Setting: At The Verdant Concord, A Hidden Courtyard With A Reflective Pool Said To Grant “clarity Of

a subtle grin came over her features now, one that was night quite as bright as before, only crossing over her features at this time due to the satisfaction she felt in his response. perhaps he saw little in her reading, but she believed she saw much, and perhaps there was more to it than he let on. zahra also believed in free will - though the stars would always hold their fates in their hands, free will could alter the path to what led them there. whatever choices he made, however, lead to the star - to healing, and she hoped, true satisfaction in wherever he found himself.

but perhaps that was simply the hopefulness that seemed to be her very nature. though zahra were not a fool to the realities of their world, being a bastard herself she knew that her place was a strange one even in dorne, one that toed the line between nobility and the common person, especially in lands such as the one they were currently in. she knew, ultimately, her power lie in her own mind, and the way she interacted and reacted to the world around her. it were likely in this that she took so keenly to reading the stars, to understanding them, and therefore, those and the world around her.

a hum of a laugh emitted from her as she reclaimed the cards once again, hands neatly packing them together one more time before slipping them back into a pocket within golden skirts. "well, i am glad i did not. the star is my favorite to reveal." hands fell to her lap, fingers interlaced as she observed the man before her. "i hope to see it unfold for you." she added gently, though there was little more to read into with those words, only that zahra genuinely hoped to see the lord of yronwood find some semblance of peace and contentment - knowing even vaguely what he endured in his past.

the dancer ran a hand through chestnut curls, wondering how to begin to answer such a question. it were not difficult, but she disliked such things regarding the stars - they were not always kind to everyone. the outcome were not always one that led to positivity and fruitfulness. "yes, i had a lord, or rather, some sailor who though it'd be fun to have his cards read." she shrugged. "i thought perhaps he would be open-minded, being well traveled and all." index fingers tapped together in her lap, as if to help her recall the memory. "i revealed the ten of swords, explained it's meaning - suffering, betrayal - and well, i've certainly become selective of the kind of readings i do for strangers."

there was a slight bit of anxiousness from her now, not entirely within her nature, so when he offered, she were not hesitant to accept it. "yes, please, unless you are overdue for rest soon. i tend to lie awake with the stars." she jested.

she inhaled a moment, wondering how to phrase a question that lingered in her mind. "i take it you do not believe much in the cards, the stars." zahra observed, "forgive me, if i am wrong, but may i ask what you hold your belief in, then? do you look to anything else for guidance?"

꙰

there was a radiance of positivity that seemed to come from the dancer of the salt shore: one that was not insufferable, or even unrealistic - a sense of optimism that came across as legitimate and true. it was not needed in the form of constant cheery chatting, or grins that were more false than true. it was for that he held a quiet respect for her efforts, and her art, regardless of his own personal belief: as much as his own skepticism was clear on his face, he did not interrupt or speak over her but rather allow her to fully explain where it was she was coming from.

it was not uncommon for those in dorne to find such importance in astrology, for even his own mother held great value and respect to the gurus of yronwood, able to read into what she could not. he had heard that his mother had been attempting to find marriages for him, utilising the positioning of the planets of his own birth to assess for compatibility. the reject listen was apparently a feat in itself. "not far off." the short words he gave her regarding her predictions and supposed guidance, for truly, they were not as far off as he had initially expected.

only, such thoughts were not rooted in the optimism of the court seer, but rather the harsh realities of life for the bloddroyal. new beginnings needed to be made, and it was something he was reflecting on more than ever before as he noted the increasing distance between himself and the lady of kingsgrave. "i will spare you my attempt to do so, lest i draw cards of gloom and misery." he leaned forward to shuffle them together once more, helping the woman collect and reorganise her belongings that slipped back into the pockets within the skirts of her shimmering golden lehengha. still, his comment made him think.

