The Gardens Embraced Them With The Scent Of Flowers And The Soothing Murmur Of Water, Creating A Sanctuary

zahra crossed her arms in front of her chest at his comment, feigning her displeasure for his remark with expressive features, one's often seen in her dancing, for she never seemed to stop presenting her whole self for the world to see. it was for that very reason she dove so deeply into her art, it was truly part of her. "well, i'd like to see them try. shall i go back down to the great hall and challenge one of them?" she answered, a soft giggle of amusement at her own quip.

she were no fool to the thoughts running through their heads as they looked upon her, just as she were no fool to the lord of yronwood's clear disbelief in the cards he held in his hands, or the very stars in the sky - despite how greatly she believed in them. despite the things she noticed, it never seemed to affect her own demeanor. zahra continued on as she always would. "no matter if they knew me, they would still see me for what they believe i am." she stated, almost nonchalantly. she didn't think it mattered if she tried to convince them she were more than just warm flesh and foreign beauty. "but it is not one of their chambers i find myself in tonight." she added, almost to make a point that, despite her charade, it went no further than that for her.

"if it were not me they thought of, it would be another. many beauties from all over here in the reach." zahra insisted, reaching for the three cards he handed her with one fluid, graceful movement. "let's see if i can finally make a believer out of you." she winked, placing the cards face down in a row in front of her.

she flipped the first card. "the six of cups - this one represents innocence, childhood, memories. perhaps you've been dwelling on the your childhood, or past, lately, and seek comfort in an old friend." hand moved to the center card. "the tower - this reprehents a sudden change in life, upheaval, perhaps you're experiencing something unexpected?" she questioned, with a shrug, she turned the last card and a bright smile came over her face. "the star." zahra stated, "hope and healing, your future is filled with something brighter, a renewed optimism. perhaps whatever disruption is occuring is necessary for the future."

zahra waited a beat, not quite looking up at him from the cards just yet, until she did. "well? wrong again?"

꙰

"im sure even your reach men could outdance you, if you managed to put on the right music for them." his words were taunting now, light in the message rather than the normal seriousness that was in his tone of voice. armaan yronwood hated reachmen; both andal and old rhoynish, no doubt a reflection of the tensions that came with remaining on the borders with the other region.

then again, he detested even the stormlanders to the north, and their dragon overlords - he could still not fully understand how was it the mighty storm lords had accepted such a conquering; they had truthfully surprised the bloodroyal, in their ability to play the submissive partner and take the dominance of the dragon king.

"they were doing more than gawking." he responded, his tone pointed now, his gaze meeting her own knowingly; it was not hard for zahra sand to illicit lust from men. especially when they looked at her as though she were a kite they would try to master, some mythical being from a land far away. all dornish women were looked at in such a way: sexual deviants, and inherent threats due to their willingness to cross what was considered their norm.

"no doubt some poor woman was completely unaware of who her husband is thinking of in their marriage bed tonight." truthfully, a part of him expected that he would have discarded of her skirts by this point, with their bodies doing the talking for them: and instead, they sat lazily upon such velvet pillows, inhaling the smoke before exhaling it. he could not quite pinpoint where the change had happened: only, that it had.

her laughter at her blunder caused the first crack of a smile to cross his own features, finding amusement at the entire situation, rather than laughing at her directly. it was the confidence that had thrown him, and was enough to illicit chuckles coming from him as he leaned forward to take three more cards, one by one. "three cards for the fraudulent stars.' he responded, placing down them on the carpet.

zahra let out a soft hum, her fingers tapping idly against her arm as she watched him. armaan yronwood was sharp edges and coiled ambition, speaking of fire as though he could shape it with his hands alone. she had met men like him before—restless, hungry, eager to set the world alight. but he was different too, wasn’t he? not just all flame and fury. there was something deliberate in the way he spoke, in the way he watched her.

and oh, how she loved to be watched.

