As The Dance Concluded Zahra Flashed A Grin To The Young Lord Who Had Accompanied Her, Though She Had

zahra’s gaze lingered on myriam as she spoke, her voice raw, her vulnerability laid bare in the flickering firelight. the weight of her words hung in the room like a heavy curtain, but zahra let the silence settle before speaking. she leaned forward slightly, her hands clasped loosely in her lap, the calm she projected at odds with the churn of emotions beneath the surface.

“you’ve been through more than anyone should, myri,” she said softly, her voice as gentle as a lullaby. “you’ve carried so much on your shoulders, and you’re still standing. that alone is a testament to your strength.” she reached out, her fingers brushing against myriam’s arm in a gesture that was steadying but unobtrusive. “but you don’t have to do it alone. no one expects you to have all the answers, not even the stars are always clear.”

her eyes shifted to the baby nestled in myriam’s arms. “inaaya is proof of something bigger than court politics or strategies. she and leila are reminders of why we endure all this—the alliances, the games, the endless calculations. it’s for the world we want them to live in. and you are shaping that world, even if it feels like chaos now.”

zahra paused, her gaze returning to myriam’s face. “as for the volantene woman,” she said, her tone measured, “she’s a risk, yes, but sometimes risks are necessary. you’re right—she could be a thread that leads to something greater. and if you want, i’ll help you untangle her. i’ll speak with her, test her motives, and see what she might offer. together, we can make sure she doesn’t become a threat.” her heart pattered rapidly in her chest, but she would place herself in such a position for myriam's sake.

the fire crackled softly behind them, its warmth filling the space between zahra’s words. “but for now, myri,” Zahra continued, her voice dropping to a near whisper, “take a moment. just breathe. the weight will still be here tomorrow, but tonight, inaaya needs her mother to hold her, and you need to let yourself rest. let me carry some of this with you. you don’t have to trust everyone—but you can trust me.”

her smile was small, but it held a quiet determination.

❂

myriam tightened her hold on inaaya, her fingers brushing over the baby’s soft hair as zahra’s words sank in. the fire crackled in the hearth, casting wavering shadows over the room, and for a moment, myriam let herself get lost in their dance. she didn’t respond immediately, her thoughts pulling her in a dozen different directions. "of my making," she echoed finally, her voice quiet, almost brittle. “i’ve heard those words before. from baashir, from courtiers, even from myself when i’ve tried to convince myself i belong here.” she shook her head, a bitter laugh slipping out.

“but what kind of world am i shaping when i don’t even know where my fucking footing is?”

her gaze dropped to inaaya, the baby’s soft breathing a steady rhythm in her arms. “i sit in that hall, i listen to them speak of dorne like i understand every nuance, every geographic position, all talk defence, every alliance that spans back generations. but i don’t. and they know it.” her thoughts churned, dragging her back to the endless days spent listening to debates that seemed both urgent and incomprehensible. and how she tried to keep up, but she simply could not.

“i rely too much on others—on baashir, on the courtiers, even on you. it is shameful, for a leader. we spoke of mors being weak, and now what?" she rested her hand upon her forehead, momentarily resting upon it; but in reality she briefly leaned her head downward to avoid continued eye contact with zahra, knowing it would somehow bring her to floods of tears. the exhaustion, the bleeding from between her thighs, and the sense of feeling utterly alone. "i'd give it all to ravi, if that was enough...but i trust none with my daughter. i trust none." she repeated, her voice becoming all but strained as she shifted in her bed.

all because she had a single conversation with the dragon king, that ended in madness. it were all but spit in her face. the firelight caught the edge of a tear as it welled in her eye, but she blinked it away, forcing herself to steady. “i don’t know how to be what they expect of me."

she looked up at zahra, her expression raw and unguarded in a way she rarely let herself show. there was not a single crumb of confidence or sultriness, but rather for a split moment, it appeared as though a girl freshly turned eight and ten held a baby to her chest. “and now there’s this volantene woman. dangerous, you said. poison wrapped in silk. it sounds like the kind of game i should be able to play, doesn’t it?” she let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. “i've got a feeling about her. i don't know what, but....i think she's a start. even if that start goes no place, i'll obtain connections and names from her. doran uller can do it.” her mind began to move quickly.

