Latest Posts by dancingshores - Page 3

setting : during the dornish lockdown, this is before amaia sees zahra speaking to a volantene woman ; starter for @opheliafowler

there was a gray aura that seemed to wrap around the golden court of sunspear this day, though it seemed to have been everyday since the night the moon went down. the wound felt as raw as the day she had heard the word's uttered from the princess regent's lips regarding the fate of rashid jordayne. and ever since that day, the dancer who floated about like a kite in the wind had remained utterly still, fixated, as if a storm had rolled over the sunny day that was her normal demeanor, and had not quite cleared. even attempts to move through her grief, at times, only intensified it. and so there were times where feet did not move at all, where the sound of bangles had ceased entirely.

zahra hoped that would change today, was certain the stars had showed her justice and peace would be achieved. it was written wasn't it? she had thought, until what was to be a trial, was suddenly an execution, and the court of sunspear collectively raised a brow at the assumption of their guests. then the prince called for the palace to be locked down, and the dornish court began to engage in intense conversation with those of volantis.

the dancer of salt shore had moved from her father's side, who had uttered words into her ear that sent a shockwave down her spine, eyes unable to stop glancing towards a particular volantene woman, a paramour of one of the lords engaging with the martell prince. hazel hues were still fixated on her when she accidentally bumped into someone.

head pivoted quickly to see the image of ophelia fowler, and an audible sigh left zahra's lips as she kept her gaze fixated on the lady before her now. "sorry." she murmured, bringing her hands to cross in front of her lehenga as discussions around the room began to grow louder. "it seems our guests are unaware of our customs. i'm feeling entirely uneasy about this whole thing." she stated, perhaps wanting to find a sense of commiseration in her feelings.

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.

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

friend: ????

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

it was only a matter of time before the winds had brought the kite that was zahra sand within the realm of armaan yronwood, who was perhaps the swirling storm that cast her his own way. it would be a lie to state she had no control over her own movements and desires. she found herself within these chambers because she wanted to be, aside from the invitation to join him this evening. long had her own hues looked towards the lord with lust and curiosity, but matters that were of a more personal nature seemed to put a wall between the two of them. there was a line at one point that neither would cross, and as she stood in this very room, she was grateful the lord had restrained himself then.

zahra's dark, enigmatic eyes held a glint of amusement as she accepted the goblet from him, the rich aroma of dornish red swirling in the air between them. the coy smile remained, revealing a playfulness that belied the complexities of the unspoken history they shared. lips found themselves upon the rim of the drink, savoring the taste of the liquid from within. "i was beginning to tire of arbor red myself." she stated nonchalantly, placing the goblet back down on the table between them.

brows rose at his statement, a hint of mischief within her demeanor now as body seemed to shift around the room, head swiveling and eyes wandering about as if to take in the chambers that were given to him for their stay. a hand went to his skirts, lightly bunching the golden silk fabric between her fingers as she absent-mindedly shuffled it between steps.

it was as if it were a game of cat and mouse, now, the way she moved about, increasing and decreasing the proximity between them, occasionally pausing to observe some object or picture. his question, admittedly, caught her off guard, and body stilled momentarily as she thought of what he was referring to. it only took her a moment to recall the occasion, and a laugh escaped her as her head shook. "i did." she answered.

she slipped back to the original spot in which she had taken the goblet from him. "it was far easier to pretend to not know you than to admit otherwise." the words were simple, but revealing of what really lay within her mind. he had caught her eye during her time in yronwood, in the fleeting moments passing one another by, the silent glances each one cast. perhaps if another moment had placed the two of them in a room as they were in now, she would've given into her desires far sooner.