“you think fire is simple?” she echoed, amusement curling at the edges of her voice. “fire dances, armaan. it flickers, it tempts, it shifts before you can ever quite catch it. you think you hold it in your palm, and then—” she snapped her fingers, a playful grin flashing across her lips. “gone.”

she stepped closer, just enough for the light to catch in her eyes. “but i think you know that already. i think you like the risk of it, the not-knowing. you want to see what will burn, what will survive. you want to test the limits.”

her gaze lifted past him for a fleeting moment, drawn to the distant windows, to the sky beyond. the stars were hidden behind the golden glow of the throne room, but she knew they were there, burning just as they always had. eternal. untouchable.

when she looked back, he was still watching her, still waiting. his hand remained outstretched. an invitation.

she let the moment linger, stretching the space between them like a cat playing with a ribbon. and then, with a slow, deliberate motion, she took his hand. not submission, not surrender—just curiosity, just a game she wasn’t finished playing.

“i’ll walk with you,” she murmured, her thumb brushing absently over his knuckles before she turned toward the door. “but do not mistake me for one of your flames, armaan.” a smirk ghosted her lips as she let him lead her forward. “i do not burn for just anyone.”

as they stepped out into the warm dornish night, zahra tilted her head back, her dark curls shifting as she sought the sky. and there they were—her stars. scattered across the heavens like specks of silver on black silk, steady and shining, uncaring of wars or whispers. a soft smile curled at the corners of her lips.

"ah, always so focused on what lies ahead," she mused, her voice soft, almost teasing. she turned her head, her gaze meeting his with a glint of mischief in her eyes. "i wonder, when was the last time you looked at the sky? not for what it could offer, but just for what it is?"

꙰

armaan yronwood’s lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smile as zahra’s words wove their intricate web around him. her voice, smooth as silk, carried the weight of ancient wisdom and the intoxicating lure of chaos. he let the silence linger between them, the throne room’s warm light casting flickering shadows across their faces. the scent of burning incense mingled with the aroma of spiced wine, a heady mixture that seemed to amplify the tension in the air.

he let out a slow breath, his gaze steady and penetrating. “fire is fire, let's not complicate it with your poetry,” he began, his tone measured, as though each word was chosen with the utmost care. “it destroys, yes, but it also clears the way for new growth. sometimes, the old must be razed to the ground for the new to flourish. and sometimes,” he paused, a glint of something darker flashing in his eyes, “it is not about the harvest at all. it’s about the flame itself—the sheer, unrelenting power of it.”

he leaned slightly closer, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, though the intensity of his words remained. “great men must be the ones to set fire to the world, zahra. to watch it burn and to mould the ashes into something greater. it’s not enough to stand still and let the world turn around you. no, true greatness lies in seizing the reins of fate, in shaping the course of events, not merely reacting to them.” his gaze flickered to the doorway, the corners of his mouth curling in a subtle, almost predatory smile. the marches need defending, but more than that, they need to know where their strength lies.

the reach had grown complacent, and perhaps it’s time they were reminded of the fire that lies within dornish borders.

he straightened, the air around him shifting from contemplative to resolute. “i’m done with this conversation now,” he said, his tone carrying a finality that left little room for argument. yet, there was a spark of something else—an invitation, perhaps—in the way his eyes lingered on hers. he extended his hand, the gesture both commanding and expectant. “come walk with me, zahra. there’s more to discuss, about what is in front of us rather than whatever you are seeing in the sky.” he wanted her; he knew he wanted her. she knew he wanted her. he did not know why he was taking his time with it.

Aditi Rao Hydari in Heeramandi (Netflix, 2024)

the dark hues of zahra sand fluttered back and forth between the two lords - almost reminding her of an eager puppy and a unamused cat in the way they greeted her and subsequently in the moods they exuded. it caused her to wander where the stars fell in the sky upon their births, she was fascinated. when the golden-like lord asked her name, a grin spread over her features. "zahra." she answered, her name rolling off her accented tongue. "you are too kind to allow to join. i know not what we play, but i am quick to learn." she interlaced her fingers on the table in front of her, sitting comfortably upon the velvet seat as if she were in her own home.

the dancer reached into her pocket and placed a velvet pouch on the table. "so, what are the rules, what's the bet?" head tilted to the side as she awaited an answer from either. "and no need to go easy on me, i shall win or lose fairly." she gave a nod of affirmation, a semblance of natural pride upon her features, now.