Aditi Rao Hydari for Anita Dongre’s Love Notes Collection 2016

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

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

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

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

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

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

who: @dancingshores​ where: one of the gardens allocated to the dornish quarters within highgarden, in the final few days of the dornish court’s stay within highgarden. there is privacy within the gardens, and martell guards stationed where entrances are located between the bushes. why? because the heir of dorne was in the middle of something incredibly precarious and important. presenting her mother and zahra sand with her kathak skills, an intricate dance skill.

there came the sounds of leila’s ankles with each move she perfected, with a sense sharp of perfection; her movements were sharp, concise, and clear. and yet it were her expressions that caused the sun to beam across the face of myriam allyrion, to watch the girl channel the theatrics that truly made dornish dance different to other forms of dance: each move was almost a piece of theatre. she had never heard of the name zahra sand before, and yet, it seemed as though leila had heard of the woman amongst her own circle of young dornish girls, with the world at their feet and on their shoulders. 

and it were like a wonder had played out before her very eyes; for as much as the princess of dorne would clap and encourage the girl who knew herself to be the ruler of dorne, kathak had never been her strength. if anything, she had been some of the weakest amongst her group of friends all her same age; children, unaware of the realities of the world. and here she was now, with a sense of concise movement that myriam had been unable to install within her old child, regardless of how many demonstrations she had showed. 

regardless of the times the two had grown irritable with one another, they always ended up trying and trying and trying again. 

zahra sand had been working with her daughter for some weeks, and this was the first time she watched it. she heard the woman was very gentle in the way she interacted with children, and ensured to thoroughly run through the woman’s background before granting her access to the very future of dorne. she had found nothing to be worried of, only that the woman engaged in travels with her lord father years ago, as so many of them had. dorne was the only place to go, and thus, so many truly travelled it length and breadth. there was clapping as the girl finished, her face clearly excited; and in one go, she had flurried off to the other girls who watched. 

they spoke excitedly with one another, and myriam watched with a sense of joy, of happiness, and of bittersweetness. there was a time where her daughter would come to her instantly. she truly was growing up. 

turning toward the lady in question, myriam rose from the ornate chair she had placed herself upon, approaching the woman. her face was bright, brighter than it had been in some days; though her altercation with her brother remained hanging heavy in the hair, she was able to find joy in the reality of her life. how she wished for another, and whilst she was not entirely sure, here they were. “what need i say to you?” she asked, the sounds of anklets jingling as she crossed the grass. she was barefoot upon it, feeling the warmth of the sun beneath her soles. “what magic do you use, zahra?” 

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."

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 melodic sound of anklets jingling echoed quietly within the great halls of sunspear, a place that she had found herself wandering in and out of in more recent months as she had become a teacher to the very heir of dorne herself, an achievement she would've only imagined acquiring years ago. while the dancer of salt shore had many privileges in her life, for a bastard, zahra had worked tirelessly to secure her own name and her own way in this life. it was, perhaps, the most important thing to her, was her fierce sense of independence and self-reliance.

her mind wandered now, knowing that, while her perseverance had been crucial, it had been her time spent in the tor that had seen her greatest period of growth in her skill - not in just dancing. she found herself now quietly humming the tune that had played during practice, her feet practically floating upon the very floor itself as a hand moved to the beat of the music that played only in her own head. she had a way of immersing herself so much in the dance and music, that the world around her seemed to fade away. though singing and acting had consumed much of her time as well while she was in the tor, it was always dancing that had held her greatest interest.

as dark hues looked at the pattern the suns rays made upon the floor now as it illuminated through the many grand windows that were lined together, she felt a sense of bittersweetness come over her. how that time in her life probably halted her wandering feet for the longest she had stayed in one place in quite a while, and perhaps it only pushed her to further fly away before she ever settled anywhere. there was no anger, but peace as her mind settled back down on the thoughts of her time there. her time with him.

her thoughts seemed to will the image of rashid jordayne to appear now, and though she thought she imagined him entirely, he was there, just some paces away from her. she hadn't even noticed him at first, or perhaps she did and didn't realize it until now. the ever-expressive face of zahra sand did not hide what lurked within her mind, and right now it was surprise. surprise that he was there, despite the fact he had ever reason to be. her feet paused now. paused. in times past they would fly towards the man before her, but now they halted all together.