"i played along, but why did you pretend you did not know me to begin with?" zahra questioned now, head tilting slightly to the side, genuine curiosity mixed with frivolous nature coming over her features.

his hair remained wet from his bath when the guards announced her presence, entering into his main audience chambers which was empty if not for the sight of the girl from sea shore. and yet still, he held his shirt in his hand as he walked into the side chamber, slipping it over himself.

the woman who was more like a free kite within the sky, tangled within the clouds and beyond the scopes of roots, was unable to be cornered by anybody: there was no way to capture, to keep her within the confines of a room, as much as she spoke of them. his pure attraction to zahra sand had run with a spark as it had done for years, when she were gracing the halls of yronwood with jingling anklets under the guidance and doting devotion of a father she had truly wrapped around her finger.

that attraction had run red hot and guilty, even when she were in the company of a man he would consider one of his closest friends. perhaps it was for that reason the bloodroyal only looked upon the spirited kite of salt shore within the bustling marketplace of the tor so many years ago.

looked, and pretended as though he were unable to recall who of lord gargalen's daughters he had been speaking to: and nonetheless, in the very back of his mind, there remained the memory of lingering looks over shoulders as she walked away, or comments in passing conversation where words seemed illicitly laced with more than they truly meant. there was a time where the force of gravity that seemed to pull between the pair was one that would have been guilty in essence, and it had taken much of his will power to curb his inherently selfish, reckless side.

and so, the thoughts that passed like the thundering of rains when he were in her presence were always just that. thoughts. "almost." he uttered, noting how somehow, the pair of them had ended up in the reach of all places. was their court not rumoured to be as scandalous as it was full with those who prayed for repentance? "i'll show you how you say my name."

it had been years since his cataclysmic, dark gaze had fallen upon her own: and yet, when there had been a circle surrounding the sound of dancing anklets, he had already known what he would stumble across. and so it continued, that cycle they found themselves in: lingering looks, flirtation, and that magnetic pull. it was not gentle. it was not soft. it was rough, and it were on flames. he wanted to unwrap her, push those golden skirts that she so happily showed up further up her thighs.

he wanted to unwrap her shawl from around her blouse, and run his hands up and down the curves of her body. she had come, had she not?

there was dornish red in two goblets that awaited them as a coy smile slipped over her features, and he silently noted the way in which her dimples appeared when she smiled. they looked the same. he wordlessly passed the goblet of wine into her hands, closing the physical distance between them; he brought it to his own lips first, as though to prove nothing had been done to the substance within the silver goblets. "you knew i recognised you then, didn't you?" he asked. referring to the time where they crossed paths again, this time when she were a ward of the tor.

and he knew. somehow, in the thick of the tension that should have existed. he knew there was guilt in the air; it were obvious there had been something between herself and the lord jordayne. and yet, it felt as though there was something impulsive and reckless about her too: the kite, unable to stop herself from becoming unrooted. "why did you play along?"

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

Julia de Burgos

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?”

lips curled upwards into a sly grin at the lords response, the subtle swaying, moment of her body that seemed to be her natural state suddenly slowing at the intrigue began to creep over her. it had been many years since her time in yronwood and zahra found herself coming to the realization that rarely had she encountered armaan yronwood in such a way. that is, without the presence of others going about their business, in a more casual fashion that sitting over dinner listening to talks of trade and goods.

words were not wind, but a dance that zahra sand had, too, perfected in all of her years. she knew little of her fathers endeavors, though perhaps more than she let on, but it had always served her better to cloak herself in the ignorance, that seemed to give her a sense of safety in not knowing, or pretending not to know, if such things. zahra sand had always focused her mind and actions on other things, and truthfully her own craft took up enough of her time to worry about the dealings of salt shore.

head tilted slightly at his words, though features remained amused, light hues filled with curiosity, bordering on eagerness, as if the two of them had found themselves engaging in some game. “perhaps such a reason will come to me later.” later, she had stated, as if she very well knew this would not be the last encounter they would have during their time in the reach. “it’s simply that i do not need to know, lord yronwood. i tend to mind my own.” there was a casual shrug of her shoulders associated with the remark. there was a line between willful ignorance and a desire to remain in the dark that she delicately treaded upon. it made her own world a lot more simple, and detached.

eyebrows quirked up at the prospect of pleasure becoming business. zahra had always seen dancing as a sort of pleasure, though it was an art, too. passion that descended beyond pure dedication and skill and intertwined itself into her very life like vines upon a trellis, one of the very many in the very gardens in the reach. perhaps such a thing was based upon perspective. though pleasure and business was as elusive as a desert mirage, in her own world. “perhaps then such business would actually catch my interest.” she mused, the lips pulling into a grin. “what kind of business would that be, my lord? surely you must dabble in it yourself.”