@nicholaslannisters

It was a card game, one with shuffling and gambling. Nicholas was a gambler, sure -- but with his own life. People bet on him in the lists, the battlefield, his horses. This was… similar to battle, in a way, with having to strategize one's wager and cards, but…

He was loosing. But each time his hand had failed him, it had been met with a thunderous laugh and another round of drinks delivered to the table. It preyed on his pride, and when one had Lannister gold, well… he was determined he'd be on the winning side eventually. It was all fun, after all -- and after his mother's attempts in Riverrun… though the lord across from him was no comrade, there had been no reason not to play a few rounds. Win or lose, it was a coronation.

There were people to meet, people to… find.

But now there was a chance he wouldn't lose -- and so he greeted the beautiful woman with a wide, bearded smile.

Ever the chivalrous knight, he stood, gesturing to an empty seat. "You do not mind, Percy?" Use of a nickname, despite barley knowing him. Titles, despite carrying a heavy one of his own, floating completely over his head. "We could level the playing field, with lady…?"

@percival-templeton

the dim corridor was lit unevenly by flickering torches, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch and shift with every movement. the faint murmur of voices from the great hall echoed distantly, a reminder of the oppressive atmosphere they had both fled. zahra leaned back against the cold stone wall, arms loosely folded, her face an unreadable mask until ophelia came closer.

she tilted her head, offering a faint smile. “you have impeccable timing, as always. i was just debating whether staring at these walls long enough might inspire some grand revelation.”

her gaze flicked back toward the hall, her lips pressing into a thin line as ophelia described the stifling tension inside. zahra nodded faintly, her expression softening as she met ophelia’s eyes. “you’re not wrong. it’s like every word spoken in there has to be coated in honey or daggers, and i’ve had enough of both for one night.” her fingers traced the edge of the cool stone beside her, an absent motion that betrayed her lingering unease.

when ophelia’s tone shifted to concern, zahra hesitated, the flicker of a frown crossing her face before she shook her head lightly. “i’m fine,” she replied, her voice low but steady. “just... the weight of it all, i suppose. the lockdown, the waiting. it gets to everyone eventually.” she straightened, brushing invisible creases from her skirts. “but enough about me.”

she gestured toward the darker end of the corridor, where the torches cast fewer shadows. “a walk sounds good. somewhere quieter.” she stepped closer, her hand briefly brushing ophelia’s arm. “lead the way, and maybe tell me what you've been up to, lately, anything far removed from all of this.” zahra’s smile returned, faint but genuine. “i'd much rather hear your stories than get lost in my own thoughts right now.”

.

the great hall had felt suffocating. every glance, every carefully measured word, every shift in posture weighed heavy with unspoken tension. it was the kind of atmosphere that made ophelia’s skin itch and her heart yearn for air untainted by suspicion and formality. she had done her best to linger quietly—quietly for her, anyway—nodding when needed, offering a fleeting smile here and there. but even she could only endure so much of the heavy air before she needed an escape.

slipping out unnoticed wasn’t exactly her forte, but she managed, darting down a side corridor with a brief glance over her shoulder. the cool air in the hallway was a relief, and she let out a quiet sigh, smoothing her skirts and brushing back a strand of hair that had slipped loose. perhaps she could walk off this restlessness, at least for a moment.

it was then she spotted zahra further down the dim corridor, her silhouette lit by the soft flicker of torchlight. “zahra!” ophelia called softly, quickening her steps to catch up. her skirts swishing lightly against the stone floor. the flickering torchlight played across her features, softening her usual effervescence but not dimming it entirely. her hands fluttered for a moment, as if she wanted to reach out but wasn’t sure if zahra would welcome the gesture. instead, she clasped them in front of her. her expression brightened as she approached, though it was gentler than her usual exuberance, subdued by the lingering tension from the hall.

