Lips Curled Upwards Into A Sly Grin At The Lords Response, The Subtle Swaying, Moment Of Her Body That

slender fingers let the parchment that hazel hues had just scanned over roll back into the position in which is was given to her, the smooth paper being placed upon a table near the doors of her chamber. there was quiet instruction to the pageboy awaiting outside her doors, an indication of her acceptance of such an invitation. a feeling of satisfaction came over her, though such parchment did not come entirely as a surprise, truth be told. it was not the words they spoke earlier in the evening that gave way to her intuition, rather, the tone that hung over them the entirety of their conversation.

adorned in the same golden lehenga, the soft sound of clinking anklets could be heard as she made her way down the hall of the wing set aside for the dornish court within highgarden. though the hour was late, and the hall mostly quiet, few others passed her on her way to the lord of yronwood’s chambers. hazel orbs seemed to fixate on the path in front of her, a habit she often found herself taking to within her very art - for when she had her mind set to one thing, it would take much to stop her.

a shimmer of gold approached the large oak doors, and after a quick knock she was let within the room. chestnut waves swayed back and forth as she entered, the very steps she took almost giving way to the natural rhythm of her body. her lips tugged upwards in a smile now. though her features remained playful as they ever were, there now held some predatory look within her eyes, the slightest dilation of one’s pupils as she looked upon the lord now, but one would need to be close to notice such a thing.

it begged the question of whether she was the predator, or the prey - something she had wondered earlier in the evening, and perhaps fell into being the latter given she had waltzed into his trap. though she were not some meek mouse in the clutches of a feline. there was enough of a hint in her eyes that indicated she, too, could be the cat, though she would not say he were the mouse, either.

thoughts played in her mind as she stepped further in, though still some paces from the other. the slight tilt of her head causing dark tresses to pour to one side of her shoulder, framing the same side of her face. “armaan.” she spoke now, his name rolling off of her tongue as a coy smile played upon her features, a slight dimple appearing upon her cheek. “kya aap chaahate hain ki main aapako in kakshon kee seema ke bheetar bulaoon?" ( is that what you wish me to call you within the confines of these chambers? ) a drop in formalities, his letter implied. it seemed clear there was no need for them here.

who: @dancingshores what: a note sent to zahra sand following armaan's departure from the wedding festivities of king cedric tyrell and lady illya oakheart. this is set following their interaction, currently in thread form.

Send a page before you make your way to my bedchambers.

The guards will know you are coming.

Keep the gold lehenga on.

Armaan

the dancer of salt shore had spun about the room, chatting with other guests of the evening and dancing to practically every tune that had been played this evening. she was making her way back across the room when a familiar voice beckoned her to sit with them. turning to see devani toland, a grin crept upon her face. in truth, it mattered not where most nobles came from, whatever squabbles were between them were not necessarily under her radar. figure slid into the chair across from the woman and plucked a golden goblet from a passing tray to partake in drinking dornish red. from the flush of the woman's cheeks, she had already indulged in plenty that evening.

zahra did not enjoy being within the walls of the red keep, almost suffocating in which it was flooded with tresses of silver any which way one would look. she would not really pretend to be entirely alright, either. the death of the qamar of the tor had wounded her more than she allowed herself to process at this point. this night in particular felt heavier, though perhaps it were the full moon that shone brightly in the night sky. regardless, believed she simply needed to get through this visit, and when they were back in dorne she would float around aimlessly, for a while.

"something good?" she snorted, a hearty laughter escaping her, almost to the point of hysterics. "well, if you can avoid the valyrians," zahra leaned in, attempting to be quieter in those words, but failing entirely. "some of these nobles are actually alright." she shrugged, taking a long sip of her goblet now. "i even played a game of cards with a couple of lords, pompous as they were."

