The Eyes Of Zahra Sand Remained Entirely Fixated On The Marbled Floors Beneath Her Feet, Glistens Of

setting : the coronation events of jaehaerys ii, a pair of lords and unlikely third party play a game of cards together ; @nicholaslannisters @percival-templeton

the coronation events of the new valyrian king had been intriguing, to say the least, for the dancer of salt shore did not often find herself beyond the borders of dorne, unless she needed to be. though she was not necessarily needed here, she enjoyed the opportunity to see places outside of her own homeland - a kite drifting wherever the wind should take her. curious, hazel hues scanned the great room before her within the red keep, it was not quite obvious in the open, but not hidden away, either. tables were set up, with nobles sat around them playing various games.

zahra hadn't a clue what the rules of any of these games were, she saw dice thrown, cheers and jeers, laughter as wine seemed to flow through all of their veins. she tended to indulge in her curisosity, especially in such a, what seemed to be, relaxed environment. bangles rang as if they were signaling her approach as she stood near the table where only two lords sat with cards in hand, perhaps preferring the more intimate game, though she would inquire anyways. "is there room for another at this table, my lords?" lips pulled upwards into a friendly grin as she looked between the two, awaiting their response only a brief moment before taking the empty chair, anyways.

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.”

What are you still hoping to accomplish?

"oh, but there's still so much out there, isn't there?" zahra asked in return with a coy smile. "i'd like to be known everywhere, not just dorne. perhaps instruct those in the east, learn more. but i do love home, very much. i don't think my heart could handle being away from sunspear for long."

ADITI RAO HYDARI in Sufiyum Sujatayum (2020) dir. Shanavas Naranipuzha

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?”

setting: at the verdant concord, a hidden courtyard with a reflective pool said to grant “clarity of thought” to those who sit beside it at sunset ; @myriamas

the courtyard held its breath, the light fading into a soft, silvered hush. zahra moved at myriam’s side, her steps easy but slower than usual, her usual brightness dimmed into something quieter, more inward. her bangles shifted with her movements, the faint music of them delicate in the still air.

the memory pool stretched before them, darkening as the sky deepened above. zahra stood at its edge, gazing down without quite looking at her own reflection.

for a long moment, she said nothing, a silence that myriam would surely notice. she folded herself gracefully to sit by the water, resting her arms loosely over her knees, her fingers drawing idle patterns on the stone.

“they say it shows you clarity,” zahra said at last, her voice softer than usual, thoughtful rather than teasing. “not in the stars, not in signs… but here. close enough to touch.”

she let her words trail off, eyes fixed on the ripples where a falling leaf had touched the surface, her hand poking the surface softly in answer. zahra stilled her hand, watching the pool return to its perfect calm, as if it, too, was waiting for something. she felt the familiar tug of curiosity, the same pull that had guided her steps across a thousand desert nights, chasing stars and stories.

but this was different. this was not a distant constellation, not a path marked in the heavens. this was close. immediate. and maybe harder to run from.

“i’ve always read the skies for others,” she added after a beat, glancing at myriam with a small, almost self-mocking smile. “but maybe the water knows something about me that the stars won’t say.”

zahra didn’t sound afraid, only contemplative, as if weighing a question without rushing to answer it. she leaned forward slightly, her reflection meeting hers at last, blurred by the soft stirring of the water.

quiet settled again between them, a comfortable thing, as zahra stayed there by the pool, not turning away. just… waiting. wondering.

Aditi Rao Hydari in Heeramandi (Netflix, 2024)

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.”

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 very air about this place was shocking to zahra. everyone seemed to be moving so quick it made her head spin, always somewhere to be, always somewhere to go, always somewhere to see. she thought living that way must be exhausting, perhaps she was lucky in her ability to pave her own way, at her own pace. still, it was interesting to bear witness to. when the opportunity came to experience the reach, zahra hoped her father would agree she could travel with his household. she was not beholden to him as she once was, but they managed to still have a relatively good relationship, so she thought.

the raven-haired woman wondered about the gardens now, footsteps as if to the beat of music that played only in her mind - one, two, three, repeat. she seemed to glide, almost, as she simply took in her own existence between the shrubbery, closing her eyes and inhaling the sweet scent of flowers, far too much for her senses, but pretty nonetheless. eyes opened when her ears filled with the sound of a woman's voice, harsh and firm. zahra did not make her presence obvious, but she kept close enough to, well, there wasn't much she could do, but she wondered if she could help if necessary. witnessing more of the interaction, however, a brow rose. it seemed the man was simply trying to....speak to her? offer to accompany her? she was not all too familiar with other customs, but the language of wooing another was universal, she thought. all too soon, she acted as if she had just walked in their direction as the man brushed past her.

"are these your sons?" she questioned, keeping a distance enough to not ire the woman, as she had just witnessed, but curiosity getting the better of her to not speak up. "they're quite lucky to have a strong mother, so i overheard. was that man offending you?"

open starter / gardens at highgarden

since arriving at highgarden, willow had taken to wandering around the gardens. she never ventured too far into them but she liked following the cobbled paths close to the keep. hugo and sam were outside as well, sitting under a tree while reading their books, and she was keeping an eye on them. she preferred to know where her sons were at all times. it was control fuelled by a deep fear of losing them. in some strange way, willow believed if she knew where they were or had eyes on them, nothing terrible could happen to them. no one could hurt them. not without being assaulted by a maddened mother at least. suddenly her line of sight was blocked by a dark-haired man coming up to greet her. a knight. willow was pleasant enough in her greeting, she sent him a tight-lipped smile and made a remark about the weather, fully expecting he would move on. but then he offered her his arm to walk with her around the garden and suddenly every second he spent in her presence annoyed her.

willow blackwood was many things ― but patient was not one of them. the knight, whose name she had not bothered to ask because she did not care, was blocking her path and her way to her sons. she had lived the last thirteen years in mourning, she rarely wore anything but black, all for the purpose of avoiding situations like this. she wanted the world to see a heartbroken widow, a woman still living in the past and refusing to move on. she had strived to get rid of any suitor that had presented himself throughout the years. and in all those years willow had learned an important lesson. the faster you got rid of them, the less likely they were to stick around like bothersome flies on a warm summer day. "i am quite capable of walking on my own, ser, as you can see i have two perfectly good legs." her tone was as icy as the look on her face. "might i suggest you offer to parade another around the garden instead? ser garland perhaps?" he reacted with indignation, as they always did, and then they waited around to see shame in her eyes, but they were always left disappointed as willow simply stared them down. she felt no shame, no regret, she felt nothing but anger at him getting in her way. her anger was easy to provoke, it was always there bubbling away in her chest, eager to be unleashed. the knight left with a huff while muttering about rude ladies. she ignored him and instead her eyes immediately went to the tree her sons sat under. they were still sitting in the shade reading their books and she let out a sigh of relief.