There Was An Intriguing Opposing Force To The Lord Before Her, Who Was So Much Her Opposite, From Their

as the liquid ran itself over her tongue, she could understand why he would say such a thing. zahra had little opportunity to indulge in such a drink, normally preferring to opt for dornish red, or a spirit her father brought back from one of the free cities after a time of sailing and conducting his affairs. she found it strange he preferred to conduct his business himself, though at the same time, she understood it. it was easier to leave salt shore to the heir, her trueborn sibling, as they would one day take the keep for themselves. given her entire existence, to begin with, it likely allowed him more freedom to indulge in business beyond trade: pleasures. the thought itself nearly brought a humorous smile to her lips as she thought of the conversation she entertained with lord yronwood earlier in the evening.

not so long ago the pair conversed in the great hall amongst other nobles, and now she stood here before him in his chambers alone, silks of gold against her skin almost giving the impression she glowed like the sun. hazel orbs observed the darkened coals turning red as they were lit by the lord whilst he continued to casually converse with her.

"if you are a traitor, then i suppose i am, too." she jested, giving a slight raise of her goblet before taking another long sip. the dancer glid over to the velvet chair across from him, taking a seat of her own and tucking her legs to the side of her while an elbow came to rest upon the chairs arm.

gaze broke from looking at him as he spoke of her being rumored to be the lady of the tor, and truthfully it was not something that was not unknown to her. it was even considered by her. some might call it self-sabotage, foolishness to reject an opportunity to rise from the position of her birth - but it simply didn't feel right for her, despite her relationship with rashid. "the princess loreza is far better for such a role." zahra stated simply, a beat of silence before she grasped the hookah that was offered and took small inhale of the smoke, allowing it to linger within her lips for a moment before i softly emitted from her mouth.

when he spoke of cards, there was a shift within her, eyes lighting up slightly as she handed the hookah back to him. "it's not always easy to read peoples feelings, they are ever-changing." she insisted with a grin. "you did not strike me as someone who would care to be read." hand dipped into a pocket within her dress, pulling out a deck of cards she tended to keep on hand. "or would you?" brows rose teasingly, though she hoped he would accept the offer.

꙰

there was a sense of ease that seemed to come over the ruling lord of yronwood as the dancer of salt shore continued to waft her way through his personal apartments within the wing of highgarden; a sense of ease that did not come in the form of cockiness or arrogance, which was most unlike him - but rather a sense of quiet contentment and amusement to watch the way in which her figure made it's way around his rooms almost as though she had walked into her own rooms.

"call me a traitor for admitting it tastes better than the dornish." the wines of the arbor came from the other sort of rhoynish that filled the continent of westeros, those who were more different to them than one could have expected; it sometimes felt as though they sometimes even had more similarities with andals than their fellow rhoynish.

and whilst his words were about wine, the casual, almost husky tone in which he spoke made it appear as though it were some illicit suggestion of something else. and perhaps it was, to gage her reaction; he noticed not as he leaned forwards to light the hookah that remained from some hours earlier, allowing it time to heat up against the hot coals. and whilst she continued to coquettishly twirl her way around the room, he remained; almost as though his own stillness was the centre within the room, the gravitational pull.

her bold confirmation caused the flicker of a smirk to cross over dark features, continuing to look at the way in which the coals beneath the hookah glowed amber: it were something the reachmen did, and thus, was easy enough to get a hold of, and he merely held it in his hand as it began to warm up. silently, he offered her the hookah; leaning back upon the velvet recliner as he rolled one of the sleeves of his black kurta up his forearms.

"because, if memory serves me correct, you were readying yourself to play lady of the tor." he replied, his voice utterly casual, flat in how direct he was to the point; yet there was not an inch of irritation to him. "that is what everyone thought, aside from yourself it turns out." it was not well known what happened, and yet, armaan remembered the news being broken by rashid to himself and baashir alike. he remembered the way in which his brows had furrowed, confused as to why such a thing would not have gone through when it appeared perfect - and it made sense now. sometimes, things that seemed perfect were cursed to be more tainted than any other.