@dancingshores

"come and sit with me." there was an air of finality to devani's voice as she beckoned the other woman over. it wasn't her way to watch the room, to weigh up her options before engaging in conversation - once her attention was caught, devi acted upon it. "have a drink. nothing dampens the spirits more than drinking alone, no?" she gestured to a jug of dornish red she had commandeered.

she missed essos. dorne had not been her home for so long that she hardly even considered herself dornish anymore. she was a child of the sun and the sea, at home wherever she found herself. her blood ran hot, her passions hotter, and she followed every whim as it rose within her. those whims were telling her to flee once more, to go back to the life she had when she abandoned her homeland the first time.

and yet, here she remained.

she allowed a brief moment to settle, to drink, before launching back into conversation. "i've been away from dorne for too long. if i'd have known things were this bad, i'd have stayed longer." she laughed, the sound edged in something a little bitter. "tell me something good. i'm not sure my little heart can bear much more doom and gloom."

a bag was slung over the shoulder of the dancer as she stood within the first minister's solar, no doubt wanting to converse about important dates to come. the stars often foretold what the gods had planned for them, and zahra had spent much of her life studying them under the guidance of her own father. the stars themselves led ships across the seas, and sailors back to their own homes, it was practically in her blood to find herself in a position where many questioned what the very sky itself had paved for them.

the formalities presented by the first minister brought a faint smile to her face, though she tried to play the part of refined lady, zahra had always though the lord of starfall to be incredibly serious in all matters, though she certainly appreciated the effort and niceties. "my lord." she responded.

his next words, however, struck her, and she could not hide the slight widening of her eyes at the observation. of course, she knew why that was, but no one had much such a bold statement. "i have never been compared to her grace, but she is a beautiful woman, so i will certainly take that as a compliment." zahra stated, purposefully being vague. "what dates do you have concerns about, my lord?" she questioned, hand dipping into her bag and pulling out a small journal and charcoal to write them down for future use.

| @dancingshores | | setting :: her faces freaks him out, he demands to know why. | | banter length |

Baashir wanted to talk to her about dates, it was why he called her there and set up this meeting but it wasn't going to work. He looked at her and he felt a strange since of familiarity and discomfort. The first time he glimpsed her, he couldn't recall when, he recalled turning and walking away from her and wondering why she had Myriam's face and now she couldn't be avoided. She was apart of court. She was in their court and it would be rude to ignore a member of court these days. No longer was he Myriam's personal guard, he was the first minister. The bridge between those around them and the stewardess or the little princess.

"Lady Sand." Baashir looked at her, studied her, watched her closely. He didn't think that was her title but the conservative Dornish lord would never feel comfortable with such familiarity. He already felt stranger speaking to her in a solar where only the two of them stood there, sat in a space as unmarried people. It made him feel ... it was hard to understand. Hard to work with.

"You have the same face as Princess Myriam Allyrion and I don't understand why. Do you know you share her face?" He furrowed his brow as he took a seat, he gestured to the chair in front of him. He didn't mean to start so bluntly but he needed to clear the air. Perhaps she would say the looked nothing alike, she would be a liar but he would let it pass. Or, or she also saw it and would pretend to not see it.

"Oh, and dates. I have questions about dates..."

…a dreamer. I walked enchanted, and nothing held me back.

Daphne Du Maurier, from Rebecca

the flickering candlelight cast long, wavering shadows across zahra’s face, highlighting the soft set of her jaw as she exhaled, slow and measured. her fingers, adorned with rings that glinted like distant constellations, curled ever so slightly against the silk of her skirts. she did not meet ruqaiyah’s gaze immediately. Instead, she allowed the silence to settle like a fine mist, let it coil between them until the moment felt stretched thin.

then, she smiled; small, but warm, though her fingers trembled slightly as she clasped them in front of her. “the stars,” she said gently, her voice a touch quieter than before, “do not whisper of things that have already come to pass. they do not carve fates into stone, nor do they weave tragedies before they unfold.” her gaze flickered upward, as if seeking their guidance even now through the ceilings above. “they only guide, only point the way. they are not cruel, nor are they kind. they simply are.”

she exhaled, a small, careful thing, before finally lowering her gaze to woman before her. “i would have given anything,” fahra admitted, “for guidance. For even a whisper of where she had gone. but the stars do not work like that. and i do not claim to see what has not yet happened.”

the words were measured, but there was a quiet ache beneath them, one she could not quite mask.

a small smile, careful and unguarded, curved her lips—more a breath than an expression, something caught between sincerity and sorrow. “but you must already know that,” she said lightly, a gentle deflection rather than a challenge. “you only wished to remind me.”

