Myriam 003 - Blog Posts

zahra watched myriam quietly for a moment, her dark eyes thoughtful, like she was piecing together the stars to make sense of the chaos swirling in her friend’s heart. her thoughts drifted back to those long hours of labor, to the way myriam had looked at her then—vulnerable but strong, fragile yet fierce. it had been a moment of pure trust, the kind of trust zahra did not take lightly. the firelight danced across her face as she finally spoke, her voice soft but sure.

“you’re not being too much, myriam. you’ve given life—endured more than most men could fathom—and now you’re feeling everything all at once. that’s not too much; that’s being alive.” she shifted closer, her hand brushing lightly over inaaya’s tiny foot, marveling for a moment at the miracle of her. “it’s easy to feel like the world is too loud, too close, when you’re carrying this much in your heart.”

her gaze lifted to myriam’s, unblinking and steady. “but this feeling—this ache? it’s not wrong. you just want what anyone would: to have the person you love beside you when you needed him most. you’re valid in that. it’s a heavy thing to do alone.”

she hesitated, the silence filling with the crackle of fire and inaaya’s soft breaths. when she spoke again, her tone held a thread of sadness. “but maybe... baashir thought he was doing what was right. maybe he stayed because he thought he was protecting you both. men like him—men like your husband—they think strength is about swords and shields, about fighting battles to keep their loved ones safe. they forget the battles we fight here, alone.”

zahra leaned forward slightly, her gaze piercing but kind. “you’re not broken for wanting him here. and he’s not unforgivable for failing to be. but ask yourself, myriam—when has a great man ever stayed still long enough to truly understand what’s in front of him?”

her hand lingered on myriam’s shoulder, a steadying touch. “you’re strong. and you’re not alone. let him see that when he returns. let him realize what he’s missed... and what he still has.”

❂

the room felt oppressive, though it wasn’t the size—it was the sheer presence of others. the dayne attendants moved quietly, their whispers blending with the crackle of the fire, but to myriam, every sound grated. she couldn’t place why their closeness irked her so, why her skin prickled at their nearness, but the feeling refused to dissipate. "no point telling them to leave, they'll come back." she uttered, her tone dismissive; she were sure at one point during her labour her mother in law had entered the apartments, no doubt wishing to put her directions in order to the midwives and look over what was happening.

myriam had been on all fours at the time, and had screamed for her to get out; the shock of her presence momentarily distracting her the most painful of pressures, which felt like her lower back was snapping. "thank you for getting her out."

she tightened her hold on inaaya, the soft weight of her daughter the only thing keeping her grounded. “it’s strange,” she began softly, her voice barely rising above the hearth’s murmurs, “to hold life in your arms and feel like your own is slipping through your fingers.” her gaze lingered on the baby, her tiny fist curled against myriam’s chest; this was her and baashir's baby. they had a baby. the whole idea of it still felt incredibly foreign and strange as she looked down at the round baby nestled against her chest, wrapped in blankets.

“i thought when she came, it would all make sense. that i’d finally understand my place. instead…” she exhaled, her shoulders sagging, “it just doesn't feel right...not her. it's not her.” inaaya stirred, her tiny mouth working instinctively, and myriam adjusted her position, ensuring the baby remained latched; the movement was so natural, leaning forward to inhale her unique smell. the sensation was grounding, though it did little to dull the ache that lingered in her body, a constant reminder of what she’d endured. “and he wasn’t here,” she said, the bitterness in her tone sharper now. “baashir. he should’ve been here.” her fingers brushed over inaaya’s delicate hair, her touch trembling as she allowed zahra to softly trace her own hand over her baby's small feet. "that's why i'm upset isn't it? it's got my head so fucked."

“i know there’s a war. i know there are men who can’t be spared. but he knew, zahra. he knew when my time was nearing; they had told him in advance and he knew how long it would take to come home. she wasn't early.” her voice wavered, but she pressed on, feeling herself falling back into that spiral again. “what if i’d died? what if she had? would he have mourned us from the battlefield, too late to even say goodbye?” the thought coiled tight in her chest, threatening to choke her. did he even know what he’s missed? those first moments… they’re now gone, and he’ll never have them. he'd never have heard his daughter's first cry, and for all the way myriam thought she would understand, the feeling of abandonment crept in each time she turned her head to see her bedside empty.

aside of course, from the voice of the stars, the one who listened and danced with them; her starlight.