"who knows. nothing happened, after all." he referred to the time she had spent within yronwood, alongside her father: known for his commerce. he remembered watching the way in which he spun his networks of money, of gold, and thus of influence. "just ended up being something the both of us stayed quiet about. stay quiet about." he added, making it clear to her; even now, years later, he had not mentioned the fact that he knew of zahra sand before the apparent first time he had come across her in the tor. things had ended up the way they were supposed to in the end. "you ask many questions for a seer. still doing your cards thing?"

the gardens embraced them with the scent of flowers and the soothing murmur of water, creating a sanctuary within the bustling court. zahra's guarded exterior seemed to loosen in myriam's presence, revealing a woman who, despite the complexities of her role, cherished the connections that transcended the political intricacies of the position of the princess consort. the offer was more than a business transaction, of that she was certain, or perhaps hopeful of. she did not think the offer would be given to just anyone, there was a level of trust that was extended to her, and she knew it would be unwise to allow that to pass.

"today it is, then." zahra responded, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. her voice carried the weight of experiences untold, yet in myriam's company, there was a subtle vulnerability that lingered beneath the surface. she appreciated myriam's efforts to tether her, to not let the winds she allowed to carry her do so as easily as she often found them to.

the mention of the powers that surrounded them brought the dancer's mind back to the intricacies of politics that surrounded myriam's position. she appreciated the woman's relaxed nature in her presence, feeling the same semblance of peace around her as well. though perhaps there was an inkling feeling of guilt that pricked at her like a thorn upon one of the many roses that surrounded them. she knew so much more than she spoke of, and yet, she wondered if the other would find joy in the discovery of a familial connection, or distress in finding there was more in her life unknown to her. would she even believe her?

and so she put such thoughts to the back of her mind. perhaps there would be a time to speak of it. zahra was simply happy for the natural connection that seemed to be forming between the two.

a melodic laugh left her at myriam's quip, giving a playful shrug of her shoulders. "what's a dance if not having an element of surprise?" she asked, tone lighthearted, suddenly feeling the sticky heat upon her neck as well as she moved dark tresses over one shoulder to allow the little breeze that blew to cool her off. "oh yes, everything is well. there are just some things i'd like to sort out, and i think i may depart before the rest of the court." though she would not be far from her own haveli, she wanted to ensure things were going well there before she would be away from it even longer than now. often zahra checked in to ensure things were going over smoothly. the lifeline she had created for herself and built upon her own two feet was of great importance to her.

"i promise, i will not stray far." she added with a grin.

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?”

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?"

Cheppake Cheppake

  Mahasamudram (2021)

the quiet of the corridor wrapped around them, the flicker of torchlight casting the two women in a dance of light and shadow. zahra’s steps were measured, slower than her usual lively gait, but her grip on ophelia’s arm was steady. her lips quirked upward as her friend recounted the story of the parrot, though her gaze lingered briefly on the cold stone wall.

“a parrot with an oldtown accent?” zahra’s voice, low and lilting, carried a trace of amusement. “now that’s a sight i wish i’d seen. perhaps it could take my place in court—i’m sure it would charm the nobles more effectively than I ever could.”

her laugh was soft, but her usual spark flickered beneath it, subdued. she let the other's words wash over her like a gentle tide, grounding her in the present moment. when ophelia squeezed her arm, zahra tilted her head, glancing at her with a warmth that only deepened as her friend’s stories continued.

“you have a talent, you know,” zahra said, her voice smoothing into something more contemplative as they walked. “for finding the extraordinary in the ordinary. it’s a rare gift.” her fingers brushed lightly against the cool wall, as if the action steadied her.

she exhaled, her smile softening. “tonight feels… heavier than most. but your stories—they remind me that not everything has to carry weight. sometimes it’s enough to simply walk, to laugh, to hear of clever birds and bold parrots.”

her lips curved into a conspiratorial grin as she leaned closer, her tone lighter now. “but i’ll hold you to that promise of a treat. once we’ve had our fill of this peace, we’ll find something more lively. dancing, wine, music—i’m not ready to let the night end quietly just yet.”

she paused mid-step, her expression softening as she turned to ophelia, her dark eyes glittering with newfound enthusiasm. “why don’t we go feed the birds?” she suggested, her voice taking on its usual lively cadence. “it’s quiet, it’s simple, and i’d bet you’ve a knack for charming them with all your tales. perhaps we’ll even spot this infamous fig thief.”

