, there were no complaints. She ran things the way she was meant to run them. And Baashir was proud of her but he had to wonder how much of her activities were as they were because of him. Such as this smell of smoke. And, of course, the orange glow from her balcony.

"You probably don't remember this, sister." Baashir smiled at her, nodding in thanks to servant who came in with the plate of cheese and dried meat, a similar nod going to the person who brought in a bowl of fruit floating in a bowl of cream which brought a true smile to his face. He grabbed a spoon and then looked up again.

"Whenever I would leave I always promised that I would come home by your window so you may be there when I return. Every time I look towards your window. And even though you had no idea I was coming home, I looked." He took a bite, raised the bowl and took a drink of the sweet milk then sat it back down. "And suddenly I saw this orange glow."

Bash shrugged a shoulder, "perhaps it was a candle. It is dark." He reached over and grabbed one of the pieces of beard and took a bite from the side as he always did. As soon as he started to eat he knew he would be here for quite some time. It made his mother happy to feed him and he was always happy to eat. Especially after leaving a place where he thought the food was shit. Too much venison and pork.

"I'll be here while I get some things in order. And while you get you r things together. It's time for you to come to court, sister."

★

there were lessons learned and lessons forgot, time and time again; felt in the early days of girlhood, where what lay behind the thin veil of the grace of the evening's bed curtain would be enough to cause shockwaves rolling through the halls. lessons of what it felt like to be the centre of something, of being wanted; her spiteful edge had no doubt made her unapproachable and unreliable in regard to friendships.

lessons learned in realising that one could become swept up in the moment, and lessons learned in the cruel reality of hindsight. lessons learned, and lessons forgot; for much to her dismay, the twisting feeling in the pit of her stomach was one of intense jealousy.

gods knew directly what it was relating to, the type of jealousy that was always quick to spring to her mind at the mention of the younger lord of hellholt: but perhaps jealousy in the knowledge that for years, devani had been free to do what she wanted. be who she wanted.

ruqaiyah squeezed a lemon into her goblet, as she did with every drink, staring directly into the gaze of devani toland. "don't call me that." she spoke, dropping all pretence. dropping all formalities.

"stay forever. leave tomorrow. remember. or don't. whatever you do, you have no friend, ally or familiarity in me."

the world had been seen, lessons learned; and in the end, it felt as though the woman sat across from her had done so much. stayed the same whilst changing. and ruqaiyah had remained the same as she always had; the vision of perfection in the eyes of her parents. parent. and now she sat across from her, clearly attempting to make her feel jealous; rub the salt into her wound and hold her into her place whilst it burned.

"now, let us listen to the music....the only show any of us care for." she put on a patronising smile as a swift boundary was drawn in a knife, yet, her hands dug into her skirts.

a cool eyebrow raised, a flicker of something triumphant behind devani's eyes. she wasn't sure - with ruqaiyah, she wasn't sure she'd ever be sure of anything - but she thought that perhaps she could detect a slight hint of something that looked like jealousy.

she smiled then, not the smirk of before but a sloping grin that was perhaps incongruous with the mood that had settled over her when dante uller's name was first mentioned. it did not have to go this way. despite what people may have assumed about her, given the way that she lived her life, devani was not the argumentative sort. the fact it went this way was down to ru, and ru alone, but devani had been pushed too far. how was it that ruqaiyah always knew what to say, what buttons to push to send her over the edge, even after all these years?

"of course i did." she scoffed. "in fact, he was my first port of call when i returned. i've spent more time at hellholt than ghost hill since i returned." even if she was wrong, if it wasn't jealousy ruqaiyah was feeling, there was a grim sort of satisfaction in the fact that she had, at least, proven ruqaiyah wrong.

"i think you have gotten me all wrong, ru." she had meant to call her lady dayne, but the habit had yet to die. "perhaps you forget. i never claimed to have been right." and that was the difference between the two. ruqaiyah demanded perfection, where devani embraced the absence of it.

there had been times, whilst she had been away, as recently as six months ago, where she had found something that reminded her of ruqaiyah. she had sent it to starfall, with no name, and no note. had her trinkets been received? did ruqaiyah know who carefully wrapped them in scented silks, and sent them across the sea?

devani snorted. if ruqaiyah meant to unnerve her by pointing out aditya toland's flaws, she would get nothing but agreement from devani. "if i waited for aditya to protect me, i'd be waiting a long time." in her disdain for her brother, she was perhaps the clearest she had been all night. "but yes. i do recall my time in starfall. glad to hear that you do, also."

had ruqaiyah realised she had let the mask slip? that her own lips had informed all who still listened to their terse words that the two had spent time together. they were not strangers.

"i'm not sure yet." in truth, she wasn't. "i'm here for now."