the shock wore off after a few beats of silence and her features stilled entirely, he had clearly noticed her, too. what was one to say to fill the years lost between two souls? there was no animosity between them, only a connection lost after they parted ways. certainly there were times where they were in the same vicinity, but yet worlds away.

a warm smile naturally crept on her lips now, for zahra was never one to sit in silence for very long. "rashid." she said, for she could not think of any other greeting that would suit the situation as of now. she wanted to ask him many questions, but she wouldn't. she didn't need to. she opened her mouth again to speak, but the words did not come as quickly as she expected, leaving a woman who was always found loudly conversing or laughing within a group, unusually silent.

a few more beats passed before she finally thought of one thing to say. "i....heard of your marriage to the princess loreza, congratulations." there was a genuine tone in her words, for zahra knew what rashid had yearned for, or one of the many things, and certainly the princess would make a fine ruling lady of the tor.

who: @dancingshores when and where: following zahra sand's audience with the princess myriam of house allyrion, rashid jordayne comes across a memory in the hallways of sunspear.

it was not often rashid qamar of house jordayne thought of midnight: it was not often the man was even awake to see midnight, if not attending formal events within the great domed mirrored halls of sunspear's fortress, and it was not often the man thought of the moon he had been named after. there was once a time in his life where he and midnight were old friends, companions even; as though the middle of the night was the middle of the day, for that was when the sun seemed the most like she shined. it was not often rashid qamar of house jordayne thought of rain; those ancient ancestors before them learning to survive with what little of it there was, and that still meant he was unable to deny the beauty of the first rain of the harvest.

rare as it was, and yet, most things that truly mattered in life were incredibly rare, were they not?

the transition into lordship was one he had undertaken some years ago, following the slow and painful death of a father that deserved so much better than the end that was given to him. visiting him day after day to see his immobile condition only worsen was enough to stir and swirl what peace the man seemed to hold within his own chest, locked up under secret lock and key; his transition to lordship came with carrying the heavy burden of grief, as the transition does to all who take the mantle. it had taken him time to understand how to grieve for someone who continued to live. and live, and live, and live, as she had always done; swirling skirts and the sounds of laughter ringing from atop a stage, or the time her ankle twisted and he found himself needing to carry her on his own back.

it made him realise there was no grieving for what could have been; only acceptance. for the what if remained very much alive.

it was that same acceptance he knew all too well as he walked the halls of sunspear following a conversation with the soon to be future ruling prince, if rumours were correct, considering the movements he would make as a lord. he thought of how he wanted to be remembered, knowing the genuine weight of his actions: he was not a man who spoke for the sake of speaking. he was not a man who did not consider all options deeply, before settling. but he was a man who followed through on his word: it could bloom, or it could rip away what there could never be. that same feeling of acceptance seemed to slowly wash over him as he looked up within bustling halls, filled with such a stark variety of colours: and yet still, his eyes immediately fell to her.

her face remained the same. her walk remained the same. there was a time where it was he that was too much the same, and now he felt as though he were changing; only to look upon her and see she truly was just the same. as though she remained entirely where they had left one another, a part of him almost went to look at her ankle to wonder whether she were able to walk on it properly now. there were no words that came out of his mouth, though he felt a slight exhale come out of him; so subtle it was hard to notice. once he held his breath when he saw her, and felt a thudding deep within his heart - and now? now he exhaled.

it was relief he felt in her presence. what words were there that could even be echoed within such a time, when it had been years and somehow felt like it had not all at the very same time?

he said nothing. he didn't need to.

armaan (for zahra)

I like you // I love you // You’re one of my best friends // You’re like family // You are family // I dislike you // I hate you // I’d kill you if I got the chance // I want you to like me // I’m scared of you // I would adopt you // I’d date you // I’d sleep with you // I’d marry you // I’m worried about you // You confuse me // You’re annoying // I pity you // I respect you // I trust you // I feel protective of you // I’d invite you with me to parties // I’d lend you my money // I’d borrow your money // You’re good-looking // I’m suspicious of you // I’m hiding something from you // You’re fun // You’re boring // I’m upset with you // You’re nice // You’re mean // I’m envious of you // You’re smart // You’re stupid // I look up to you // I think you’re a better person than me // I think I’m a better person than you // I want to apologize to you // I wish I’d never met you // I never want to forget you // I want to get to know you better

@armaans

the tone in the voice of the woman beside her sent a wave of comfort over the dancer - a thought that hadn’t even crossed her mind at the fact that the gods had blessed her with closure she didn’t realize she so craved after so many years. while her mind would yet be filled with why’s and what if’s she could feel the relief begin to slowly wash over her, as if she were taking a dip in cool water on a warm day. with the shawl grasped gently in her hands, almost instinctively taking to the others offers of comfort, a thing she never really knew much of, a faint smile crossed her lips.