.

ophelia’s expression softened as she saw zahra’s faint smile, though the shadows and tension in her words didn’t escape her notice. the flicker of unease in her friend’s motions—the way her fingers lingered on the cold stone—was a language ophelia understood well. still, she didn’t press further. instead, she offered one of her radiant smiles, like the warmth of the sun breaking through a cloudy sky.

“i don’t know about grand revelations, but staring at walls does sound dreadfully dull,” she teased lightly, looping her arm through zahra’s as they began to walk. her steps were unhurried, her voice brightening as she spoke. her eyes glanced down the darken hallway then back to her friend “you know normally i would say let’s find somewhere with a bit more life to it but perhaps the quiet will do us some good”

she glanced over at zahra, her lips quirking into a small, conspiratorial grin. “and if i must provide the entertainment to keep your thoughts at bay, then you’re in for a treat! let’s see… oh! did i tell you about the time i saw that merchant parrot who actually talked? truly, zahra, he had the most delightful accent. he sounded like he was straight out of oldtown, if you can believe it. he was trying to sell spices, of all things. i nearly bought some just to keep him talking, but i got so distracted i walked away without buying anything!”

her laughter was soft but genuine, echoing faintly in the empty corridor. “and, oh! the birds in the water gardens have been terribly entertaining lately. one of them stole a fig right out of a servant’s hands yesterday. i swear it was cleverer than half the people in the great hall tonight.”

ophelia squeezed zahra’s arm gently, her voice softening as she added, “see? far removed from all of this. and if you’re lucky, i’ve got a dozen more ridiculous tales to share before we reach wherever we’re going. unless....is there something you would like to share?" she said gently not wanting to push her friend. she would happily jump back into telling her stories but she didn't want zahra to think she wasn't willing to listen.

the garden had stilled around them, as if even the ivy and jasmine were listening. only the faint music from the distant festival threaded through the hedges now, soft and broken, like a half-remembered song.

zahra stayed seated for a long moment, fingers smoothing over the fabric pooled in her lap. she heard the plunk of myriam’s jewelry being shed, the rustle of cloth loosened from skin, but she couldn’t move just yet. her eyes drifted over the courtyard, checking the slant of every shadow, the murmur of the leaves, the glimpse of stone paths winding into the dark.

still no one. at least, no one focused on anything but themselves. here, it was only them. only this small, secret moment.

slowly, her shawl slid from her shoulders in a whisper, pooling forgotten on the stone. she reached up and unclasped her bangles, one by one, the metal cool against her warmed skin. she set them beside her, neat and careful, then unpinned her delicate earrings. the night air whispered over her arms, bare now except for the sleeveless choli that clung to her ribs and shoulders, the deep burgundy silk catching the stray lantern light like a secret.

her skirt shimmered slightly when she shifted, the intricate embroidery swallowing the colors of the dusk. she hesitated again, her hands brushing the ties at the back of her choli, thoughtful. myriam had shrugged out of her own jewels so carelessly, laughing and half-ready to strip the night from her skin without a second thought. zahra almost followed her lead, the temptation of that wildness stirring, but she caught herself, fingers lingering a moment too long before she let the ties be, for now.

zahra stepped lightly to the water’s edge, pausing for a heartbeat to glance back through the gardens, a watchfulness she could not quite lay down. then, gently, she dipped one foot into the pool. the water was cool and clean, a sharp little kiss against her skin. a breath escaped her, more a sigh of relief than surprise.

"I have been quiet," zahra said, her voice a low murmur that barely stirred the air between them. she wiggled her toes in the water, sending shy ripples outward. "i think...at court.." she paused, choosing her words with care, "...it's heavier than i thought it would be. i’m grateful. i’m glad for the work, the music, the dance... i love it."

she looked up at myriam then, her expression open and unguarded, the way it rarely was anymore. "but sometimes," she continued, dipping her other foot in, skirts floating up like soft petals, "there are little things—voices, glances, songs half-heard, that remind me of things. of jasveer. of the volantese. the borders. other kingdoms, that perhaps i feel better if i didn't know."

zahra let herself sink until the coolness lapped just beneath her ribs, arms floating loosely at her sides, face tilted toward the ink-blue sky. the stars seemed closer here, reflected in the trembling surface around them.

she opened one eye, peeking over at myriam with a faint, crooked smile. "the water must be working already," she said, playful but warm. "i’m spilling secrets like wine at a wedding."

