TRUTH SERUM

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."

a humored smile crept on the lips of zahra sand, unable to maintain total composure with the lord who was so sincere she was unsure if she had ever actually seen him smile. though she never took much notice of baashier dayne until now, for they were in each other's company far more given the new position she had accepted. still, there was a slight feeling of discomfort in the pit of her stomach, a sense of nervousness that he had actually noticed something that would cause a great secret to be ripped from her before she was truly ready to speak it. though truthfully, zahra was unsure if she would ever be just that.

"yes, that she is." she replied, rolling her lips and then pressing them into a smile of sorts as she hoped to stray from the topic, soon. "sometimes we find coincidences that aren't there. i'm certain if she was stood next to me, you would not compare us at all." and zahra sand hoped that would be the end of that conversation, at least for now.

as he shifted to her roots, her feet shifted in her stance, never quite still with little movements here and there. "salt shore, yes." she responded. "no, my siblings take after their own mother. i'm told i take after my father some, but i suppose i'll never truly know." eyes flickered down to the booklet in hand, little drawings of the skies, maps in reality, though perhaps indiscernible to those who were not sure what they were looking at. "the end of the month is a better time for rest, than preparation. that is all i can see for the near future." she stated.

"would you like me here for their arrival, first minister? in case they are in need of my insight?" zahra was unsure if it was really necessary, but the stars might provide some semblance of peace and comfort. she did not desire to be glued to one place longer than necessary, but she felt obliged to offer.

Baashir looked at her, watching the way she spoke to him and he tried to pick up on anything that would give him peace and instead he decided everything about her was suspicious and he would have to work on something else. Though, he looked at the woman and decided they looked too much alike. There were differences but what was the same was enough to make him feel as though there was something he knew that he didn’t and he didn’t like that feeling. Though, he wished he didn’t say so much at once, probably pay his hand a bit better but he didn’t have anyway to take it back so it would just set the tone.

“Her grace is stunning and incomparable. Yet, you look like her and I find that distracting.” His voice stayed in that same even tone, the seriousness clear on his face. Bash furrowed his brow as he tried to think of something related to the dates around them so she could think of something else other than his questioning.

“Where do you come from? You’re a Gargalen Bastard, correct? No one else in your house looks like here.” The lord stopped himself and landed on an idea. “I want to know if there are any dates that arise to you in concern? We’ve many things to plan as we prepare for the princesses new roles and I’m sure for the other Martell siblings to arrive.” Bash sighed, and one or both of them would be headaches.

brows rose at the air of confidence that seemed to emit from his very being. zahra did not mind a partner who didn't know the specific steps, only that they had enough rhythm to follow the lead she eventually would take to, but this lord was different and that alone intrigued her. bangles upon her wrist rang softly as her hand gently gripped his own, allowing him to guide her to the dance floor.

"if you are as good a lead as i suspect, then i do believe my success will be owed to you." she replied, a smile finding itself upon her lips as the music began. while zahra felt somewhat out of place amongst the nobles on the dance floor, she also felt entirely in her element. even if those looked at her in curiosity, or perhaps some, in hatred, there was a strange feeling of yearning for eyes upon her, anyways. years of perfecting her craft had certainly created such a desire within her.

the music began and so did the steps, hers delayed by half a second at first as she observed those around her as well as the lord in front of her, before she fell in step with the rhythm. while they initially began across from each other, the dance soon brought them together again, a hand finding itself upon his shoulder, and the other clasped within his own. "i suspect you are a reachman. i hear you are most chivalrous." she also believed that he were not of the west as she did not believe a westerman would dance so publicly with her, those of the so called new valyria despised her, and the vale seemed far to prudish for his type. "though do correct me if i am wrong."

The lady stood out brightly amongst the sea of silken dresses, wearing an attire that clearly indicated her origin. He didn't think he'd intentionally singled her out in the crowd of dancers because she was Dornish, he'd only focused on her because of the vibrant energy she radiated, her graceful motions, and yes, because of how beautiful she looked. Perhaps something unconscious in his mind would remain inevitably drawn to what never was meant to intersect with him and his house.