dancingshores​:

“of course.” zahra replied, tone taunting as she gave a wave of her hands, as if to say that everything about her was on the surface to read, as if to imply that is all there was to her, but that really wasn’t the case, only what she hoped seemed to be. she thought she was likely predictable as she was flighty, but there was more that lie beneath the surface of the dancer of salt shore, should one decide to dig deeper.

frame floated nearer to him now, close enough to observe dark orbs more closely, one’s she found herself ogling at as a young girl in the halls of yronwood. she was not a girl anymore, but the intrigue with the man before her remained. there was some darkness about the man, no doubt a cloak of the tragedy of betrayal that befell him, but she was the sun, eager to shine her light, if only a moment.

“yah jaanane ka abhaav ki vah kab hoga, manoranjan ka hee ek hissa hai.” ( not knowing when that will be is only part of the fun. ) zahra insisted, head tilting slightly to the side, a half-smirk coming upon the corners of her mouth. a hand shifting the silk skirts of her golden lehenga, even standing still for a brief time seemed impossible for the woman who’s feet never touched the ground.

for that is what there was to zahra sand, she did not have roots, she had wings, and the woman never seemed to perch for long. where some believed it to be a downfall, she found to be a gift. not many had the opportunities she did, and while she was a bastard, there was privilege in her birth. she often had the opportunities to experience both parts of their world.

her arms folded over her chest now, suddenly stilling, the very cogs of her mind clearly seen moving behind hazel hues. “aur vah kya kaaran hoga?” ( and what reason would that be? ) her tone was on the brink of being almost challenging in her inquiry.

“he is well, and i am sure he would be glad to hear from you, my lord.” though zahra did not pay much attention to such business, she knew enough from the letters back and forth from her to her father. “i have been so busy i would not know much of his affairs. I prefer to deal in pleasures over business.”

꙰

truthfully, there was something about the woman that stood before him that reminded him of a kite: someone who held no roots to the ground, no place that called every part of her to submit to it, and it was something he had found himself pondering on silently over dinner so many years ago in the grand, ornate majesty of yronwood’s feasting hall. hearing his father and lord gargalan discuss matters so intensely and passionately, the men often on opposing sides of view and yet all would be cleared with laughter and drinking. armaan himself never found himself joining in, even at such a younger age as the one he were before his father was at the mercy of the true poison of dorne; not whilst the presence of his uncle remained on the table too.

her tone was almost challenging in her inquiry, and it was enough to cause a smile to cross over his features. it were laced in something else. “kyonki mein kar sakata hoon.” because i can, was his response to her question on reasons why he would wonder her way as she danced. his words were characteristically blunt, and he almost expected her to look at him with an irritated look. or perhaps she would find ways to dance around the topic with him, until she spun herself into a frenzy; there was a time where words became fickle. became useless, when it came to matters of action. “kyonki tumhen yah pasand hai.” because you like it. he dropped his words like a trap, remaining fixed comfortably in his position against the wall as she seemed unable to stand still. always moving something. “aap mujhe teesara kaaran bataiye.” you can tell me the third reason.

he thought on that time in his life with mixed feelings, including regret; regret for not realising the plans of his uncle far sooner, the only feeling he was able to obtain was that of being weirdly unsettled at the sight of him. there had never been a reason, and yet, over the sounds of lord gargalan and the dancing his bastard daughter did was some of the ladies of yronwood, armaan found himself unable to break his stormy gaze from his uncle. like a shadowcat, with his eyes locked on prey. of course, were the words she uttered as he asked whether she had continued to dance all of these years: it were a disciplined art form in dorne, that which took hours of perfection. the feet of dancers often bled and bruised due to exhausation; their art was their war.