★

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

who: @raviofthesun when and where: the royal apartments of prince ravi martell context: following her little temper tantrum, ravi followed through with the promise of a dinner.

she arrived precisely ten minutes early - expecting everything to be set up and perfect, as no man in his right mind would leave anything of this nature so last minute. she did not knock. ruqaiyah had never once announced herself like a servant waiting to be received, and she would not start now, least of all at the threshold of the private martell apartments, where history had already decided she was to one day belong. and she very much agreed with that rhetoric.

and so, the guards glanced at her, but none dared question her entrance; what could they say, with the sun itself stitched into her lehenga and a gaze that did not ask for permission?

the corridors glowed amber beneath the sconces, but they paled against the pink heat of her attire, the silk whispering against her skin with every step, embroidered thread catching the candlelight in glimmers of gold. each anklet, each bracelet, each chain at her waist and glittering around her neck added to the crescendo of her presence—she moved, and the world jingled in acknowledgment. her heels clacked unapologetically, arrogant and sharp, the kind of sound meant to precede news.

ruqaiyah could see herself walking these halls everyday. telling the governess to tell the children to be quiet. making the servants display her outfits lined up.

she had worn pink—not rose, not blush, not any dusty rose, but pink—hot and commanding, like the inside of a pomegranate freshly torn. it clung to her waist, her sleeves sheer and beaded, the skirts full enough to swallow entire population of smallfolk girls whole. her lips were glassy, unapologetically reflective, and her long hair—every strand straightened to a blade—cascaded down her back like a curtain of ink.

she stood now in the outer solar, though no servants were in sight. fine. let him find her here, composed, statuesque. she smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle from her sleeve and let her gaze drift to the arches and pillars carved with sandstone vines. the martell taste for excess was more subdued than dornish fire might suggest—peach marble and muted earth tones. it made her seem even louder by comparison, a gem mistakenly placed in a bowl of stonefruit. "so this is it," she murmured aloud to herself, fingers trailing lightly along the edge of a table carved with sun motifs. "the belly of the beast."

she had imagined it before, of course. had imagined countless evenings where he would finally remember the promises laid out for them before they could even speak in full sentences. imagined him, not as he was—cool and absent and impossible—but as he might become, if only he would stop stalling. "tell the prince i am here." she did even bother to introduce herself - in what world would she need to? the most beautiful in dorne, on the continent; the sister of the sword of the morning, and the oldest lady of house dayne.

"for our private dinner." she did not want them stood inside.

★

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tirius would have her.

This barbie is desi

★

ruqaiyah’s lips curled into a saccharine smile, the kind that never reached her amethyst eyes - eyes that were empty and devoid of any kindness or spark, unless there was the exception of someone speaking about her, giving her attention. "there is one more thing." she spoke, her hand resting beneath her chin as the shimmer of her pale pink silks reflected against the candlelight. she leaned forward slightly, her voice a blend of mockery and feigned curiosity, carefully pitched to carry just enough to be overheard by the lingering courtiers.

“well,” she began, her tone dripping with false sweetness, “i’ve always wondered, with all your vaunted gifts, how you manage to keep your composure. it must be such a burden, knowing the secrets of the stars and the future of us mere mortals.” her eyes sparkled with amusement, though there was an unmistakable edge to her words.

she paused, allowing her gaze to drift over zahra’s elegant form, her lips pursing slightly. “and yet,” she continued, her voice softening to a more contemplative pitch, “i can’t help but recall that unfortunate episode with your sister. such a tragedy, really. when she went missing for those dreadful days. the court was in such an uproar.” ruqaiyah’s smile widened, though it lacked any warmth. “i couldn’t help but wonder at the time—why didn’t you use your gifts then? surely, the stars would have spoken to you, given you some guidance, a hint, at the very least?” she tilted her head, a mock frown creasing her brow as though she were trying to understand.

“or were they silent when it came to something so personal? it does make one question the efficacy of your… abilities.” she leaned back, her posture languid and poised, the picture of dornish grace, her smile never faltering. but still, it were cold and it were entirely fake. her words were meant to hurt; she took enjoyment in seeing a flicker of pain and the realisation of insecurity crossing her face. to put it bluntly, she loved it.

“do not misunderstand me, zahra. your talents are... entertaining. and so many whisper such horrid things about you, that when they pay for your services there is more to what they are paying for. i personally don't think it is so serious - i've always said i think you are merely bored.”

the hum of the hall’s conversation and music seemed to drift away as zahra sat gracefully across from ruqaiyah. the lady’s sharp words, deliberately loud enough to be overheard, hung in the air, but zahra met them with the calm patience she had honed over years of navigating moments like this. her fingers lightly smoothed the edge of her gown before folding neatly in her lap.

“my lady,” zahra said softly, her tone steady and warm, “the stars speak only of what is, not of what may not be. and in what they show, i see no uncertainty in your place beside prince ravi. your union has been spoken of as fact, a bond that seems as secure as the foundations of starfall itself.”

her gaze held the other's, kind and unwavering, as though she could will the other woman to feel the assurance she offered. “but the stars also reflect the weight of responsibility you carry. to stand at the side of a prince is no small thing, nor is it given lightly. what i see in you is strength—a strength both to endure and to lead. such qualities do not go unnoticed, not by the stars, and certainly not by the prince.”

she leaned forward slightly, her voice lowering just enough to add a layer of sincerity to her words. “if there are decisions before you, they are not matters of doubt, my lady, but of opportunity. i see paths that lead to triumph, not uncertainty.” she smiled, small and kind, letting her words linger.

her touch light, zahra traced ruqaiyah’s palm briefly, as if to underline her point. “the stars say nothing of rivals or questions of loyalty. they show only that you are destined to wield great influence, whether it be within the halls of starfall or beyond them.”

she allowed herself a softer tone as she finished. “uou are more than ready for this, my lady. and while the stars may guide, it is your own radiance that will truly illuminate the way forward. have faith in what you already know to be true, i apologize if i cast any misunderstandings.”

her smile lingered, gentle and composed, as if she hoped to ease the tension with her calm. “if there is anything more you seek, my lady, i am here to assist you,” zahra added, her voice imbued with quiet resolve.

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

★

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.