“oh, it’s dreadful,” ophelia admitted, lowering her voice as if afraid the shadows themselves might overhear. “everyone’s either scowling or whispering like their secrets might sprout wings and fly away if they’re not careful. i couldn’t take it anymore. i felt like i’d burst if i stayed another moment.”

she tilted her head, studying zahra more closely now, her healer’s instincts stirring. “you look troubled too. is everything alright?” her smile softened, a mix of care and curiosity. “you don’t have to tell me if it’s too much, of course, but i can’t help but notice you seem…” burdened was the word but she wasnt sure if it was best to say that. “well…something. if there’s anything i can do—or even just a listening ear—you know i’m always here.”

there was a pause, the faint sound of distant footsteps echoing behind them,opelia only gave it a glance before remaining focused on zahra. “i thought i might go for a walk to clear my head. perhaps you’d like to join me? i promise i can keep the conversation brief if you need a break—or, well, as breif as i’m capable of.” maybe somewhere a little more private would be best for them.

the fountains, for all their splendor, didn’t make for quiet, she thought as myriam’s figure slipped away, the soft click of her sandals fading into the night. the cool air felt strange on her damp skin, but zahra remained where she stood, the water swirling gently around her bare feet as if the fountain, too, had claimed her in some quiet way. she didn’t mind it. despite her love for the company of a woman bound to her by more than just friendship, but by blood, the silence that followed myriam’s departure suited her better than any words could, at the moment. in the distance, she could hear voices, laughter, murmurs of the court still alive with stories, distractions.

she exited the fountain, wringing out some of the water from her drenched skirts, hands deftly moving to her hair before she found her feet leading her towards a bench, one she would sit upon and gaze at the stars that began to peek through the last of the twilight stricken sky. until she heard a familiar voice. she hadn’t expected to run into armaan yronwood this evening, though she wasn’t sure why. perhaps it was just the strange sense that the world had a way of bringing the most unexpected things right to her feet.

“do i look like a lost wager to you?” she teased, taking some steps towards him, the grass dampening beneath her bare feet, her silks still clinging, but no longer dripping as the slight breeze dried them. “perhaps, but i assure you, no duck was involved. though, a fool might have been.” her fingers brushed the edge of the stone pillar, the soft scent of lavender and mint clinging to her skin.

“ordinary?” she echoed, the word rolling off her tongue like a question in itself. “no, i suppose this isn’t exactly what you might call ‘ordinary,’ armaan. but then, when have i ever been that?” her smile was wide, just a touch mischievous. "besides, drowning is far too dramatic a term, don’t you think? i was merely… cooling off.” she gave a little shrug, her damp hair glistening in the soft light of the garden. she wasn’t making a scene, but she was certainly not bothered by the fact that she was soaked to the bone. “sometimes, you just need to get your feet wet, see the world from a different angle.”

zahra watched him, that amused glint in her eye dimming to something quieter, more curious. she stepped around the lion statue, bare feet soundless on the damp stone, a petal or two clinging to her ankle. the moonlight caught in the water beading on her shoulders. “then let them overhear something else,” she said, flicking a little splash toward a cluster of reeds. her gaze slid sidelong toward him, unreadable but amused. “tell them you’ve traded fire for water. clarity. rebirth. all that.”

her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before she gestured toward the fountain, a playful glint in her eyes. "perhaps it’s time for you to take a dip, get a little clarity. the water’s lovely, if nothing else."

who: @dancingshores when and where: the verdant concord, within the gardens of highgarden; armaan yronwood waits to hear back from his messenger he sent to try overhear a certain conversation with a certain lord of starpike, when he comes across dorne's court seer. soaking, from head to toe.