“surprise surprise.” were the only words he uttered in her direction, amusement in his dark orbs: it were obvious she were doing some dance here, like a peacock. everything about her was utterly theatrical, even the way she playfully shook the golden skirts of her lehengha. she belonged upon the stages of the tor’s productions, so it seemed; though it were not his place to budge her to such a direction. there was an ease in knowing she would understand the way his accent wrapped huskily around his words, as whilst he did not lessen the accent for others in westeros, he knew she would at least understand him. “mujhe sandeh hai ki aap jaanana nahin chaahate.” i suspect you simply do not want to know.

it were not as though her father would not have her involved in matters should she simply ask; for she had managed to wrap her father around her fingers, and all of dorne knew it. she chose to stay out of such business, to continue to dabble only in the pleasures of life. there was beauty in ignorance, and safety in it too, especially in dorne of all places. “and what if pleasure becomes business?” he asked, his tone not accusatory or questioning for a change - but almost like a hook.

her eyes met his, and she couldn't help but notice the depth of emotion that lingered within them, as it always seemed to even some years ago. It was as if they were silently communicating, understanding the unspoken words that hung heavy in the air between them. the memories of their shared history flooded her mind, and she couldn't help but wonder what could have been, if they had chosen a different path, still, zahra never lingered long upon what might've occurred in her life had she made different choices. in truth, she didn't have regrets, and she very much enjoyed where she was at this point.

it seemed so silly now, to have let so many years slip by with not so much as a hello between them, though the lack of conversations and staying connected did not stem from a place of anger. perhaps in a way, they had both outgrown the relationship they had, the different paths they took providing clear evidence of such a fact. zahra was admittedly glad that he had eventually found what he was looking for for his home, a strong, beautiful wife to serve by his side.

though thoughts rushed through her mind like the currents of the greenblood, she did not feel bouts of anxiety creeping in her stomach, nor hoped to quickly end the conversation as soon as it began. zahra felt an overwhelming sense of peace, and perhaps this was simply the beginning of a new chapter for them, as the last had long been concluded. if she felt any emotion that might be evoked within her features, it was that of hope and happiness to have someone who was always so important to her in her life yet again, even in small doses such as passing by one another in the halls of sunspear.

"and you." she replied, suddenly realizing the breath she had held released, almost as if she was releasing the curtains she had drawn over herself, unsure if this encounter would provide some sense of solace for what had occurred between them in the past, or if perhaps there would be tensions. though she had braced herself for something, the moment he spoke she felt entirely foolish for it. it was entirely out of character for the rashid she knew to grasp onto such things and let wounds fester.

"still dancing." a soft laugh left her, the ease of speaking to the lord of tor coming over her now. "the princess invited me to teach her daughter, and i certainly couldn't refuse such an offer." though zahra hesitated to find herself planted in one spot, she was glad for many reasons to find an excuse to walk the halls of sunspear more often. "and you? i hope things have been well. i would certainly like to visit the tor again sometime." aside from her connection with the man before her, her time there had provided her with dear memories and friendships, along with things she would rather forget.

صبر

for all the theatrics and the drama that seemed to follow in the footprints zahra sand would leave within the golden dunes themselves, it were never the sort that were emotionally taxing: drama came in the form of flamboyant movements, of laughter, of facial expressions that said everything before her lips even parted. never was it raised voices and arguments, which is why when their end came, it came quietly; that slow wonder of whether there was anything wrong between them for them to be feeling on such opposites pages of the same book the way they did.

the morning sun made strands of her hair appear more auburn in some streaks as they sat beside one another, listening to the distant sounds of a flute playing in the time where silence sat between the pair of them; the tune of that flute had remained imprinted into his mind, even now, so many years later. that had been the conversation in which they addressed the clear differences in their lives, and in what they wanted from them; coming to the ultimate conclusion that there was no way for them to continue in their adoration and devotion to one another without one sacrificing what they needed, or wanted.

truthfully, he knew not why he had hesitated on merely bridging the gap between them and approaching her: instead, finding silent humour in the fact that the both of them had paused in their journey to merely stand some spaces away from one another. he were glad to hear the sound of his name leaving from her lips in a tone that showed there was no resentment or anger, for it was the exact same as what she would find within him; only, there were moments where it seemed the nerves seemed to swell within her. and it were impossible not to notice, considering the look she shared upon her face: she may as well have started moving her feet from side to side, to quell out the nerves.

