The Quiet Of The Corridor Wrapped Around Them, The Flicker Of Torchlight Casting The Two Women In A Dance

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.

a bag was slung over the shoulder of the dancer as she stood within the first minister's solar, no doubt wanting to converse about important dates to come. the stars often foretold what the gods had planned for them, and zahra had spent much of her life studying them under the guidance of her own father. the stars themselves led ships across the seas, and sailors back to their own homes, it was practically in her blood to find herself in a position where many questioned what the very sky itself had paved for them.

the formalities presented by the first minister brought a faint smile to her face, though she tried to play the part of refined lady, zahra had always though the lord of starfall to be incredibly serious in all matters, though she certainly appreciated the effort and niceties. "my lord." she responded.

his next words, however, struck her, and she could not hide the slight widening of her eyes at the observation. of course, she knew why that was, but no one had much such a bold statement. "i have never been compared to her grace, but she is a beautiful woman, so i will certainly take that as a compliment." zahra stated, purposefully being vague. "what dates do you have concerns about, my lord?" she questioned, hand dipping into her bag and pulling out a small journal and charcoal to write them down for future use.

| @dancingshores | | setting :: her faces freaks him out, he demands to know why. | | banter length |

Baashir wanted to talk to her about dates, it was why he called her there and set up this meeting but it wasn't going to work. He looked at her and he felt a strange since of familiarity and discomfort. The first time he glimpsed her, he couldn't recall when, he recalled turning and walking away from her and wondering why she had Myriam's face and now she couldn't be avoided. She was apart of court. She was in their court and it would be rude to ignore a member of court these days. No longer was he Myriam's personal guard, he was the first minister. The bridge between those around them and the stewardess or the little princess.

"Lady Sand." Baashir looked at her, studied her, watched her closely. He didn't think that was her title but the conservative Dornish lord would never feel comfortable with such familiarity. He already felt stranger speaking to her in a solar where only the two of them stood there, sat in a space as unmarried people. It made him feel ... it was hard to understand. Hard to work with.

"You have the same face as Princess Myriam Allyrion and I don't understand why. Do you know you share her face?" He furrowed his brow as he took a seat, he gestured to the chair in front of him. He didn't mean to start so bluntly but he needed to clear the air. Perhaps she would say the looked nothing alike, she would be a liar but he would let it pass. Or, or she also saw it and would pretend to not see it.

"Oh, and dates. I have questions about dates..."

Aditi Rao Hydari for Siddartha Tytler Couture' 24

ADITI RAO HYDARI in FITOOR (2016)

Aditi Rao Hydari in Heeramandi (Netflix, 2024)

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.

zahra took a deep breath, steadying herself as she met myriam’s eyes. the weight of the conversation, of the very woman they discussed, pressed on her chest like a stone. she was careful, always careful, but there was no denying the tension in the air now, thick with the lingering presence of a past neither of them had ever fully embraced. the volantene woman was a thread she hoped would remain unraveled, but it had been tugged, and now they were caught in the weave.

“myri,” zahra said, her voice soft, almost soothing, as she took a scooted closer, the firelight casting shadows that flickered across her calm face. her posture was relaxed, but inside, her thoughts spun in anxious circles. she had to guide this conversation carefully, avoid the tightrope of truth that stretched between them. "i understand your hesitation. that woman, yes… she can be dangerous. but sometimes, danger is something we must face to get what we need. if that’s what this is, if it’s poison we need to counter poison, then perhaps she’s the only one who can help us.”

the dancer placed a hand gently on the other's shoulder, grounding her friend as much as she tried to ground herself. she could feel the weight of the moment—the future of the child in myriam’s arms, the fragility of peace, the unspoken history between them and the woman they knew only as a shadow in the distance.