he found her between the carved lions and the marbled fountains, standing as though the garden had spat her out from the hedges themselves—soaking wet, from the slope of her hooded crown all the way to the hems of her silks that clung like second skin. zahra sand, the court’s seer, looked a vision entirely removed from prophecy - not like he would ever openly admit it so, after calling her odd multiple times over the years. just, wet. and smelling faintly of crushed mint and wet stone, like something dredged up from the godswood.

armaan paused mid-step, blinked once, then again, taking her in with the flat expression of a man not quite certain whether he was being toyed with or made party to a jest he didn’t recall agreeing to. his arms were crossed loosely behind his back, the sort of stance that allowed thoughts to sharpen without betraying their weight. it had rained earlier—lightly, briefly—but not enough to soak anyone. nor had the sky opened up since. and yet, there she stood, water trailing down her collarbones in delicate rivulets, her hair darkened to black and curling wildly about her cheeks. he tilted his head, slowly, eyebrows raising just a hair.

“...do i even want to know, zahra sand?” his voice came low, dry, carrying the faintest rasp at the back of the throat; no doubt he too had indulged in much drinking this night, after spotting what appeared to be the distant figure of a man who appeared so much like jasveer from the other side of the window. it had for a moment truly stunned him and rooted him to his place, but when it was over, he found himself fighting back memories he did not wish to process.

“...you look as though you lost a wager to a duck,” he said at last, slowly, blinking once before letting his gaze drift from her drenched hair to the darkened hems pooling at her ankles.

he didn’t move closer yet, wary of the puddle forming around her bare feet, for he appreciated the silks he were currently adorning. “or are we pretending this is ordinary now?" he should have gone back to the alcove where he’d sent his man. the messenger would return soon—hopefully, with word of that starpike snake and whatever it was he dared mutter in shadows. but this? this dripping omen standing among the lilies? it pried his attention away from the games he had set in motion. too strange not to.

he tilted his head, a short, humourless laugh escaping through his nose. “new dedication to aquatic pursuits?” he gestured vaguely toward the puddle she was forming. “though i confess, i did not expect the prophetic arts to involve recreational drowning.” it was then he had a distant idea, one based on their previous conversation and how he could stitch it together so it could paint him in a certain light. zahra sand would not realise, but she could be of much use to him in this moment. too many people believed him to be responsible, he knew it; the suspicion, it was something he simply would not be having.

he paused, arching a brow. “this isn’t another metaphor about fire and fields, is it? because if you say the word harvest, i shall walk directly into that hedge. people overheard our conversation some months ago, and i haven't heard the end of it since.”

Aditi Rao Hydari in Heeramandi (Netflix, 2024)

there was an intriguing opposing force to the lord before her, who was so much her opposite, from their very demeanor, to many beliefs. it was almost a strange balance to converse with him regarding the stars, amongst other things, and zahra found herself compelled to understand more about the way he thought of things. in some way, she resonated with the perspective he held, despite the way zahra's optimism seeped from her, she was very aware that the world was not so kind, only that it were her best defense within it.

hazel hues watched as he prepared the shisha, the air already filled with the fragrant aroma from the coals lit before, it were hard to believe they were not in their own domain when this very room felt like home, in this moment. though if she looked closely at the decor around it, she would quickly realize it were not. hand reached for the goblet of arbor wine, finding it becoming more and more to her taste as she sipped the liquid within, allowing it to settle on her tongue a moment before swallowing.

the seer was an open-minded woman, as evidenced by her acceptance of the other's beliefs, despite clashing with her own. she did not expect everyone to see the stars and read the cards the way she did - and perhaps had life treated her differently she would've thought it foolish to lay ones fate based upon some planetary alignments at birth, based off some chance of pulling a specific card to detail one's life in that moment. his question made her think a moment, eyebrows pulling inward. "it's possible, but i would say it's not ideal to." she replied, setting her goblet back down on the table before her.