"have you ever had a bad experience in doing such things?" he asked, leaving his question purposefully broad - though it could allude to the drawing of cards that were rooted in tragedy. it could also apply to the strange antics of the people whose cards she had read, no doubt the westerosi above them have a far more traditional view on such matters. witchcraft, is what they would deem it to be: the easiest way to shoot down what one did not understand. he wordlessly handed her over her deck of cards, watching her tuck it away once again.

he noted the slow extinguish of the coals of their shisha, the room continuing to be filled with a haze, scented with the smell of sandalwood and jasmine. "want another one?" he asked, rising from the pillows they had been sat upon, no doubt an offer to set it up once again - watching as she continued to hold onto the pipes.

zahra offered a smile to the person xia-li was conversing with before they departed, no doubt realizing the northern woman's interest had been long lost, and now shifted to the dornish dancer. she felt for xia-li in that moment, not quite sure what it was like to feel it necessary to maintain such relationships, to have to consider a lifetime partnership in every unmarried lord she might cross paths with. zahra did not necessarily think a lifetime with someone was impossible, but it was also not a thing she had to worry for for the sake of her family.

"none who can keep rhythm as well as you do." she offered a wink to the other, enjoying the little phrasing game that came between them whenever their paths crossed. she found the other woman to be captivating in more ways than tangled up in silks, so regardless of what their visits entailed, zahra knew she would always enjoy them,

she practically glided towards the other woman now to close more distance between the two so their conversation may be more private to any wandering ears nearby. one arm crossed over her chest while another hand reached up to her neck, finger mindlessly running back and forth through the golden chain and pendant around her neck. "how have you been liking highgarden? a visit to check off of your list?"

taste of bittersweet wine lingers long after xia-li's taken the last sip. it's the only thing keeping her focused on the conversation she'd been caught in the middle of and even then, bored gaze still manages to drift off towards the scenery that surrounded the reach. how far must she go to find respite from the droning of marriages and gossip of nobility she's barely familiar? is this what her brother expects her to suffer through for the sake of reputation?

she's hardly ready to accept that harsh reality and it's no one's fault except her own. had she refrained from pleading for any modicum of adventure she could find, she might have been content settling. this simply won't do. not when she's seen the marketplaces in yi ti, bustling with culture and life. or the golden shores of dorne where warm water is ready to envelop her and every worry that she allows to creep into her subconscious. she feels so restricted while in the presence people who should feel like kin and spends time wishing she could forge her own way to one of the places she cherishes more than most.

one of many reasons makes their presence known, voice like warm honey gracing the ladies attention. it's been a while since she spoken with zahra, experienced her, and xia-li is quick to abandon her previous conversation for one that elicits actual excitement. "it's been too long, sweet zahra. far too long." grin is returned with one of her own, laziness of it not nearly capturing the entirety of the lady's happiness. "have you missed me as much as i have you? or have you found new partners to share your dances with?" jest made with little seriousness. they both moved as the wind did, and the freedom between them keeps her affections for the woman at the forefront.

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

Julia de Burgos

setting : somewhere outside of highgarden, starter for @xialigreenleaf

the reach had been an interesting visit, to say the least. zahra did not much have the opportunity to travel, but she was glad she was able to see these lands. they were so green and fruitful. beautiful, and and still she preferred the sands of dorne over all. the endless sunshine upon her skin.

she was lost in her own thoughts, as she could often be, dreaming of other things. it was a downfall, some might say, to not always be fully present, but zahra found a balance in both presence and dreaming, so she believed. eyes wondered around at the landscape and architecture surrounding her, when suddenly they set upon a familiar figure. one she knew quite intimately.

the woman of the north had been more than just whims of passion when the two had met some time ago during the dornish talks, she had actually become a great friend, someone zahra genuinely cared for. they found companionship in their curiosities about lands other than their own, able to sate the other with stories of the northern mountains and dornish shores respectively. she did not think she would often again see the other, until this moment.

“hello, xia-li.” the raven haired woman spoke, lips curled upward into a friendly smile, one that reached the corners of her eyes.

Aditi Rao Hydari in Heeramandi (Netflix, 2024)

me: *points to space* !!!!!!

friend: ????

me: *points to space more violently* !!!!!!!!!