"zahra." he greeted in response to the uttering of his name, taking some steps forward to meet her, always meeting her right in the middle. his choice of language was not awkward or strained, but rather with a degree of warmth to it: for despite the years that had gone in their natural separation, he was happy to see her. in sunspear of all places, walking with a degree of comfort and ease around the majestic halls which seemed to suggest this was hardly to be the last time he came across her here. "it is good to see you." and his words were genuine, for he meant them: he were able to look upon her, and not feel as though he were inwardly spiralling.

he were able to look upon her, and have an immense love for the history they had once shared with one another: without feeling as though he were nothing.

to make homes out of people is folly, was what he had spoken to dastan allyrion some days ago; and here was the woman that had taught him such a thing. he only cared for her more for it. he raised a humble hand to his chest as he accepted her congratulations, nodding his head; looking around at the marriages in dorne, he were more and more thankful for his wife each passing day. "thank you. the gods did bless me that day." he spoke, his tone warm in thinking of it. he looked upon her, taking her in almost: not in a way that suggested lust, but in a way that was reconnecting.

"and i guess it was only a matter of time before you found yourself in sunspear. what are you doing these days?"

Aditi Rao Hydari for Siddartha Tytler Couture' 24

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.

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..."

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."

slender fingers let the parchment that hazel hues had just scanned over roll back into the position in which is was given to her, the smooth paper being placed upon a table near the doors of her chamber. there was quiet instruction to the pageboy awaiting outside her doors, an indication of her acceptance of such an invitation. a feeling of satisfaction came over her, though such parchment did not come entirely as a surprise, truth be told. it was not the words they spoke earlier in the evening that gave way to her intuition, rather, the tone that hung over them the entirety of their conversation.

adorned in the same golden lehenga, the soft sound of clinking anklets could be heard as she made her way down the hall of the wing set aside for the dornish court within highgarden. though the hour was late, and the hall mostly quiet, few others passed her on her way to the lord of yronwood’s chambers. hazel orbs seemed to fixate on the path in front of her, a habit she often found herself taking to within her very art - for when she had her mind set to one thing, it would take much to stop her.

a shimmer of gold approached the large oak doors, and after a quick knock she was let within the room. chestnut waves swayed back and forth as she entered, the very steps she took almost giving way to the natural rhythm of her body. her lips tugged upwards in a smile now. though her features remained playful as they ever were, there now held some predatory look within her eyes, the slightest dilation of one’s pupils as she looked upon the lord now, but one would need to be close to notice such a thing.

it begged the question of whether she was the predator, or the prey - something she had wondered earlier in the evening, and perhaps fell into being the latter given she had waltzed into his trap. though she were not some meek mouse in the clutches of a feline. there was enough of a hint in her eyes that indicated she, too, could be the cat, though she would not say he were the mouse, either.

thoughts played in her mind as she stepped further in, though still some paces from the other. the slight tilt of her head causing dark tresses to pour to one side of her shoulder, framing the same side of her face. “armaan.” she spoke now, his name rolling off of her tongue as a coy smile played upon her features, a slight dimple appearing upon her cheek. “kya aap chaahate hain ki main aapako in kakshon kee seema ke bheetar bulaoon?" ( is that what you wish me to call you within the confines of these chambers? ) a drop in formalities, his letter implied. it seemed clear there was no need for them here.

who: @dancingshores what: a note sent to zahra sand following armaan's departure from the wedding festivities of king cedric tyrell and lady illya oakheart. this is set following their interaction, currently in thread form.

Send a page before you make your way to my bedchambers.

The guards will know you are coming.

Keep the gold lehenga on.

Armaan

@xialigreenleaf

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

Toni Morrison, from ‘Sula’

ADITI RAO HYDARI in FITOOR (2016)

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.

…a dreamer. I walked enchanted, and nothing held me back.

Daphne Du Maurier, from Rebecca

"of course." zahra replied, tone taunting as she gave a wave of her hands, as if to say that everything about her was on the surface to read, as if to imply that is all there was to her, but that really wasn't the case, only what she hoped seemed to be. she thought she was likely predictable as she was flighty, but there was more that lie beneath the surface of the dancer of salt shore, should one decide to dig deeper.

frame floated nearer to him now, close enough to observe dark orbs more closely, one's she found herself ogling at as a young girl in the halls of yronwood. she was not a girl anymore, but the intrigue with the man before her remained. there was some darkness about the man, no doubt a cloak of the tragedy of betrayal that befell him, but she was the sun, eager to shine her light, if only a moment.