Gael couldn't deny there was a certain allure to wearing masks, to the questions and the mysteries. And at least for now, the shedding of duty and concerns that existed for the unmasked version of him. He was no actor or performer, but as a playwright, he certainly understood the power of adopting a character. Tonight he was willing to play with those blurring lines and forget the wife who appeared to despise him so.

“I may not be as accomplished a dancer as you are, my lady,” the lord said, easily giving away that he had been observing her move before, “but I do know these dances very well”. It was part of court life in this region and the Reach, and for once, he was grateful he'd been pushed to learn the steps by the tutors employed by his mother and father. And so Gael Hightower held out his hand, a smile and a subtle tilt of his head inviting her to take it. “Worry not, you will outshine us all,” he murmured as she held his hand, and the Master of the Arts led the Dornish beauty to the dancefloor.

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.

the wings of zahra sand had long spread as the dancer flew her way around dorne perfecting and teaching her craft. since the woman left the tor, it wasn't long she stayed in one particular place. even her house of birth, salt shore, did not see her for periods longer than she could help it. the stars and scenery was everchanging around her, and she felt happier for it, for the most part. feet found it's next stop within the halls of godsgrace, a place that subtly connected her to someone she was far more intertwined with than anyone knew, but she had found her own relationships within those that lived in these halls, particularly the other children of house allyrion.

dastan had become a familiar face she enjoyed seeing during her time in the keep, and mayya was a young woman's who's talent grew everytime zahra returned to these walls. the dancer had attended his wedding, of course, and unfortunately admist the turmoil and subsequent trip to volantis with his new bride, it seemed long that she had last seen him. once she set eyes upon her old friend, she could sense the happiness that emitted from him, and it was met with her own bright smile.

"dastan!" she exclaimed, embracing the lord before her, before releasing and looking to the lady at his side. she was a pretty woman, and zahra offered a nod and smile to her. "it is good to see you again, my lady." she stated. "how was volantis?" zahra asked the pair now. "my father has spoken so much of it, i should hope one day i get to witness it's beauty myself."

Closed starter for @dancingshores Setting: 140 AC. Dastan Allyrion and his wife, Sofina Merryweather, return to Godsgrace after a few months spent in his mother's homeland of Volantis following their wedding.

Tensions had been running high after the union of his house to the House Merryweather of the Reach. It had been a measure of safety to remain abroad for a time, to let the fire that had been lit on the day of his wedding celebration be put out. Constant letters to his lord father kept the Lord of Godsgrace informed on how matters developed, and plans were outlined to invest not only in repairs for areas that were damaged by the rioters but to improve upon what had been there before. Those letters tethered him home in the distance, yet his heart missed it. Volantis wasn't foreign to him, not with the travels he'd done since his youth to know that part of his mother's family. They were most welcoming, and in them, Dastan saw so much of his mother's controlled fire, her spirit, and determined nature.

It was a blessing to be home, one he felt deeply in his chest when the carriage crossed the gates into the fortified castle of Godsgrace. Dastan was quick to go hand in hand with his wife to his mother and father, to see his sisters, upon their return. Blessed be the gods that guarded them as they sailed back, and allowed him to embrace his family once more. It was a pleasant surprise to find an old family friend in their midst. With how much his mother revered Zahra's skill and Mayya's continuous learning of the artistry the dancer could teach, it wasn't rare to find the desert dancer as a guest of House Allyrion.

“Zahra, mera dost,” My friend, the lord greeted her with a smile as he went over to hug her. Dastan, who was so often invaded by the sorrow in his blood, had found in recent months that smiling came easier to him, not a pretense to be amenable and polite, but a true drive that bloomed from the heart. The gods had blessed him. They truly had set him on a path he didn't believe he deserved, yet one that continued to fill him with unexpected happiness.

The lord had been teaching his wife a few words from the Dornish tongue, as she'd asked him so much about his family and seemed eager to learn anything Dastan was willing to share. Yet, out of respect for Sofina, he went on in the common tongue so she would understand everything being said. “Do you remember Zahra, my love? I introduced you to so many people at our wedding, but she's the one who's taught my sister everything she knows,” he said, in reference to Mayya's talent as a dancer. “She's Dorne's most revered dancer”. Anyone who stated otherwise was in denial of a simple truth.

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

Aditi Rao Hydari in Heeramandi (Netflix, 2024)

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.

Cheppake Cheppake

  Mahasamudram (2021)