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.

she were entirely flustered, that much was obvious just by taking one look upon the features of zahra sand's face. she had never been one that was good at hiding what she were truly feeling, a consequence of her art, where all feeling was expressed upon her face. now she cursed it, fighting the tears stinging at her eyes, agitated by the flushing of her cheeks as she walked away from such an encounter. zahra had never expected such a thing, and she had desperately wished her father did not make her aware of exactly who her mother was.

but he had, and now she had been seen by the woman as well. it were not a warm reunion, it were one that made zahra's veins entirely run cold, because she desperately did not want a certain secret revealed without it being uttered from her own lips. and she were not ready for such a thing, at least, not yet.

the dancer hoped the tense mood that lingered heavily in the air would provide the perfect excuse for her demeanor, but that plan was entirely thwarted when she were approached by halima, a woman she did not know entirely well, but could never quite place her mind, and that unsettled her. "i have been around." zahra stated, plainly. "i was with lady fowler, earlier." she added, almost as if to cover her tracks.

an excuse that was quickly dismissed by the revelation that she had been seen earlier. lips rolled in frustration as her arms crossed over her chest. "some courtesan of one of the volantene lords. i did not appreciate her rude demeanor during such a serious time."

it were a terrilble lie, because zahra hadn't a clue how to back that up, but she hoped halima would simply stop pressing.

closed starter for @dancingshores

halima knew what she saw, but what she had yet to figure out was how the pieces of the puzzle fit together. she had laid out the facts, examined them carefully, and still felt like there was something missing. that bothered her more that she let on.

what she knew was this: the volantene had arrived to bring justice for lord jordayne. in the midst of the lockdown, halima had stumbled upon a conversation she was not supposed to see, one she had watched from the shadows, unable to make out the word exchanged, but recognising that it was heated and private and something she should not be watching, and one of the parties involved in that conversation was stood before her now : zahra sand. she should have already told armaan of this, but something held her back. the fear of delivering incorrect information, something that hardly mattered at all, perhaps.

her head tilted, gaze unyielding as she took in the dancer, her mannerisms and natural expressions, so that she may note any changes to it should she choose to lie. "i don't think i've seen you since the volantene were here," her words were lazy, drawling.

"who was she?" there was an almost imperceptible shift to halima's demeanour, a hardening and sharpening as she prepared to cut to the heart of what she was after, with all the subtlety of a war-hammer. "the woman you were speaking with? seemed quite the emotional little chat."

the garden had stilled around them, as if even the ivy and jasmine were listening. only the faint music from the distant festival threaded through the hedges now, soft and broken, like a half-remembered song.

zahra stayed seated for a long moment, fingers smoothing over the fabric pooled in her lap. she heard the plunk of myriam’s jewelry being shed, the rustle of cloth loosened from skin, but she couldn’t move just yet. her eyes drifted over the courtyard, checking the slant of every shadow, the murmur of the leaves, the glimpse of stone paths winding into the dark.

still no one. at least, no one focused on anything but themselves. here, it was only them. only this small, secret moment.

slowly, her shawl slid from her shoulders in a whisper, pooling forgotten on the stone. she reached up and unclasped her bangles, one by one, the metal cool against her warmed skin. she set them beside her, neat and careful, then unpinned her delicate earrings. the night air whispered over her arms, bare now except for the sleeveless choli that clung to her ribs and shoulders, the deep burgundy silk catching the stray lantern light like a secret.

her skirt shimmered slightly when she shifted, the intricate embroidery swallowing the colors of the dusk. she hesitated again, her hands brushing the ties at the back of her choli, thoughtful. myriam had shrugged out of her own jewels so carelessly, laughing and half-ready to strip the night from her skin without a second thought. zahra almost followed her lead, the temptation of that wildness stirring, but she caught herself, fingers lingering a moment too long before she let the ties be, for now.

zahra stepped lightly to the water’s edge, pausing for a heartbeat to glance back through the gardens, a watchfulness she could not quite lay down. then, gently, she dipped one foot into the pool. the water was cool and clean, a sharp little kiss against her skin. a breath escaped her, more a sigh of relief than surprise.