"he could have come back. the others would have continued, one man missing from the front lines won't decide the fate of the war." a tear welled in her eye, and she blinked it away before it could fall; allowing the thickness of her hair to momentarily hide her face as she remained as still as possible, trying not to disrupt her daughter. another daughter; it made her heart glow, it made her wish to kneel down and thank the mother endlessly for the blessings. “you make it bearable, you know,” she murmured, her gaze flicking to zahra before dropping again. “even when i don’t say it. even when i’m too caught up in my own chaos to see straight.” she leaned closer, resting her head against zahra’s shoulder for a fleeting moment. “i just… i thought he’d be here for me.” she closed her eyes, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on her.

“but i suppose i should’ve known better. baashir belongs to the fucking battlefield, not to me. the sword of the morning.” a slight laugh slipped from her lips as she looked at zahra, as though she were trying to laugh off the situation. even if she had torn apart her entire world for him. the fire crackled softly, filling the space between her words. "tell me, okay?" inaaya’s tiny breaths were a steady rhythm, a fragile constant in a world that felt anything but steady. "am i being too much?" she asked, desperate for some sense of honesty from her friend. to reawaken her, if needed. was she being too clingy? why was she being like this?

zahra’s gaze lingered on myriam as she spoke, her voice raw, her vulnerability laid bare in the flickering firelight. the weight of her words hung in the room like a heavy curtain, but zahra let the silence settle before speaking. she leaned forward slightly, her hands clasped loosely in her lap, the calm she projected at odds with the churn of emotions beneath the surface.

“you’ve been through more than anyone should, myri,” she said softly, her voice as gentle as a lullaby. “you’ve carried so much on your shoulders, and you’re still standing. that alone is a testament to your strength.” she reached out, her fingers brushing against myriam’s arm in a gesture that was steadying but unobtrusive. “but you don’t have to do it alone. no one expects you to have all the answers, not even the stars are always clear.”

her eyes shifted to the baby nestled in myriam’s arms. “inaaya is proof of something bigger than court politics or strategies. she and leila are reminders of why we endure all this—the alliances, the games, the endless calculations. it’s for the world we want them to live in. and you are shaping that world, even if it feels like chaos now.”

zahra paused, her gaze returning to myriam’s face. “as for the volantene woman,” she said, her tone measured, “she’s a risk, yes, but sometimes risks are necessary. you’re right—she could be a thread that leads to something greater. and if you want, i’ll help you untangle her. i’ll speak with her, test her motives, and see what she might offer. together, we can make sure she doesn’t become a threat.” her heart pattered rapidly in her chest, but she would place herself in such a position for myriam's sake.

the fire crackled softly behind them, its warmth filling the space between zahra’s words. “but for now, myri,” Zahra continued, her voice dropping to a near whisper, “take a moment. just breathe. the weight will still be here tomorrow, but tonight, inaaya needs her mother to hold her, and you need to let yourself rest. let me carry some of this with you. you don’t have to trust everyone—but you can trust me.”

her smile was small, but it held a quiet determination.

❂

myriam tightened her hold on inaaya, her fingers brushing over the baby’s soft hair as zahra’s words sank in. the fire crackled in the hearth, casting wavering shadows over the room, and for a moment, myriam let herself get lost in their dance. she didn’t respond immediately, her thoughts pulling her in a dozen different directions. "of my making," she echoed finally, her voice quiet, almost brittle. “i’ve heard those words before. from baashir, from courtiers, even from myself when i’ve tried to convince myself i belong here.” she shook her head, a bitter laugh slipping out.

“but what kind of world am i shaping when i don’t even know where my fucking footing is?”

her gaze dropped to inaaya, the baby’s soft breathing a steady rhythm in her arms. “i sit in that hall, i listen to them speak of dorne like i understand every nuance, every geographic position, all talk defence, every alliance that spans back generations. but i don’t. and they know it.” her thoughts churned, dragging her back to the endless days spent listening to debates that seemed both urgent and incomprehensible. and how she tried to keep up, but she simply could not.