“i know her, yes,” zahra continued, her voice steady and smooth as if she were telling a simple fact. “heard whispers, firstly, but I’ve only met her once. just once, and it was brief.” she let the words settle, watching myriam’s eyes closely. "she has a way about her, myri. she’ll never be an ally in the way you want her to be, but she might help us, perhaps our cause will resonate with her." her gaze softened, but there was something unreadable in her eyes. "there may be a price to it, but we can handle that. i'll get in touch with her, i promise." she swallowed.

gently, zahra placed a hand on myriam's arm, her voice soft but steady. "enough about her for now," she said, trying to shift the conversation, to ease the tension that had tightened the room.

her gaze dropped to the baby cradled in myriam’s arms, so small and delicate, her little face peaceful as she slept. the sight of inaaya was a balm, a reminder of everything that mattered. “look at her,” ahra said with a soft smile, her eyes warm as she looked at the newborn. “she’s a reminder that there’s still hope. you’ve just brought her into the world. you’ve done something no one can take away from you. she’s going to grow up in a world of your making. and you’re already shaping that world with everything you’ve done and will do." she offered a reassuring smile. "and i will always be here to help you."

❂

myriam’s fingers curled tighter around the bundle in her arms, her daughter’s warmth grounding her amidst zahra’s words. her eyes flicked to the fire and back to zahra, narrowing slightly at the mention of cost. everything had a cost—she knew that well enough—but there was a part of her, stubborn and unyielding, that hated to hear it out loud. clarity? peace? how much would those cost, too?

“peace,” she repeated, her voice quiet but crackling with a tension she couldn’t quite mask. “they always say it’s for the children, don’t they? for leila. for inaaya.” her gaze dropped to the baby’s tiny face, soft and unburdened. “but when has peace ever come easy in dorne? when has it ever come without someone taking more than they’re owed?” and for a moment, she found herself thinking about the reality of her life. the scandal which swirled around her name, the backlash; how she had chosen to be with someone for an attempt at happiness.

and in the end, she had birthed their child in his home alone; with only zahra by her side. had that been for dorne too? how that could have ended up being the end of her story truly made her sit and disassociate - would her possible death, a cold corpse on bloodstained bedsheets, have been the ending she deserved? an anticlimactic, quiet death.

she shifted inaaya in her arms, her free hand brushing against the baby’s hair, dark like baashir’s. like her own. a storm of thoughts swirled in her mind, zahra’s measured tone clashing with her own fiery impulses. trust, power, cost—she hated the way those words hung in the air, heavy and inevitable.

“i don’t want her,” she said suddenly, her voice sharper now. “that volantene woman, whoever she is, she sounds like poison wrapped in silk. but maybe that’s what we need. poison to counter poison.” she let out a harsh breath, her frustration spilling out like water over stone. her chest tightened at the thought of leila, her firstborn, who carried the weight of a legacy myriam had only started to understand. and now inaaya, so small and fragile, already bound to a world of politics and war she couldn’t escape.

"do you know her?" myriam asked, her question direct as she looked upon her close friend. her closest friend, by the navigation of life. "for some reason i thought you did." somewhere in her mind she could have sworn she saw the two talking, though she could be wrong. she was probably wrong.

the golden lord’s words elicited a gentle laugh from zahra. lady he called her though she would not correct him. she found it fun when people did not really know who she was or how she fit into place. it made interactions like this somewhat more genuine. “seems simple enough.” zahra stated, as she leaned slightly back into her seat, hues watching as each card fell and was flipped upon the table until the lord ultimately lost his round.

“ah, what a shame. your coffers must be nearly drained.” zahra quipped in jest as hazel gaze shifted to the other lord now, quietly watching as he played his round. “gods, you have all the luck, huh?”

the dealer turned to zahra now and dealt her two cards: a jack of spades and six of hearts. fingers tapped upon the table as she contemplated her next move. should she not try, she would for certain lose. “hit.” she decided confidently, and her final card was revealed.

it was a five of clubs.