❂

myriam was holding her heels in one hand and a bruised plum in the other, and somehow neither seemed more dignified than the other. the stone was cool beneath her bare feet, but she liked it that way—it reminded her she was still warm. in her mind, she heard the sounds of quickened breath in the distance: the third set of lovers they had come across this night in these mazes. she quietly whistled as they walked by, still holding her heels but glancing at zahra, about to open her mouth to disrupt them but the whistle was more than enough.

"oh, he's found her button." she whispered to her best friend, giggling slightly in a way she usually did not - a hand resting over her lips as they continued to wak quicker, considering the whistle brought the couple to a sudden stop.

she had taken to walking barefoot through the mazes of highgarden this night after being on the dance floor, as if they belonged to her, weaving through whispering hedges and lingering jasmine with zahra at her side, the scent of wine still on her breath but her mind entirely lucid. she wasn’t drunk. she was in bloom. “clarity,” she said, repeating the word with a touch of disdain and mischief, the way one might say virtue at a brothel. “if i wanted clarity, i’d ask one of those no-lipped septas to shriek it at me from a pulpit, not come whispering for it at a pool.”

the water shimmered as if offended. myriam didn’t care. she was grinning. she wandered a little closer to zahra, her hips swaying lazily with each barefoot step, her long skirts brushing against her calves like whispers from an old lover. “you talk as though you think this pool knows you?” she said, voice curling low and affectionate, the sound of her anklets jingling as she walked with a spring in her step. “i’d like to see it try.” she stepped up onto the rim of the pool, arms stretched a little for balance. the surface reflected the bruised dusk above and the halo of torchlight around her limbs. the water trembled at her feet, a pale sliver between stillness and chaos.

“if this thing really grants clarity,” she continued, glancing down at zahra with a breathy laugh, “then gods help it. i’ve half a mind to dive in and make it mine.”

the wind stirred her thick cascade of hair, carrying with it the sweet, faintly fermented breath of fruit wine and garden blooms. she tilted her head as she looked down at her friend, her dark eyes narrowing with a sultry warmth that was not flirtation but devotion, of the sort only shared between women who had known each other long enough to see through most masks. zahra was thinking too much again. myriam could see it in the angle of her shoulders, in the way she folded herself like parchment—something once danced upon, now waiting for ink.

“you know,” she said softly, stepping down beside her, sinking gracefully onto the stone edge of the pool with legs folded like silk, “you’ve gone quiet lately. it’s not your silence—it’s what you aren’t saying in it.”

and still, as they spoke, myriam's hands moved to unclasp the jewelery from around her hips, shimmying out of it as well as what was around her neck. whilst she fancied a swim, she would not get her gold wet. she then moved to unclasp her blouse's halterneck style, half tempted to at least strip her top half bare if she were to go swimming. "come in with me? we can float and yap away."

as the dance concluded zahra flashed a grin to the young lord who had accompanied her, though she had no clue what his name was at this moment in time, she already decided she quite liked him, and would enjoy conversing with him more this evening. of course, just as quickly as the thought fluttered into her mind, the glass shattered with the sound of clapping from the lady ruqaiyah dayne herself observing nearby.

round eyes looked from the lady, back to her partner for a moment as the exited the dance floor, she gave a subtle nod of thanks, and hoped perhaps he could see her intentions to find him again when she were done, though she had a feeling she would be occupied for some time, and so she let the idea of reconciling with the other fade from mind as she offered ru a sweet smile, zahra's more genuine than the lady's before her, but she could see right through the other woman's facade. it were hardly being disguised.

zahra had known the other for quite some time, of course not in any personal way. she recalled the ladies callous nature, in the tor she were entirely unapproachable, so she thought, and yet she had recalled how farah seemed to grow on her, at least so it seemed, before that fateful day.

the dancer allowed ruqaiyah to lead her away, though she would not have fought it, anyways. despite her court-appointed position, despite her status in dorne not being seen as lowly as most of the continent, she knew house dayne's ideaologies were different, the westerlands views were different, even if she wanted to protest, she had no ground here. and yet, she would not have, even if she did. for that was simply the nature of zahra sand, to let the winds take her and face the next moment in her life in stride.