"i needed to hear that." she admitted, with a sniffle as she used the back of her hand to rub at her nose. zahra was suddenly all too aware of the mess she presented herself in front of the princess regent. despite the closeness that seemed to bond them as of late, she felt the slightest sensation of bashfulness.

and she nodded at the mention of the sword of the morning, though she did not know the lord of starfall well, she knew of his closeness with rashid, and it seemed, myriam as well. a conversation she would not question now, though curiosity picked at the back of her mind. "i know he must be heartbroken, too." she stated with a shaky resolve, before giving a soft clear of her throat. "he made the most of anything, he was..." good. he was purely good. of course, no man could be the subject of godliness, but she thought rashid jordayne's demeanor certainly came close. she would miss the simple conversations they would have, the smell of incense swirling about them in a dimly lit room. even if such moments were not recent, it was comforting to simply know this world had someone like him.

"and i needed to hear that, too." zahra answered with a gentle laugh, a small lift of her spirits as it seemed the woman before her, who held so much weight upon her own shoulders, whilst comforting the dancer of salt shore, read her own very mind in all of this. "i've never grieved in such a way, before." she admitted. the favorite daughter of her father's, a motherless child save for the woman his father took as his wife, who never dealt with very many hardships, despite the lack of status she held, she held something that many would yearn for, many died for - freedom. "it almost seems like there is a wrong way to do it, but you are right." she inhaled. "perhaps if i share my grief with the jordayne's, we can all bear the weight of it, together."

she looked at the shawl in her hands now, wrinkled and damp, a felt a small flush come to her tear-stained cheeks. zahra gently lifted it. "i must wash this before i return it to you, or perhaps i owe you a new one." she insisted, a hint of jest, even in mournful spirits. "thank you, myri. i am grateful for your words and your company, eternally."

❂

there was the slow dawning realisation within the mind of myriam allyrion, the idea that what she was seeing sat before her was what the court would have expected to see from her upon the murder of her own husband: and yet, myriam's own tears had come from a place of shock and empathy for her daughter, rather than about the actual loss.

a feeling of detachment had come over as she stood within the room surrounded by her martell family, the diligent daugher in law that had completed her duty; and would now remain part of the royal family as was expected for royal widows. "you did?" there was audible relief within myriam's words; she was glad zahra had the chance to speak to rashid, and put aside whatever pain had occurred between them years ago. "thank the gods; and you were meant to see him. whatever was said was a gift; your last conversation was not one filled with pain, or hurt. it was years later, in sunspear's hallway. everything seemed okay, didn't it?"

and yet still, the feeling of dread continued to come over her at the prospect of knowing the bridal bangles she adorned at seventeen had become shackles; her mangalsutra weighed upon her, now more than ever before. this was what grief looked like, this was how a woman that loved a man grieved. all myriam grieved for was her daughter's innocence, a childhood she would try to stitch together but she knew it would never be the same.

"i didn't know him well." myriam spoke, her hand resting upon zahra's back, rubbing it up and down as the woman allowed herself to cry on the steps of sunspear's throne. how it felt as though sunspear's throne was built on the tears and sacrifices of women. "but baashir did…he was basically his brother, so." and those words were a quiet admission of what many thought, but did not speak of. that there was something between the princess regent and the first minister of dorne: that there always had been. "you're not the only one wishing for more time."

zahra sand was just a woman who brought joy to leila's face, allowing girlish giggles to fill the courtyard over the sound of the fountains - she did not know when she had found herself latching onto her in such a way, but here she was. there was something utterly maternal about the way she wound her shawl from her own body, moving aside strands of thick chesnut hair and allowing zahra to wipe her tears with it; almost insisting she do so. the same way zahra was basically on her shoulder, with how close they sat beside one another.

and now, she grieved for the concept of goodness: whilst she never felt as though she could be, or would be, good, she had always found herself quiet in awe and in comfort in the space of rashid jordayne. now he too was gone, and she found herself wondering what plans the gods had. "you're not wrong for grieving, zahra. okay? even if you've taken different paths and found different people. you are not stepping on or undermining the grief of the jordaynes with your own." and how she knew the jordaynes would be grieving; safeerah especially, considering how close she was to her brother.