“i rely too much on others—on baashir, on the courtiers, even on you. it is shameful, for a leader. we spoke of mors being weak, and now what?" she rested her hand upon her forehead, momentarily resting upon it; but in reality she briefly leaned her head downward to avoid continued eye contact with zahra, knowing it would somehow bring her to floods of tears. the exhaustion, the bleeding from between her thighs, and the sense of feeling utterly alone. "i'd give it all to ravi, if that was enough...but i trust none with my daughter. i trust none." she repeated, her voice becoming all but strained as she shifted in her bed.

all because she had a single conversation with the dragon king, that ended in madness. it were all but spit in her face. the firelight caught the edge of a tear as it welled in her eye, but she blinked it away, forcing herself to steady. “i don’t know how to be what they expect of me."

she looked up at zahra, her expression raw and unguarded in a way she rarely let herself show. there was not a single crumb of confidence or sultriness, but rather for a split moment, it appeared as though a girl freshly turned eight and ten held a baby to her chest. “and now there’s this volantene woman. dangerous, you said. poison wrapped in silk. it sounds like the kind of game i should be able to play, doesn’t it?” she let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. “i've got a feeling about her. i don't know what, but....i think she's a start. even if that start goes no place, i'll obtain connections and names from her. doran uller can do it.” her mind began to move quickly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

❂

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

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

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

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

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

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

the dancer of salt shore sat with her back to the fire, her silhouette outlined in gold as she met her friend's gaze. she could feel the weight of the unspoken stretching between them, as tangible as the heat on her skin. myriam’s words hung in the air, sharp and deliberate, cutting through the quiet like a blade. she hadn't expected the evening to bring the weight of such a conversation, but looking at the babe sleeping soundly in the other's arms, she knew why myriam's heart pulled her towards a solution, towards peace.

zahra took a slow breath, her fingers brushing idly against the fabric of her tunic. “you’re right,” she said, her voice calm but threaded with something heavier. “volantis is a labyrinth of power plays and hidden motives. the wrong move could cost us more than we can afford.” she leaned forward slightly, her eyes reflecting the firelight. “but the right one… that could change everything.”

she leaned forward now, resting her elbows on her knees, her fingers loosely intertwined. the volantene woman—their mother—was a risk zahra couldn’t fully calculate. she had seen firsthand how that woman moved through the tangled web of politics, manipulating the threads to her advantage. bringing her into this could open doors, yes, but it could also pull them into her orbit, where trust was currency and loyalty a fleeting thing.

but myriam wouldn’t let this go. zahra knew her well enough to see the resolve beneath the questions, the quiet determination in the set of her jaw. if zahra tried to divert her, it would only deepen the cracks forming between them.

after a brief moment, she sighed, her eyes flickering back to the fire. "if memory serves me right, she seemed to be a favored paramour amongst them,” she said finally, her voice low but steady. “she sees more than most, and she knows how to use it. people like her… they deal in power, not kindness. if we involve her, we have to be prepared for the cost.”

her hands tightened slightly as she glanced at myriam. “but clarity is something we can’t afford to ignore. i’ll get her name,” zahra said, her tone carefully neutral. the fire popped again, sending a small burst of sparks into the air. zahra leaned back slightly, her face shadowed. not every door that opens should be walked through. the words formed in her mouth, but never made a sound, only uttered in her mind as the babe began to stir again. zahra used the moment to redirect the conversation, a hand reaching towards inaaya, fingertips gently brushing her hair.

"you did so well, myri-jaan. she's so beautiful." she looked up at her friend, now, her didi. "we'll find peace again, for her. for leila."