★

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.”

zahra laughed, a full sound that cracked through the night like a spark, unexpected and honest. it spilled out of her without permission, the kind that bubbled up from somewhere deep in the ribs, where longing and relief sometimes collided. she ducked lower into the water, letting it rise to her chin, her knees bent and her arms drifting out like wings on the surface. it felt good to laugh. too good. dangerous, maybe. a little indulgent. but she didn’t stop. her eyes glittered in the moonlight as she looked at myriam, something soft blooming behind them. “you’re mad,” she said teasingly, tilting her head. “completely mad. and i’ve missed it.”

for a while, she simply floated, arms outstretched, staring up at the wide mouth of the sky. her hair spread out in slow waves around her head like ink in water. silence pressed around her, not heavy, not lonely. just present. the stars were watching as they began to peak through indigo skies, same as always. their light didn’t judge. it never had. she sighed, voice low when she finally spoke again. “you ever notice how it’s easier to tell the truth when you’re not looking at anyone?” her eyes stayed on the sky, the colors blurred slightly from the damp upon her lids. “maybe that’s why the stage never felt like a lie. i wasn’t with them. not really. i couldn’t see their faces, just the lights, the music. it was like… like i stepped into another world the moment the drums began.”

the words left her, and for a moment, the silence pressed in. her gaze lingered on the stars, but something else flickered behind her eyes. not regret, not quite. something older. something quieter.

she could have said it then. could have turned to myriam and told her the truth that had lived beneath her ribs since she was old enough to understand why she never asked too many questions. that they shared more than time, more than songs. that the woman who placed a baby in a basket to float down the greenblood, had mothered zahra too. but zahra didn’t speak. she couldn’t. instead, she took in a long breath, and when she turned her head, her smile was faint but real. “alright,” she said with mock solemnity, casting a sidelong glance. “but if i get scolded by some concerned reach lord, i’ll drag you down with me. fair?”

she swam in a lazy arc toward the stone ledge, fingers slicing the surface. myriam had pointed it out earlier, and now it called to her like something inevitable. her body moved with a dancer’s grace even in the water, deliberate and sure. she pulled herself up onto the stone, water clinging to her in rivulets. the air kissed her skin, cool and fleeting, as she stood there hugging her arms loosely around herself—not from cold, but from thought. her eyes drifted to the horizon, to where the mountains folded into shadow and the world felt far too wide for old griefs.

“jasveer’s name,” she said softly, almost to herself. “i’ve been carrying it like it’s a story i need to keep alive. but it’s mine too. i want it to be memory, not a weight.”

she bent her knees just a touch, toes curled at the edge, breath catching in her throat. she didn’t count to three. she didn’t shout his name. but she thought it, like a thread tied to her ankle, like a blessing, like a farewell.

then she jumped.

the splash was clean and sharp, and the water rose to meet her like an open mouth, swallowing her whole for a breathless moment. then she broke the surface, gasping and laughing, hair plastered to her face, eyes alight with something too wild to name. “gods,” she sputtered, wiping her brow, “that felt better than it should’ve. you win. but only this once.”

without warning, zahra surged forward and flung herself into myriam's arms, arms wrapping tight around the other's shoulders. it wasn’t a dive or a swim or anything graceful, just pure motion, unfiltered and reckless. she was laughing still, breathless, eyes bright as fireflies in the dark. “your turn,” she stated, nudging her shoulder gently against myriam’s. “no hiding.”

❂

myriam stayed still as zahra eased herself into the water, watching her friend with the kind of focus she reserved for dance or strategy or poetry written in someone else’s hand. there was reverence in her silence, not distance. she wanted to absorb zahra’s words as they came, one at a time, not risk misunderstanding them by rushing to fill the quiet. she’d always believed her friend’s voice was most beautiful when she didn’t try to make it so. when it stumbled a little, or paused too long between words. that was when it was real. her own silks were loosening slowly, methodically, beneath the moonlight.

the choli she’d worn earlier—a deep rust colour with fine threadwork down the spine—slid off first, caught briefly on her elbows before she tugged it away with a soft sigh.

the long skirts went next, peeled off like ripe fruit, careful not to wet the hem, and folded over the dry stone bench behind her. only the bindi remained, a dot of black on her forehead. “mmm,” she murmured in agreement, her first sound in some time, low and velvety as she stepped to the water’s edge. a quick, feline glance around the garden confirmed it—no children had wandered near, no stray courtiers, no highborn fools fumbling in hedges. they were alone, and she intended to keep it that way. and then she stepped in, as if the water owed her something. there was no hesitation. her foot slid down into the pool and then the rest of her followed—dark curls trailing behind her like seaweed, like shadow, her body gleaming and unapologetic beneath the moon.