"yah jaanane ka abhaav ki vah kab hoga, manoranjan ka hee ek hissa hai." ( not knowing when that will be is only part of the fun. ) zahra insisted, head tilting slightly to the side, a half-smirk coming upon the corners of her mouth. a hand shifting the silk skirts of her golden lehenga, even standing still for a brief time seemed impossible for the woman who's feet never touched the ground.

for that is what there was to zahra sand, she did not have roots, she had wings, and the woman never seemed to perch for long. where some believed it to be a downfall, she found to be a gift. not many had the opportunities she did, and while she was a bastard, there was privledge in her birth. she often had the opportunities to experience both parts of their world.

her arms folded over her chest now, suddenly stilling, the very cogs of her mind clearly seen moving behind hazel hues. "aur vah kya kaaran hoga?" ( and what reason would that be? ) her tone was on the brink of being almost challenging in her inquiry.

"he is well, and i am sure he would be glad to hear from you, my lord." though zahra did not pay much attention to such business, she knew enough from the letters back and forth from her to her father. "i have been so busy i would not know much of his affairs. I prefer to deal in pleasures over business."

dancingshores​:

there was not a room that zahra could walk in and not become acquainted with someone, in this instance, it was many someone’s. though she much preferred dorne to any other region of the realm, the dancer very much enjoyed the presence of people, and in these circumstances, one’s she could learn much from. she found the culture of others to be fascinating, if not to realize how much she preferred and loved everything about her own, from the music, to the food, to, frankly, the very people themselves.

she wasn’t quite sure how she managed to find herself in the center of a circle that formed, perhaps it was to prove a point, or to simply give in to the pleads of reachmen to grace them with one dance. zahra did not really care either way, she enjoyed any opportunity to showcase her craft.

and so there she was, golden silks of her lehenga flowing about her, like waves within the sea. there was a faraway tune playing, but the sounds of bangles gave way to her own melody within the song. chestnut curls seemed to float about her in their own beat, and in her mind she was transported, as she often found happening when the room around her became nothing more than an assortment of lights and colors. a small grin played at her lips as she made her final spin, hands that were raised up slowly falling back down to her sides as the small audience that had formed gave their applaud.

a familiar figure suddenly approached her, though it did not seem so sudden. she had caught sight of him earlier in the evening, recalling a time that seemed not so long ago when she visited the halls of yronwood. she was young then, and found herself quite absorbed with the handsome lord. much had happened since then, and suddenly that time of her life seemed to be within another century entirely.

“mainne aapakee nigaraanee ke bina kaee jagahon par nrty kiya hai.” (i have danced many places without your watchful eye.) a half-smirk tugged up at the corners of her mouth, her spirited, independent nature somewhat taking over for a moment. “yadi aap chaahen to dekhane ke lie aapako kisee bahaane kee aavashyakata nahin hai.” (you need no excuse to watch if you’d like.) her not returning to the center, however, as another tune began to play gave her answer for her, and the crowd began to disperse.

“it is nice to see you, lord yronwood.”

꙰

“is that what you have been doing all these years? dancing your heart away?” he asked, arms crossing over the breadth of his torso. flighty, as flighty as the golden silk threads upon the skirts of her lehenga which twirled as joyously as the small slip of a smile that crossed over her features. he heard the sounds of her anklets jingling, and for a moment there was something abut her that strangely resembled the features he saw of the princess on a day to day basis. the lord of yronwood merely looked upon her, and there was a hint of a challenge within his own dark orbs: they were devoid of the storm that usually lived within them, swirled and thrived within them. a different type of darkness as he looked upon the half smirk upon her full lips; though he said no words. 

“ek din tum itana ghoomoge ki ruk ​​nahin paoge.“ (one day you’ll spin so much you will be unable to stop.) these dancers all seemed entirely flighty, wishing to find their purpose in their life - looking for something to make them feel alive, whilst walking away from a sense of stability. hedonistic were some, and perhaps that was because they could be.

in recent months this woman had made multiple trips into the fortress of sunspear, directly into the apartments of the princess and the future heir of dorne: dancing lessons, were what he supposed the important business was. in years prior, she was the spoiled, pampered daughter of lord gargalen; dressed in the silks he acquired as a result of his hand in the clothing and textile trade. the bloodroyal took his money seriously, even in his youth: he looked at what trades would be the most beneficial, where would be worth investing his coin. 