“congratulations my lady, you’ve achieved a blackjack.” the dealer stated, shifting the coins to her side of the table as zahra gave a few claps of her hands. “well it was either try again, or lose for certain, right?” she flashed a beaming smile in the direction of each at the table. “i can see why you lords could play this game all night, that was thrilling.”

@nicholaslannisters

"Lady Zahra," Nicholas said with a wide grin, tilting his head in greeting. He waited until she had taken her seat upon the empty chair before settling again himself. Nicholas leaned over, clapping Percival on his shoulder before giving it a firm, almost excited shake. What was it about the captain, that attracted so many stormy individuals? The mysterious northern woman, Leo Lefford, and now a star-spangled knight and dark beauty.

"I may be bleeding gold, my friend, but bleeding for a lady makes any outcome much more enjoyable." His words were met with another thunderous laugh as he released the Valeman, and the Heir of Lannisport tossed a hand up to a servant to indicate another round be brought to their gambling table.

"The game is Blackjack." The servant floated over as he explained the rules, setting the drinks upon the table. The dealer that ran the table nodded his greeting to the new participant, and quickly dealt Zahra into the game. "Twenty-one or bust, my lady." Nicholas said, his thick eyebrows waggling as he took a heavy sip from his cup.

His voice humorous, but the truth was, Percival Templeton had been busting him nearly broke.

Nicholas turn came first, and as the dealer flipped a six of hearts and a Jack of spades face up in front of him. "Sixteen," he said, and Nicholas couldn't help but groan. Already, the odds weren't in his favor.

"Hit, or stay?" The dealer asked. Nicky knew he should stay, wait it out and try for some luck. But with the arrival of their new opponent, he waggled his eyebrows again instead. "Hit."

The dealer flipped his card over, revealing an eight of diamonds. "24, my lord. Bust."

Nicholas slammed his hand down on the table, making the chips jump upon the surface. His face twisted in mock annoyance, before his loud laugher returned again, and he tossed his gold coins upon the table. "Another bloody wound…" @percival-templeton

the dark hues of zahra sand fluttered back and forth between the two lords - almost reminding her of an eager puppy and a unamused cat in the way they greeted her and subsequently in the moods they exuded. it caused her to wander where the stars fell in the sky upon their births, she was fascinated. when the golden-like lord asked her name, a grin spread over her features. "zahra." she answered, her name rolling off her accented tongue. "you are too kind to allow to join. i know not what we play, but i am quick to learn." she interlaced her fingers on the table in front of her, sitting comfortably upon the velvet seat as if she were in her own home.

the dancer reached into her pocket and placed a velvet pouch on the table. "so, what are the rules, what's the bet?" head tilted to the side as she awaited an answer from either. "and no need to go easy on me, i shall win or lose fairly." she gave a nod of affirmation, a semblance of natural pride upon her features, now.

@nicholaslannisters

It was a card game, one with shuffling and gambling. Nicholas was a gambler, sure -- but with his own life. People bet on him in the lists, the battlefield, his horses. This was… similar to battle, in a way, with having to strategize one's wager and cards, but…

He was loosing. But each time his hand had failed him, it had been met with a thunderous laugh and another round of drinks delivered to the table. It preyed on his pride, and when one had Lannister gold, well… he was determined he'd be on the winning side eventually. It was all fun, after all -- and after his mother's attempts in Riverrun… though the lord across from him was no comrade, there had been no reason not to play a few rounds. Win or lose, it was a coronation.

There were people to meet, people to… find.

But now there was a chance he wouldn't lose -- and so he greeted the beautiful woman with a wide, bearded smile.

Ever the chivalrous knight, he stood, gesturing to an empty seat. "You do not mind, Percy?" Use of a nickname, despite barley knowing him. Titles, despite carrying a heavy one of his own, floating completely over his head. "We could level the playing field, with lady…?"

@percival-templeton

the hum of the hall’s conversation and music seemed to drift away as zahra sat gracefully across from ruqaiyah. the lady’s sharp words, deliberately loud enough to be overheard, hung in the air, but zahra met them with the calm patience she had honed over years of navigating moments like this. her fingers lightly smoothed the edge of her gown before folding neatly in her lap.