figure moved from sitting on the lush rug back to the velvet seat across from his own, still tucking her legs to the side, finding a relaxed position as she had before. "i don't think i'd be able to be unbiased with what i see." she added. "yes, well, that was a foolish lesson i certainly learned. as much as i enjoy it, it's difficult to deliver bad news, or even accept it." elbow propped up on the arm of the chair, chin resting in hand. "the tower is not one i usually care to see, but followed by the star?" zahra gave a sigh. "at least there's a light at the end."

his answer was brief and simple and yet zahra found herself further pulled by it, whether it was because she wasn't sure if he would answer at all, or if he would admit to having something he believed in. "fair enough." she responded, a hint of a smile on her features as the wheels fo her mind turned once again. "do you, perhaps, think rebirth is simply another chance, rather than a punishment?"

꙰

i hope to see it unfold for you. they were words that were uttered so calmly and casually, in the epitome of what it was to represent the milk and honey of human kindness: his gaze lingered over her features slightly in the aftermath of such words being uttered, almost as though his storm of a gaze was attempting to work out what it was she would get in return for such a belief. such a thing was a rarity, to see genuine human kindness was always enough to make him slowly pause in his process of thoughts - for whilst he believed himself beyond such capabilities, he had always held respect for those who maintained kindness in the hardest of times.

regardless of circumstance and past. he would defend the right of those to be kind should they wish to be, however unwillingly or unexpectedly he found himself doing so at times: armaan was of the understanding that not all had the same cards dealt to them in life - they were all different shades and hues, not only in their skin, but in their true self. whilst he held a great respect for those who maintained a firm grip on kindness in their lives, he always maintained that there was a time and place for such things - for there were times where kindness could prove to only disadvantage and undermine.

such was the tragic nature of his position; it was all too well to idealise the concept of kindness, but where did it fit in a world such as their own? when she maintained that she would have no issue in remaining, he merely nodded; he would not take to his bed anytime soon, and would have no issue in staying awake. and he wanted to stay awake. "do you ever draw your own cards?" he asked, a genuine sense of curiosity coming over him as he looked over at her, moving to the other side of the room to organise for another hookah to be brought up, alongside the coals and the splint that was needed to light it. "or does that go against the conduct of seers?"

he set it up with a sense of ease, rolling the sleeves of his black kurta up to his forearms as he did so to ensure it did not catch and end up igniting him, listening as she spoke to him of her altercation with a sailor. people did not like hearing what it was that unsettled them, even if they had asked; and sailors were known to be rough in their nature. his brow furrowed ever so slightly, extending the new pipe to her - this time there were two. "none would wish to see the ten of swords. but if one asks for it, they have dug their grave." he spoke, sitting back down opposite her now; leaning backward to rest his back against the recliner. "and do you try to avoid thinking of it as you pass on the news?" he asked; considering she was the bearer of such awful news to those who had sought guidance from the stars.

at her question, his brows raised slightly - perhaps because he had not been expecting a question based on his own beliefs. what was it armaan yronwood looked at for guidance? he did not remember the last time he had genuinely asked for guidance from the gods; that was not to mean he did not worship or believe in them. he valued them, and worshipped them for their sovereignty. "the seven who are one." he responded, his tone almost anticlimactic. "we are bound to be reborn, until the gods decide we have done enough to join them in the heavens. no punishment that is not another life in itself."

ADITI RAO HYDARI in Hey Sinamika (2022)

her eyes met his, and she couldn't help but notice the depth of emotion that lingered within them, as it always seemed to even some years ago. It was as if they were silently communicating, understanding the unspoken words that hung heavy in the air between them. the memories of their shared history flooded her mind, and she couldn't help but wonder what could have been, if they had chosen a different path, still, zahra never lingered long upon what might've occurred in her life had she made different choices. in truth, she didn't have regrets, and she very much enjoyed where she was at this point.

it seemed so silly now, to have let so many years slip by with not so much as a hello between them, though the lack of conversations and staying connected did not stem from a place of anger. perhaps in a way, they had both outgrown the relationship they had, the different paths they took providing clear evidence of such a fact. zahra was admittedly glad that he had eventually found what he was looking for for his home, a strong, beautiful wife to serve by his side.