"I have been quiet," zahra said, her voice a low murmur that barely stirred the air between them. she wiggled her toes in the water, sending shy ripples outward. "i think...at court.." she paused, choosing her words with care, "...it's heavier than i thought it would be. i’m grateful. i’m glad for the work, the music, the dance... i love it."

she looked up at myriam then, her expression open and unguarded, the way it rarely was anymore. "but sometimes," she continued, dipping her other foot in, skirts floating up like soft petals, "there are little things—voices, glances, songs half-heard, that remind me of things. of jasveer. of the volantese. the borders. other kingdoms, that perhaps i feel better if i didn't know."

zahra let herself sink until the coolness lapped just beneath her ribs, arms floating loosely at her sides, face tilted toward the ink-blue sky. the stars seemed closer here, reflected in the trembling surface around them.

she opened one eye, peeking over at myriam with a faint, crooked smile. "the water must be working already," she said, playful but warm. "i’m spilling secrets like wine at a wedding."

❂

myriam was holding her heels in one hand and a bruised plum in the other, and somehow neither seemed more dignified than the other. the stone was cool beneath her bare feet, but she liked it that way—it reminded her she was still warm. in her mind, she heard the sounds of quickened breath in the distance: the third set of lovers they had come across this night in these mazes. she quietly whistled as they walked by, still holding her heels but glancing at zahra, about to open her mouth to disrupt them but the whistle was more than enough.

"oh, he's found her button." she whispered to her best friend, giggling slightly in a way she usually did not - a hand resting over her lips as they continued to wak quicker, considering the whistle brought the couple to a sudden stop.

she had taken to walking barefoot through the mazes of highgarden this night after being on the dance floor, as if they belonged to her, weaving through whispering hedges and lingering jasmine with zahra at her side, the scent of wine still on her breath but her mind entirely lucid. she wasn’t drunk. she was in bloom. “clarity,” she said, repeating the word with a touch of disdain and mischief, the way one might say virtue at a brothel. “if i wanted clarity, i’d ask one of those no-lipped septas to shriek it at me from a pulpit, not come whispering for it at a pool.”

the water shimmered as if offended. myriam didn’t care. she was grinning. she wandered a little closer to zahra, her hips swaying lazily with each barefoot step, her long skirts brushing against her calves like whispers from an old lover. “you talk as though you think this pool knows you?” she said, voice curling low and affectionate, the sound of her anklets jingling as she walked with a spring in her step. “i’d like to see it try.” she stepped up onto the rim of the pool, arms stretched a little for balance. the surface reflected the bruised dusk above and the halo of torchlight around her limbs. the water trembled at her feet, a pale sliver between stillness and chaos.

“if this thing really grants clarity,” she continued, glancing down at zahra with a breathy laugh, “then gods help it. i’ve half a mind to dive in and make it mine.”

the wind stirred her thick cascade of hair, carrying with it the sweet, faintly fermented breath of fruit wine and garden blooms. she tilted her head as she looked down at her friend, her dark eyes narrowing with a sultry warmth that was not flirtation but devotion, of the sort only shared between women who had known each other long enough to see through most masks. zahra was thinking too much again. myriam could see it in the angle of her shoulders, in the way she folded herself like parchment—something once danced upon, now waiting for ink.

“you know,” she said softly, stepping down beside her, sinking gracefully onto the stone edge of the pool with legs folded like silk, “you’ve gone quiet lately. it’s not your silence—it’s what you aren’t saying in it.”

and still, as they spoke, myriam's hands moved to unclasp the jewelery from around her hips, shimmying out of it as well as what was around her neck. whilst she fancied a swim, she would not get her gold wet. she then moved to unclasp her blouse's halterneck style, half tempted to at least strip her top half bare if she were to go swimming. "come in with me? we can float and yap away."