“my lady,” zahra said softly, her tone steady and warm, “the stars speak only of what is, not of what may not be. and in what they show, i see no uncertainty in your place beside prince ravi. your union has been spoken of as fact, a bond that seems as secure as the foundations of starfall itself.”

her gaze held the other's, kind and unwavering, as though she could will the other woman to feel the assurance she offered. “but the stars also reflect the weight of responsibility you carry. to stand at the side of a prince is no small thing, nor is it given lightly. what i see in you is strength—a strength both to endure and to lead. such qualities do not go unnoticed, not by the stars, and certainly not by the prince.”

she leaned forward slightly, her voice lowering just enough to add a layer of sincerity to her words. “if there are decisions before you, they are not matters of doubt, my lady, but of opportunity. i see paths that lead to triumph, not uncertainty.” she smiled, small and kind, letting her words linger.

her touch light, zahra traced ruqaiyah’s palm briefly, as if to underline her point. “the stars say nothing of rivals or questions of loyalty. they show only that you are destined to wield great influence, whether it be within the halls of starfall or beyond them.”

she allowed herself a softer tone as she finished. “uou are more than ready for this, my lady. and while the stars may guide, it is your own radiance that will truly illuminate the way forward. have faith in what you already know to be true, i apologize if i cast any misunderstandings.”

her smile lingered, gentle and composed, as if she hoped to ease the tension with her calm. “if there is anything more you seek, my lady, i am here to assist you,” zahra added, her voice imbued with quiet resolve.

★

ruqaiyah leaned back slightly, her glossy lips curving into a slow, calculated smile. the torches cast a golden light over her pale lavender gown, their glow playing across the delicate white gold embellishments that shimmered as though stars themselves adorned her. her hands remained extended, palm up, though her posture was anything but open.

“the stars are willing to speak, you say?” her voice lilted with amusement, soft and melodic, though laced with something sharp beneath. “how convenient for you, zahra. they always seem to have just enough to keep people intrigued, don’t they?” she tilted her head, dark hair cascading over one shoulder like a waterfall of silk. her amethyst eyes, so renowned in the courts of dorne, locked onto zahra’s with an intensity that made lesser women falter.

as zahra’s hands traced hers, ruqaiyah feigned a contemplative expression, though her thoughts were less charitable. strength to lead? to endure? how utterly unoriginal. does she think this is what i wish to hear? she resisted the urge to snatch her hands away, opting instead to let her fingers twitch, an unsubtle display of impatience.

“great responsibility,” she repeated slowly, her tone a perfect mimicry of zahra’s gentle cadence. the girl then let out a cruel giggle, a jewelled hand resting upon her jawline as she looked upon the woman who sat across from her. such beauty, it woud be enough to turn her green someday. ruqaiyah’s smile faltered for the briefest of moments as zahra’s words settled into the air between them. “a decision that weighs on me?” she echoed, her tone deceptively light, though her fingers tensed slightly in zahra’s grasp.

her amethyst eyes narrowed, studying the seer with the intensity of someone probing for a hidden insult. does she think to pry into my betrothal? does she dare to insinuate that the choice is not already made? she resisted the urge to strike the seer that sat across the table from her. the thought rankled her more than she let show. ruqaiyah was a master of poise, after all, and the court of sunspear was no place for a crack in one’s armor. but still, zahra’s words lingered, needling her like a thorn caught beneath her flawless skin.

"what do you have in that empty head of yours?" ruqaiyah asked, her voice purposefully getting louder, as though she sought to embarrass her by ensuring others would hear their conversation. a fake, poisoned smile was still plastered over her glossed lips. "do you suggest that prince ravi would seek to marry another but me?" they were both stupid; zahra and that foolish sister of hers, that did not know how to take a joke. that did not know how to let go of her shawl.