“koee bahaana nahin. kisee kaaran ke baare mein kya?“ (not an excuse, but what about a reason?) he remained stood to the side of where she had stood in the middle of a circle that clapped and applauded her; the sight amused him. the sight made him want her. 

it were as though nothing had changed when he looked upon her: to live life weight free, to live life as it was supposed to be lived. he did not envy her. for things that were light were easily swept away. they needed something to hold their weight, something to keep their feet firmly upon the ground: armaan had realised that he was entirely content with his position in life. stepping down from the council in which he only but clash with the prince in all but name, disagree with certain methods: and yet now, dorne was taking the time to heal. finally. “how is your father doing? i have been meaning to reach out to enquire as to the textile trade. whether it has been impacted by movement across the narrow sea.” he asked.

they toyed between their own tongue, and the common tongue. as though what else was spoken between them was to only be understood by them, and those who knew it. 

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?"

dancingshores​:

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

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

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

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

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

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

❂

this had been a day in which she had felt the most like herself in what felt like an eternity: one in which the dornish sun which consumed her burned bight, but did not entirely make her feel as though she had caught fire to herself. her kohl lined orbs flickered up briefly to the sight of her daughter, surrounded by other nobles girls her age: she prayed there would be a close connection that formed between them, so their support would continue in the years she would come to the throne. 

or would they merely flock around her like vultures, waiting for something to given, something to use? “she needs only the best.”

confidence seemed to come over her features at the words of the younger woman; whilst there was much she regretted over the course of her life, the dedication she had put into the skill of dance had never been one of them. the nights of bruised, sore feet were entirely worth it; even over what she thought was the watchful gaze of lady dayne. that gaze had ended up being a judgemental one; what she had not seen through her gaze of rose. there was not a part of her that regretted that; as though her body hardened as a shell, against the views of the outside world. 

“would you take the role on permanently?” she asked, her voice forward. she had heard rumours of how difficult it was get zahra to remained in one spot, traversing the dunes of dorne, the shores, the red mountains. a part of her felt a small sense of envy, to know the woman was as free the kites she used to fly as a girl with her brothers: and myriam was no kite. she felt more like the stone that held it down, a struggling ribbon. “at least whilst you are in sunspear. i hear your feet do not stop moving.”

there was something strong about the way myriam went about trying to get what she wanted. direct, forward, difficult to deny. and she wanted the best for her daughter, the very joy in her world; the sight of her running through hallways was enough to cause her shoulders to lighten, even just slightly. she wished to be here, a present mother; she wanted her leila to be happy. for her night meant night, myriam wanted her leila to know she need not ever wait for the night or the shadows of darkness to be who she truly was. 

“i will have you here, zahra. we can make adjustments, you need not join an official household should you not choose to. i will ensure all is cleared with the guards so you are able to venture in and out the palace, should you choose to remain within your haveli.” the woman had some distance with the dornish court; though she knew not why. “you need only tell me, and i will have it done.”

ADITI RAO HYDARI in Hey Sinamika (2022)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

there was not a room that zahra could walk in and not become acquainted with someone, in this instance, it was many someone's. though she much preferred dorne to any other region of the realm, the dancer very much enjoyed the presence of people, and in these circumstances, one's she could learn much from. she found the culture of others to be fascinating, if not to realize how much she preferred and loved everything about her own, from the music, to the food, to, frankly, the very people themselves.

she wasn't quite sure how she managed to find herself in the center of a circle that formed, perhaps it was to prove a point, or to simply give in to the pleads of reachmen to grace them with one dance. zahra did not really care either way, she enjoyed any opportunity to showcase her craft.

and so there she was, golden silks of her lehenga flowing about her, like waves within the sea. there was a faraway tune playing, but the sounds of bangles gave way to her own melody within the song. chestnut curls seemed to float about her in their own beat, and in her mind she was transported, as she often found happening when the room around her became nothing more than an assortment of lights and colors. a small grin played at her lips as she made her final spin, hands that were raised up slowly falling back down to her sides as the small audience that had formed gave their applaud.

a familiar figure suddenly approached her, though it did not seem so sudden. she had caught sight of him earlier in the evening, recalling a time that seemed not so long ago when she visited the halls of yronwood. she was young then, and found herself quite absorbed with the handsome lord. much had happened since then, and suddenly that time of her life seemed to be within another century entirely.