"speaking to them may help you feel some sense of peace. be with the people that have so many memories of him - it'll prepare you for the funeral."

@xialigreenleaf

Their friendship was as intense as it was sudden. They found relief in each other’s personality.

Toni Morrison, from ‘Sula’

the fire crackled softly, its glow mingling with the cold light spilling through the window. zahra stood by the glass, her silhouette framed against the night sky. her eyes were fixed on the comet, its long, pale tail cutting through the darkness like a wound in the heavens. it should have been a sign of hope, a beacon. but to zahra, as much as she resisted the thought for one that was a good omen, it also felt like a warning, its silent passage stirring unease in her chest. it made her wonder is signs like these brought upon different answers: for myriam she prayed it was a sign of the change she desired to create, but for zahra, she wondered if it was a sign of change that she feared from a secret yet unknown.

“volantis is complicated,” zahra began, her voice steady but measured. she unfolded her arms and stepped closer, her movements deliberate. “you’re right to be cautious. the last thing we want is to sow chaos where we mean to bring change.” she knelt by myriam’s side, her eyes finally meeting her friend’s. “but speaking to the right people could guide us. carefully. thoughtfully.”

when Myriam mentioned the volantese woman, zahra’s pulse quickened. our mother. the words echoed in her mind, heavy and intrusive. she tried not to think of that meeting, had pushed it down where secrets could breathe but not speak. her mother’s face flashed in her memory—sharp, calculating, but with a tenderness that lingered in her smile. zahra masked her hesitation with a slow, thoughtful nod. “that woman…” she began, her voice even but her thoughts racing.

zahra shifted, buying herself a moment. “yes, i remember her too. she seemed… well-connected. maybe she could help.” The words felt like stepping onto thin ice. “but we’d have to tread carefully. people in her position often have their own agendas.” and hers? even I’m not sure.

she placed a hand on myriam’s arm, grounding herself in the present. “i can try to reach out, see if she’s willing to meet. but…” zahra’s gaze flickered toward the fire, the weight of unspoken truths pressing against her ribs. “we need to be ready for whatever her intentions might be. allies can come from the unlikeliest places, but trust…” her voice softened, almost breaking. “that’s harder to earn.”

❂

myriam listened to zahra, her friend's words cutting through the haze of her doubts. the shadows of the room seemed to deepen, creating an intimate cocoon around them. she gazed down at inaaya, the baby’s tiny fingers still curled around her own. a small sigh escaped her lips. “speaking to the merchants sounds like a smart move,” she began, her voice tired but thoughtful. “but what if by doing that, i’m stirring up internal issue in volantis? it’s not even our realm. i don’t want to ignite more conflict or cause harm in a place we don’t control."

she gently rocked inaaya, the baby’s warmth providing a small measure of comfort. “it’s just... i want to believe there’s a way to make a difference without compromising who we are. it’s hard to see how when everything is so tangled.” her eyes met zahra’s, searching for reassurance. “the comet... i want to trust it means something good, but it feels like just another issue, zahra.”

drawing a deep breath, myriam tried to push away the lingering doubts. “do you have any connections in volantis?” she asked, her tone suddenly curious. “i remember seeing you speak to that lady once. can we start there? maybe she can point us toward the right people.” the thought of reaching out to someone specific gave her a sliver of hope, even if it was a tentative one.

the flickering firelight danced across the room, casting fleeting shadows on the walls. myriam held her baby close, drawing strength from the tiny life in her arms. “i don’t want to betray our legacy or our values. but we need to find allies who believe as we do, who see slavery for what it is.” she paused, feeling the weight of her words. she looked at zahra, gratitude and determination mingling in her gaze. “thank you for being here, for helping me see things a bit clearer. even if the path isn’t obvious yet.” the room’s quiet settled around them, the bond between friends a small but steady beacon in the uncertain night.