"i apologize, had i known you were in search of me, i would not have taken to the dance floor." she replied, simply, feeling a flush of frustration prickling at her cheeks and eyes, hopefully hidden by the mask upon her face. zahra gestured to a seating area, just out of the great hall, a quieter place for conversations to be heard "is there something you are concerned about?"

who: @dancingshores when and where: lann's day celebrations within casterly rock, ruqaiyah dayne comes across a nobody who has been climbing the ranks of importance within the court of sunspear. how she hates it.

she had noticed it briefly first, orbs passing over the scene as she found herself engaging in conversation with the hand of king cedric of house tyrell, and then her gaze snapped back to it again.

a familiar figure and voice, all sweetness and honey with long thick dark hair behind a mask; and a head of blonde hair she did not recognise, dancing upon the floor. it was enough to cause her to look upon it, making no attempt to even be subtle; what a scene. this was hardly a surprise, was it? the woman had seemingly given up on her mission of being the most unreliable, detached string in the realm and had instead decided to climb the ranks of court - and climbing the cocks of reachmen.

the music came to a slow as the dance began to end, and she found herself winding her way toward the woman she suspected, and the man that would later be confirmed to be lord gael hightower. and when the dance ended, ruqaiyah had no issue with a slow, sarcastic clap for the duo; slipping right to the side of zahra sand, the dornish court seer.

"amazing." ruqaiyah spoke, her tone gushing in falsehood; and yet, she maintained the gaze of them both. would the reachman see her deceit? no doubt zahra sand would, instantly.

and then she switched to their native tongue, a smooth and seamlessly transition as she feigned a friendly move of putting her hand on zahra's forearm, as though to usher her away. "is the court seer too busy planning on spreading herself on the white man to do the ridiculous job given to you out of pity?" myriam allyrion's favourite pet, was what ruqaiyah called her. all the while, not once did she think of the sister she had left for dead on the borders of the tor. the blood that was never upon her hands.

"i want my palm read. save embarrassing us for later and do your job."

setting : somewhere outside of highgarden, starter for @xialigreenleaf

the reach had been an interesting visit, to say the least. zahra did not much have the opportunity to travel, but she was glad she was able to see these lands. they were so green and fruitful. beautiful, and and still she preferred the sands of dorne over all. the endless sunshine upon her skin.

she was lost in her own thoughts, as she could often be, dreaming of other things. it was a downfall, some might say, to not always be fully present, but zahra found a balance in both presence and dreaming, so she believed. eyes wondered around at the landscape and architecture surrounding her, when suddenly they set upon a familiar figure. one she knew quite intimately.

the woman of the north had been more than just whims of passion when the two had met some time ago during the dornish talks, she had actually become a great friend, someone zahra genuinely cared for. they found companionship in their curiosities about lands other than their own, able to sate the other with stories of the northern mountains and dornish shores respectively. she did not think she would often again see the other, until this moment.

“hello, xia-li.” the raven haired woman spoke, lips curled upward into a friendly smile, one that reached the corners of her eyes.

the dancer of salt shore sat with her back to the fire, her silhouette outlined in gold as she met her friend's gaze. she could feel the weight of the unspoken stretching between them, as tangible as the heat on her skin. myriam’s words hung in the air, sharp and deliberate, cutting through the quiet like a blade. she hadn't expected the evening to bring the weight of such a conversation, but looking at the babe sleeping soundly in the other's arms, she knew why myriam's heart pulled her towards a solution, towards peace.

zahra took a slow breath, her fingers brushing idly against the fabric of her tunic. “you’re right,” she said, her voice calm but threaded with something heavier. “volantis is a labyrinth of power plays and hidden motives. the wrong move could cost us more than we can afford.” she leaned forward slightly, her eyes reflecting the firelight. “but the right one… that could change everything.”