she wore her nudity not like armour, but like inheritance: ancient, queenly, hers by right. the water surprised her—deeper than she expected—and she laughed softly as she began to tread, the movement making soft waves around zahra’s hips. “you were right not to strip the whole truth down,” she said, glancing over at her friend with a curl of amusement at her lips. “clarity’s overrated. blissful ignorance... that’s where the comfort is. if you don’t know it, you can’t ache for it. you can’t miss what never reached you.” she tilted her head back, letting the water creep along her collarbones, her dark hair floating like ink around her. “i used to think knowing everything was a kind of power. but lately...” her voice trailed off, the shrug more elegant than defeat.

“some things are lighter when left untouched, doesn't it?”

she floated closer then, her arms cutting little crescent moons in the water. she was watching zahra carefully—not for signs of weakness, but for signs of depth, of things unsaid. “you know,” she said gently, as one would speak to something precious, something that glowed, something they could not believe was with them. “you’re carrying all of it so beautifully, my girl." she let her foot brush zahra’s beneath the surface—just a touch, a nudge. “and don’t let them make you feel like you owe anyone ease. not the court, not the dancers, not even jassie's memory. you’re allowed to feel heavy. you’re allowed to sink sometimes - just trust another will catch you.” myriam's arms were long and bare as she drifted closer, water coiling around her like silk spun from ink.

the pool held them gently—two constellations untethered from the sky, bobbing in its quiet cradle. she watched zahra with a soft patience, chin tipped just slightly as if she were listening to a song only her friend could sing.

her lashes were wet, casting faint shadows on her cheekbones, and her bindi remained stubbornly in place, a single black truth clinging above her brow. “come,” she said suddenly, voice low and filled with something half-playful, half-sincere. “we’re playing a game.” myriam was already backing a few paces through the water, treading slowly until she was at the deeper centre of the pool. moonlight lacquered her shoulders, made her seem otherworldly—like some forgotten goddess of fresh water and difficult truths. she lifted her arms, held them steady before her like an invitation wrapped in challenge.

"climb up there, let's yell something to no longer carry, and fall back on me. i won't let you hit the water wrong." and there it was—that grin again. the one myriam reserved only for those she truly loved, the one that twisted her usually composed face into something far more mischievous. for suddenly, she were six and ten in the shallow waters of the greenblood, wading throguh reeds and doing the same with dastan and hasaryn. she remembers shrieking with a mouthful of water as hasa pulled her under, or the time dastan emerged with a fish. she remembered the time she ran from a snapping stray baby turtle. “if you fall wrong on your own accord, i’ll scold your form like some bitter auntie at a debut dance,” she teased, “so do it properly, or suffer my commentary forever.”

eyebrows both rose as the prospect of a permanent position in sunspear, it was almost enough to cause flighty feet to find their ground, for once. almost. but it was all the reason why she continued to float around from place to place, wasn't it? life at court did not feel fitting for her, though she was not necessarily a lady, she could feel the weight of responsibility on her shoulders just being there, should she decide to do so on a long term basis.

however the princess offered another proposition to her, one where her wings could continue to spread as she pleased, and she need only teach upon her visits. it felt much more to her taste. though zahra could certainly use something to settle her at some point, even the opportunity to be near her blood, though the other did not know it, felt as if it might not be enough. perhaps it would be though, if the dancer found the courage to utter such truths, truths she feared would not be accepted by the woman before her.

and still, zahra did not want for much in life, except to dance. she had spent years on her craft, and she knew there was still more for her to learn, so much she could teach. yet, she felt, and knew, the best opportunity that could ever cross her path is being the teacher to the heir of all of dorne.

"perhaps one day." zahra answered in jest, a small sense of longing within her chest at the thought of actually of actually settling. it was certainly the affect that the woman before her had, to no fault of her own.

there was little moment of pondering, but her mind drifted to the days of traveling with her father. though he noble, she was on the outside looking in, able to come and go as she pleased even then, but her father gave in to her pleads to travel along with him, perhaps fueling her desire to wander around all of dorne. sunspear, by far, was her favorite place, and she had little qualms with visiting it more often, in an unofficial sense.

she gave a nod, chestnut curls shifting, and smiled at the other. "of course, your grace, i would be happy with such an arrangement." it was genuine, her words, though a slight sense of panic could be felt in the pattering of her heart. zahra managed to calm such a feeling. "i have much i would like to teach her as long as you will have me." she added, ideas already swirling in her mind on what techniques they would work on next, but she brought herself back to the conversation before her.

