The Dance Swirled Around Them, The Music Wrapping Around Their Bodies Like An Old, Familiar Friend. Zahra’s

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 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?”

caramel colored hues brightened at the grin upon xia-li's face, no doubt glad to see an old friend again, but also glad to be more welcome company to the lady of the north. zahra's relaxed disposition seemed to fit perfectly with the free spirit that was the lady of fir hold. she did not know much of life in the north, other than simply visiting did not sound enticing in the least. the cold climate did not seem to suit the woman before her, who, in contrast, was warm as the dornish sun. "a wet sheep." she repeated, a laugh escaping her now. "well, something about mother's know best, but i might respectfully disagree."

hand took the others, no doubt a look of friendship to anyone who might gaze upon the two, and truly that is what their relationship was to it's core - kindred spirits who ebbed and flowed into one another's lives like the tide meets and recedes from the shore. "well, the people here are quite easily entertained if enough of the reach's finest red fills their belly's, i can say." zahra's experienced was not much more thrilling than the woman's before her, other than an evening spent dancing before some lord's and lady's, those who no doubt did not respect her craft as much as they did in dorne, but she danced nonetheless, because she enjoyed it.

"gods, i was going to say the same of you." zahra quipped. "home is the same, really." the dancer, however, did not pay much attention to political matters, or rather, she did not care to discuss them much. "and up north? i hope things are much better, now."

cavalier and cool demeanor is quick to melt around the dornish woman, lips quirking upward at the playful response shes given. there's little need for such an attitude when zahras in her presence, not when they've known each other in such ways that facades are impossible to keep up. "no need for flattery, qīń ài de. i believe it was my mother who told me i move with all the grace of a wet sheep and im inclined to believe her." chuckle laces through a humored admission. its true, she lacks the poise that her sisters possess and had she given as much of a care towards her status as she did conversing with the woman she lingers an acceptable distance from, it might have struck a nerve enough for change.

"the wine and the views are divine, i must admit. the people however," tongue clicks against the roof of her mouth, a signifier of her distaste for the forced company. chance to lounge in temperate weather was truly the only factor in her decision to willingly join her family in the reach. that, and the chance to cross paths with zahra once more. "let us say that your presence is a beacon of light in my dim experience. i have the gods to thank for the journey that brought you here. i've been feeling a bit deprived of dorne and all its delights." offers a hand that passerby might construe as friendly towards her. "walk with me, tell me all i've missed."

Aditi Rao Hydari in Heeramandi (Netflix, 2024)

@xialigreenleaf

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

Toni Morrison, from ‘Sula’

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

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

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

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

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

꙰

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

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

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

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

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

ADITI RAO HYDARI in Hey Sinamika (2022)

zahra didn’t flinch at the word bastard. if anything, her fingers stilled on the stone. not in shame, she’d never quite felt that, not for a long time when she realized there were some who did not see it so kindly, but in calculation. not many said it aloud with that kind of ease. the sound of it felt less like insult and more like a knife laid flat on the table. not yet turned. not yet bloody.

“people call me zahra,” she said easily, her fingers resuming their idle trace along the stone. “some call me lady, if they’re guessing. or trying to be polite.” her eyes flicked back to him, unreadable. “i don’t always bother to correct them.” a small shrug. not defensive, just honest. that was the thing about dorne. names meant something, but not everything. blood mattered less than what you did with it.

she followed his glance toward the laughing knight, watched the awkward tilt of shoulders, the way the florent girl’s smile was all performance. zahra had danced for crowds like that. crowds that wanted to be delighted, not seen. she turned her gaze back to jalabhar, catching the echo of the smirk that wasn’t quite charm.

“you don’t seem like the sort to mistake laughter for peace,” she said quietly. “or silk for safety.”

his words stuck with her, peace not found in flowered halls. she wondered, not for the first time, what he was doing here. what kind of game he played, and why it led him to know more than he should. myriam’s name. not the one used in introductions or behind fans. the old one. the one zahra had only discovered when told from myriam's own lips.

she didn’t ask. not yet. instead, she tilted her head and asked something else.

“and what of dorne, lord mooton?” she asked, using his name in return, for he clearly knew who she was already in some form. “you speak of peace like you’ve known the price of it. do you think we’ve paid enough?” she said we without thinking, but it wasn’t an accident. she may not be a dornish woman with a true name, perhaps, but the sun, the heat, the land, it was all there, in her. the pride, the defiance. she claimed it as her own, whether or not the world understood.

“or do you think we’re still playing?”

Jalabhar turned toward the sound of her voice, slow and measured, the way one turned to greet a familiar current—expected, but still needing to be felt. He didn’t answer at first, letting Zahra settle herself nearby. His eyes followed the motion of her hand along the carved edge of the stone bench, the way her bangles caught the light, the silk of her skirts pooling like quiet water. She was poised, yes, but no less deliberate than any man here wearing brocade and ambition.