she leaned forward now, resting her elbows on her knees, her fingers loosely intertwined. the volantene woman—their mother—was a risk zahra couldn’t fully calculate. she had seen firsthand how that woman moved through the tangled web of politics, manipulating the threads to her advantage. bringing her into this could open doors, yes, but it could also pull them into her orbit, where trust was currency and loyalty a fleeting thing.

but myriam wouldn’t let this go. zahra knew her well enough to see the resolve beneath the questions, the quiet determination in the set of her jaw. if zahra tried to divert her, it would only deepen the cracks forming between them.

after a brief moment, she sighed, her eyes flickering back to the fire. "if memory serves me right, she seemed to be a favored paramour amongst them,” she said finally, her voice low but steady. “she sees more than most, and she knows how to use it. people like her… they deal in power, not kindness. if we involve her, we have to be prepared for the cost.”

her hands tightened slightly as she glanced at myriam. “but clarity is something we can’t afford to ignore. i’ll get her name,” zahra said, her tone carefully neutral. the fire popped again, sending a small burst of sparks into the air. zahra leaned back slightly, her face shadowed. not every door that opens should be walked through. the words formed in her mouth, but never made a sound, only uttered in her mind as the babe began to stir again. zahra used the moment to redirect the conversation, a hand reaching towards inaaya, fingertips gently brushing her hair.

"you did so well, myri-jaan. she's so beautiful." she looked up at her friend, now, her didi. "we'll find peace again, for her. for leila."

❂

the firelight danced across the polished floor, reflecting faintly in myriam’s wine-dark eyes as she listened to zahra speak. the comet burned in her mind, as vivid as it was in the sky, a reminder of both possibility and peril. a sign of change, she thought, her lips pressed into a thin line. but change for whom? and at what cost? zahra’s voice was steady, measured, but myriam could feel the tension threading beneath her words. there was something unspoken there, a careful avoidance that pricked at myriam’s senses. she had known zahra long enough to read her silences as well as her speech, and tonight they spoke louder than the fire between them.

or was she overthinking it? was she overthinking everything? did she just wish to appear as though she understood something of the greater political sphere?

“volantis is always complicated,” myriam said finally, her voice low but sharp, like the edge of a blade hidden in silk. “their alliances are as tangled as their politics, and their promises as slippery as sand through fingers. but you’re right. we cannot act rashly, not with so much at stake. our people are defending our order...perhaps even pushing into it.” she briefly remembered the conversation she and ryon wyl had so many months ago, where he had showed her a map. nightsong, had been circled. he wanted it.

“that volantene woman, the one with the bright eyes.” myriam repeated, glancing toward zahra, her expression thoughtful. “she was sharp, wasn’t she? shrewd. i remember thinking she could see through a person with just one look.” a faint smile ghosted across her lips, tinged with something darker. “but you’re right—people like her always have their own agendas. if we approach her, we do so carefully. no promises, no commitments.”

can she even be trusted? the question lingered in her mind like a stone in her gut. the volantene woman might have information they needed—routes, connections, whispers of plans across the sea—but myriam knew better than to believe help would come without a price. her fingers tightened slightly on the chair. “still… she may offer us clarity. even if not her help.”

but even as she spoke, myriam couldn’t shake the feeling that zahra knew more than she was saying. there was a distance in her friend tonight, a shadow of something hidden. what are you not telling me, zahra? the thought came unbidden, but myriam pushed it aside. there were already too many secrets between them—and too little trust to uncover them now. "can you get me her name?"

the grand throne room of sunspear shimmered in the soft light of the afternoon, its stone floors reflecting the muted gold and red of the setting sun. zahra sand moved through the crowd with practiced ease, her presence undeniable but never forceful. she was a part of the court, woven into its fabric of gossip and intrigue, yet never truly bound to it. her laughter echoed like a quiet melody, a sound that drifted above the low hum of conversation and reverberated through the hall like the call of a siren.

at the sound of her name, she turned to see the lord of yronwood's dark gaze cast over her. with a quick, graceful movement, zahra drifted away from the small cluster of nobles she’d been chatting with, making her way toward him. There was no hurry in her step, only the quiet assurance of someone accustomed to the court’s rhythms.