"mainne aapakee nigaraanee ke bina kaee jagahon par nrty kiya hai." (i have danced many places without your watchful eye.) a half-smirk tugged up at the corners of her mouth, her spirited, independent nature somewhat taking over for a moment. "yadi aap chaahen to dekhane ke lie aapako kisee bahaane kee aavashyakata nahin hai." (you need no excuse to watch if you'd like.) her not returning to the center, however, as another tune began to play gave her answer for her, and the crowd began to disperse.

"it is nice to see you, lord yronwood."

who: @dancingshores​ where: one of highgarden’s many bustling halls, within a night of celebration. there was feasting, dancing, and gambling; he noticed how women from the other courts did not seem to engage in the game, apart from their own. currently, armaan was involved in some sort of game of dice, with lyseni, tyroshi and reachmen. 

it was another hot summer night within the great hall of highgarden, ivy and vines creeping up stained glass and ornate white marble decor; and yet, after an evening of feasting, the surroundings was the last thing on his mind. this card game had gone on for far too long, thanks to a specific member of the party seemingly enjoying the conversation more than the actual game. unaware of the impatience that was only growing upon the table, the man continued to speak of matters across the narrow sea; matters that were not anything of significant importance. 

rather, building styles of villas and pavilions - and as the lord of yronwood put down his final hand, his hand seemed to come down hard upon the table top. almost in a way that caused whatever was on the table to shake.

it shut the representative up at least, or reminded him they were here to play the game, rather than engage in small talk for the sake of trying to get in one’s socialising. his dark orbs, stormy in essence, looked to the large crowd that was dotted around the rest of the room; there was dancing, there was one woman dancing specifically. by the sounds of the anklet, his first impression was to think it was the princess consort - only, it was not her. only someone with an uncanny resemblance to her, a woman he had come across before. she had stayed within yronwood with her lord father some years prior, for a brief amount of time; back when his uncle held the regency and armaan was to turn eighteen within the week. 

of course, she was once someone of far more importance to his friend, the ruling lord of the tor. she had stayed with the jordaynes; he was sure he had seen her during his visits to the tor, time after time.

there was much talk of him retaking yronwood that evening over the dinner, stepping into his father’s shoes that dinner; it was almost ironic now. for who knew what betrayal, bloodshed and butchery would come just a week later; crossbows shot into an empty bed, and he watched. her presence reminded him of a time where things seemed okay, but in reality, were truly not. their eyes met multiple times throughout the course of the night, and when he was finally able to collect his winnings once the game wrapped up, the man did not excuse himself. 

rather, moved his way through the crowd in his black kurta, still adorning traditional dornish attire. his hair longer than he usually kept it. moving his way through the crowd, he knew better than to interrupt her. he would not join her. and so, the bloodroyal just became another figure stood around watching. watching, alongside those andals who looked as though she were a piece of meat to be unwrapped. he was there, silently, as he felt as though he needed to be - she was dornish, she was one of their own. 

there was applause as she finished, in a spiral conclusion. he joined the claps, slowly; still keeping his gaze fixed on her. though in truth, his attention was on the people around them. dancers were not whores, not in dorne; he knew not elsewhere. “kya aapaka kaam khatm ho gaya, ya kya mujhe agale din tak yaheen rukana hoga?” (are you finished, or do i have to wait until tomorrow?) 

Kinda in the mood to be carnally desired and intimately known

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

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.

truth serum "how did you learn what it truly meant to be a bastard?"

"when i realized that i wouldn't be upheld to the constraints of higher society." zahra shrugged, for sure rather liked her life the way it was. "truthfully, as a young girl, it became far more apparent when talks of marriage came for my sister and not for me. it used to bother me, not anymore." perhaps it is why the bastard of salt shore had constructed her life to fit something else entirely, so that way it would be more desirable in her mind than having a title.

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.

armaan (for zahra)

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

@armaans