"she looks so very proud, she should be." zahra noted aloud as she watched the young girl amongst the others her age. "if i may ask, do you expect to depart the reach soon?"

dancingshores​:

the dancer had stood nearby to the side, just out of sight of the princess consort, but within sight of leila, should the young princess seek her teacher’s encouragement. zahra smiled, softly muttering a step-count to herself as she watched, though her gaze often drifted to the woman who sat nearby, who’s smile could rival the very sun in this moment. zahra felt a great sense of pride in such a thing, to not only see the beaming features of myriam, but to see her pupil shine just as bright.

yet, there was a small sense of longing, how different it might be if they knew who she truly was. she quickly put that to the back of her mind, as zahra maintained her focus on the reason she was here. to know that it was she who was sought out for this opportunity was a great honor, and she would not squander it with the hope that her sister would believe what she knew to be true. she heard of the fire that burned within myriam allyrion, and she could see it now even as it was tame, there was still some small flame, providing warmth to those around her, as could be seen in her very demeanor.

and as the thoughts crossed her mind, leila had completed her routine, and zahra exhaled, realizing in all that time she had held her breath, though it was not for worry that the young girl would not do well, but that dancing, performing always had a way of capturing her completely, she may very nearly drown in it.

zahra joined in, lightly clapping her hands, offering leila a bright smile and nod before she ran off to the other group of girls. and suddenly the princess consort was approaching her, the very way she walked spoke to her power and confidence. the dancer of salt shore maintained her composure, thankful that the excitement of what had just occurred was further heightened than any anxiety she may feel in this moment.

she gave an airy laugh, shrugging her shoulders in response to the question. “truly, she’s a natural, your grace. and she certainly inherits her skill from her mother.” zahra added, knowing very well of the other’s own skills in dancing, while a sense of joy came over her for being in the princess consort’s good graces. why would she ever risk such a thing?

“i am honored to have been her teacher. thank you for allowing me such a privilege.”

❂

this had been a day in which she had felt the most like herself in what felt like an eternity: one in which the dornish sun which consumed her burned bight, but did not entirely make her feel as though she had caught fire to herself. her kohl lined orbs flickered up briefly to the sight of her daughter, surrounded by other nobles girls her age: she prayed there would be a close connection that formed between them, so their support would continue in the years she would come to the throne. 

or would they merely flock around her like vultures, waiting for something to given, something to use? “she needs only the best.”

confidence seemed to come over her features at the words of the younger woman; whilst there was much she regretted over the course of her life, the dedication she had put into the skill of dance had never been one of them. the nights of bruised, sore feet were entirely worth it; even over what she thought was the watchful gaze of lady dayne. that gaze had ended up being a judgemental one; what she had not seen through her gaze of rose. there was not a part of her that regretted that; as though her body hardened as a shell, against the views of the outside world. 

“would you take the role on permanently?” she asked, her voice forward. she had heard rumours of how difficult it was get zahra to remained in one spot, traversing the dunes of dorne, the shores, the red mountains. a part of her felt a small sense of envy, to know the woman was as free the kites she used to fly as a girl with her brothers: and myriam was no kite. she felt more like the stone that held it down, a struggling ribbon. “at least whilst you are in sunspear. i hear your feet do not stop moving.”

there was something strong about the way myriam went about trying to get what she wanted. direct, forward, difficult to deny. and she wanted the best for her daughter, the very joy in her world; the sight of her running through hallways was enough to cause her shoulders to lighten, even just slightly. she wished to be here, a present mother; she wanted her leila to be happy. for her night meant night, myriam wanted her leila to know she need not ever wait for the night or the shadows of darkness to be who she truly was. 

“i will have you here, zahra. we can make adjustments, you need not join an official household should you not choose to. i will ensure all is cleared with the guards so you are able to venture in and out the palace, should you choose to remain within your haveli.” the woman had some distance with the dornish court; though she knew not why. “you need only tell me, and i will have it done.”

I was one of the lucky ones. Moonlight was always flowing within my sea-like heart.

Julia de Burgos

Cheppake Cheppake

  Mahasamudram (2021)