she stopped before him, her smile a soft curve, her eyes glinting with the knowing gleam of someone who could see beneath the surface. “lord yronwood,” she greeted, her voice warm with the hint of amusement. “it seems the winds of sunspear have called you back, though I suspect it’s not the festivities that keep you here.” she knew the kind of man armaan yronwood was, a seeker of chaos, a harbinger of disruption, and she found herself intrigued by it, more than she would have cared to admit.

her lips curved into a slow, enigmatic smile as she placed her hand lightly over his, guiding him toward a quieter corner. she swept her flowing skirts aside as she settled into a low seat, her movements graceful, almost theatrical, before patting the space beside her. “if the stars have called to you, my lord, who am I to deny them?” she teased lightly.

gently taking his hand again, her thumb traced the lines of his palm, her touch deliberate, almost languid, as though she were drawing out the story etched there. her gaze flickered down, studying the patterns and folds as her brow furrowed slightly in thought. “your life is woven tightly, like threads pulled taut,” she murmured, her words measured, soft enough that only he could hear. “you carry the weight of others’ needs and ambitions, though it’s not burden alone that stirs you. no, there’s something more…”

she glanced up at him through her lashes, the corners of her lips curving into a knowing smile. “you’re a man who thrives on motion, yet here you are, standing still. why?” her head tilted slightly as she studied his face, the heat of her touch grounding the moment.

zahra let her fingers linger briefly before releasing his hand, folding her own neatly in front of her. “the stars do not dictate, my lord, but they do suggest,” she said lightly, though her gaze remained sharp. “and they suggest that perhaps the restlessness you feel is less about where you are and more about where you want to be.”

who: @dancingshores when and where: the grand throne room of sunspear, the bloodroyal of yronwood has made his way back to court in order to meet with the first minister and be present for at least a short period of time in the celebrations following their victory. context: he sees the court seer, zahra sand; who inspires him for some chaos. she inspires him to burn down tion peake's granaries - accidentially.

the throne room of sunspear glimmered in the late afternoon light, a mixture of gold and red hues spilling across polished sandstone. armaan yronwood leaned against a column, his eyes scanning the room with practiced ease, noting the sycophants, the revelers, and those with the sharp gleam of ambition in their gaze. it was a place of games and whispers, one he had long since learned to navigate. yet, amidst the courtly pomp, his attention snagged, unbidden, on her.

zahra sand.

she stood near a cluster of nobles, her laughter like a ripple of water breaking through the murmur of conversation. her flowing dark hair tumbled over her shoulders, glinting like polished obsidian under the torches. her eyes sparkled with mischief, a thousand secrets reflected in their depths, and her movements seemed almost otherworldly, a dance that carried an aura of purpose and enigma. but it was her figure—full hips swaying beneath her robes, the effortless confidence of her stance—that stirred something base and undeniable in armaan.

he clenched his jaw and pushed away from the column, making his way toward her with measured steps.

“zahra,” he greeted, the low timbre of his voice cutting through the noise. the corner of his mouth curled upward, though the smile held its usual edge of calculation. “your reputation precedes you. they say your insight shapes sunspear’s fate as much as the sword.” he acted as though she had not been in her chambers some months ago, sharing a smoking pipe and speaking of everything and nothing. he had not thought of that night until this moment, perhaps because she had the same look in her eye.

he let the words settle, watching as she turned to face him. her smile was a thing of subtlety, poised and knowing, and the way her robes clung to the curve of her hips sent a flicker of heat through him. he ignored it—or tried to. “you,” he continued, “are spoken of even in yronwood these days. they say the stars themselves bend to your will." he watched her closely as he spoke, searching her face for any crack in her composure. but zahra was a fortress, her expression offering nothing more than a faint amusement. it only made her all the more infuriatingly captivating.

he took a step closer, leaning slightly forward as he spoke, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. his fingers curled against the pillar, his grip tightening, but he didn’t let his thoughts stray too far. instead, he straightened from the pillar after clearly eyeing her up and down; and he extended the palm of his hand out for her. "do mine." he found himself lacking a sense of purpose in these days, on the great come down following the rush of war. there were nobody to kill, no reason to chase or to hunt; and he found himself growing increasingly bored.