though thoughts rushed through her mind like the currents of the greenblood, she did not feel bouts of anxiety creeping in her stomach, nor hoped to quickly end the conversation as soon as it began. zahra felt an overwhelming sense of peace, and perhaps this was simply the beginning of a new chapter for them, as the last had long been concluded. if she felt any emotion that might be evoked within her features, it was that of hope and happiness to have someone who was always so important to her in her life yet again, even in small doses such as passing by one another in the halls of sunspear.

"and you." she replied, suddenly realizing the breath she had held released, almost as if she was releasing the curtains she had drawn over herself, unsure if this encounter would provide some sense of solace for what had occurred between them in the past, or if perhaps there would be tensions. though she had braced herself for something, the moment he spoke she felt entirely foolish for it. it was entirely out of character for the rashid she knew to grasp onto such things and let wounds fester.

"still dancing." a soft laugh left her, the ease of speaking to the lord of tor coming over her now. "the princess invited me to teach her daughter, and i certainly couldn't refuse such an offer." though zahra hesitated to find herself planted in one spot, she was glad for many reasons to find an excuse to walk the halls of sunspear more often. "and you? i hope things have been well. i would certainly like to visit the tor again sometime." aside from her connection with the man before her, her time there had provided her with dear memories and friendships, along with things she would rather forget.

صبر

for all the theatrics and the drama that seemed to follow in the footprints zahra sand would leave within the golden dunes themselves, it were never the sort that were emotionally taxing: drama came in the form of flamboyant movements, of laughter, of facial expressions that said everything before her lips even parted. never was it raised voices and arguments, which is why when their end came, it came quietly; that slow wonder of whether there was anything wrong between them for them to be feeling on such opposites pages of the same book the way they did.

the morning sun made strands of her hair appear more auburn in some streaks as they sat beside one another, listening to the distant sounds of a flute playing in the time where silence sat between the pair of them; the tune of that flute had remained imprinted into his mind, even now, so many years later. that had been the conversation in which they addressed the clear differences in their lives, and in what they wanted from them; coming to the ultimate conclusion that there was no way for them to continue in their adoration and devotion to one another without one sacrificing what they needed, or wanted.

truthfully, he knew not why he had hesitated on merely bridging the gap between them and approaching her: instead, finding silent humour in the fact that the both of them had paused in their journey to merely stand some spaces away from one another. he were glad to hear the sound of his name leaving from her lips in a tone that showed there was no resentment or anger, for it was the exact same as what she would find within him; only, there were moments where it seemed the nerves seemed to swell within her. and it were impossible not to notice, considering the look she shared upon her face: she may as well have started moving her feet from side to side, to quell out the nerves.

"zahra." he greeted in response to the uttering of his name, taking some steps forward to meet her, always meeting her right in the middle. his choice of language was not awkward or strained, but rather with a degree of warmth to it: for despite the years that had gone in their natural separation, he was happy to see her. in sunspear of all places, walking with a degree of comfort and ease around the majestic halls which seemed to suggest this was hardly to be the last time he came across her here. "it is good to see you." and his words were genuine, for he meant them: he were able to look upon her, and not feel as though he were inwardly spiralling.

he were able to look upon her, and have an immense love for the history they had once shared with one another: without feeling as though he were nothing.

to make homes out of people is folly, was what he had spoken to dastan allyrion some days ago; and here was the woman that had taught him such a thing. he only cared for her more for it. he raised a humble hand to his chest as he accepted her congratulations, nodding his head; looking around at the marriages in dorne, he were more and more thankful for his wife each passing day. "thank you. the gods did bless me that day." he spoke, his tone warm in thinking of it. he looked upon her, taking her in almost: not in a way that suggested lust, but in a way that was reconnecting.

"and i guess it was only a matter of time before you found yourself in sunspear. what are you doing these days?"