“I wonder,” he said after a beat, his voice low, the cadence of the Maiden’s Tongue slipping through—each word rolling and clipped, like salt-worn driftwood smooth from travel, “if in Dorne, they call bastards lady out of courtesy… or title? Or do you go by Zahra?” He didn’t speak in riddles, not yet. That was a game for lords with something to prove. His questions were always sharper when they were plain.

The faintest tug of a smirk played at the corner of his mouth as he looked back toward the garden path, watching a knight in Reach green try too hard to laugh with a Florent cousin. Then his gaze returned to her.

“Peace be its own game,” he said, echoing her words with the same dry rhythm he used when speaking to fishmongers and ferrymen. “That’s what they say, anyway. I think peace’s not found in debates in flowered halls."

He studied her openly now. Searched for a weakness before deciding the weakness was in her riddles.

“Eyes are for seein’,” he said with a shrug, glancing lazily toward the courtyard before turning back. “Never heard of a man who didn’t look to see.” And there it was—the smile. Not flirtatious. Just part of the package. A little charm, just enough to grease the gears. This wasn’t pleasure. This was work.

zahra paused mid-step as ser percival templeton appeared before her, his voice cutting through the warm, wine-sweet air of the great tent. the evening hummed around them, thick with the smell of roasting meats and the sharp tang of woodsmoke curling from the braziers. laughter pealed off in one corner where knights jostled shoulders, but here, the space between them felt quieter. thinner.

she turned toward him with a slow, easy smile, the kind meant to disarm rather than challenge. “a surprise?” she echoed lightly, the corners of her mouth tugging higher. “then i must be doing something right.”

her silks shifted as she moved, colors catching the firelight like the inside of a jewel box. she let him look, not flaunting, just unbothered, before her gaze flicked back to his with a spark of quiet humor.

“we hunt in dorne,” she said, tilting her head as if pondering. “but the beasts we chase tend to have sharper tongues than teeth.” her bracelets slid down her wrist with a soft jingle as she lifted her hand, as if brushing away some unseen dust. “still, a change of scenery is good for the soul... and the wit.”

she did not correct him. not yet. if he wanted to call her lady zahra, she would let him. the truth could wait until it was more amusing to reveal.

“your invitation reached farther than you might have guessed,” she said. “and i found myself... curious.” she let the word linger, almost lazy. “besides, there are worse places to be trapped with strangers and wine.” zahra leaned in a fraction, her voice lowering just enough to be heard over the din. “and i thought perhaps you owed me a rematch.”

she stepped back with a glimmer of laughter in her eyes, letting the scent of cardamom and leather trail after her. “shall we see if the knight of ninestars has grown any luckier?”

Closed starter for @dancingshores Setting: Semi-flashback, set during the hunting expedition in Ninestars. Percival opened the invitation to nobles, royals, and courtiers from all over Westeros in hopes of making opportune connections for himself and his family (And frankly, he wasn't actually expecting Dornish folk to attend).

The great tent was humming with the low murmur of voices, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter and the clatter of goblets against the tables. Outside, the air was getting crisper and colder as the evening began to settle. It had been a great first day of the hunt, and some conversations the Knight of Ninestars had through the day settled the true purpose of the hunt. Not the chase of wild beast, not the skill to kill, but the connections and the maneuvering that came with it.

Percival Templeton sat at the head of one of the long tables, his posture composed despite the aches left by the day’s ride. The scars from the dragon's burns had healed, but some of the echoes of such pain still remained. His cup of wine was cradled loosely in his hand, though he had barely touched it, his attention instead drifting across the gathering. He took stock of who had attended, who had made their presence known, and who had taken the opportunity to ingratiate themselves. And then, his gaze landed on her as she walked.

The Dornish woman was draped in colorful silks, carrying herself as someone accustomed to being seen. Percival remembered her. How could he not recall such a face? He had played cards with her and the Lannister months ago, in a smoke-filled chamber during the dragon king's coronation celebrations. It had been her who had walked away with more coin than she arrived with. The Commander had not thought much of the Dornish lady then, but the difference now was that she was here at his hunt, eating his food and drinking his wine, and he wanted to know why.

The Knight of Ninestars took a slow sip from his cup before he got up from his seat and made his way to the woman. “I did not think the Dornish had as much love for hunting as we do in the Vale. But perhaps I misjudged,” he spoke as he appeared on her way. His gaze lingered, measured. She was a long way from home. “It is a surprise to see you again, Lady Zahra,” the lord added, offering a polite nod to her.

I was one of the lucky ones. Moonlight was always flowing within my sea-like heart.

Julia de Burgos