❂

the firelight danced across the polished floor, reflecting faintly in myriam’s wine-dark eyes as she listened to zahra speak. the comet burned in her mind, as vivid as it was in the sky, a reminder of both possibility and peril. a sign of change, she thought, her lips pressed into a thin line. but change for whom? and at what cost? zahra’s voice was steady, measured, but myriam could feel the tension threading beneath her words. there was something unspoken there, a careful avoidance that pricked at myriam’s senses. she had known zahra long enough to read her silences as well as her speech, and tonight they spoke louder than the fire between them.

or was she overthinking it? was she overthinking everything? did she just wish to appear as though she understood something of the greater political sphere?

“volantis is always complicated,” myriam said finally, her voice low but sharp, like the edge of a blade hidden in silk. “their alliances are as tangled as their politics, and their promises as slippery as sand through fingers. but you’re right. we cannot act rashly, not with so much at stake. our people are defending our order...perhaps even pushing into it.” she briefly remembered the conversation she and ryon wyl had so many months ago, where he had showed her a map. nightsong, had been circled. he wanted it.

“that volantene woman, the one with the bright eyes.” myriam repeated, glancing toward zahra, her expression thoughtful. “she was sharp, wasn’t she? shrewd. i remember thinking she could see through a person with just one look.” a faint smile ghosted across her lips, tinged with something darker. “but you’re right—people like her always have their own agendas. if we approach her, we do so carefully. no promises, no commitments.”

can she even be trusted? the question lingered in her mind like a stone in her gut. the volantene woman might have information they needed—routes, connections, whispers of plans across the sea—but myriam knew better than to believe help would come without a price. her fingers tightened slightly on the chair. “still… she may offer us clarity. even if not her help.”

but even as she spoke, myriam couldn’t shake the feeling that zahra knew more than she was saying. there was a distance in her friend tonight, a shadow of something hidden. what are you not telling me, zahra? the thought came unbidden, but myriam pushed it aside. there were already too many secrets between them—and too little trust to uncover them now. "can you get me her name?"

the fire crackled softly, its glow mingling with the cold light spilling through the window. zahra stood by the glass, her silhouette framed against the night sky. her eyes were fixed on the comet, its long, pale tail cutting through the darkness like a wound in the heavens. it should have been a sign of hope, a beacon. but to zahra, as much as she resisted the thought for one that was a good omen, it also felt like a warning, its silent passage stirring unease in her chest. it made her wonder is signs like these brought upon different answers: for myriam she prayed it was a sign of the change she desired to create, but for zahra, she wondered if it was a sign of change that she feared from a secret yet unknown.

“volantis is complicated,” zahra began, her voice steady but measured. she unfolded her arms and stepped closer, her movements deliberate. “you’re right to be cautious. the last thing we want is to sow chaos where we mean to bring change.” she knelt by myriam’s side, her eyes finally meeting her friend’s. “but speaking to the right people could guide us. carefully. thoughtfully.”

when Myriam mentioned the volantese woman, zahra’s pulse quickened. our mother. the words echoed in her mind, heavy and intrusive. she tried not to think of that meeting, had pushed it down where secrets could breathe but not speak. her mother’s face flashed in her memory—sharp, calculating, but with a tenderness that lingered in her smile. zahra masked her hesitation with a slow, thoughtful nod. “that woman…” she began, her voice even but her thoughts racing.

zahra shifted, buying herself a moment. “yes, i remember her too. she seemed… well-connected. maybe she could help.” The words felt like stepping onto thin ice. “but we’d have to tread carefully. people in her position often have their own agendas.” and hers? even I’m not sure.

she placed a hand on myriam’s arm, grounding herself in the present. “i can try to reach out, see if she’s willing to meet. but…” zahra’s gaze flickered toward the fire, the weight of unspoken truths pressing against her ribs. “we need to be ready for whatever her intentions might be. allies can come from the unlikeliest places, but trust…” her voice softened, almost breaking. “that’s harder to earn.”

❂

myriam listened to zahra, her friend's words cutting through the haze of her doubts. the shadows of the room seemed to deepen, creating an intimate cocoon around them. she gazed down at inaaya, the baby’s tiny fingers still curled around her own. a small sigh escaped her lips. “speaking to the merchants sounds like a smart move,” she began, her voice tired but thoughtful. “but what if by doing that, i’m stirring up internal issue in volantis? it’s not even our realm. i don’t want to ignite more conflict or cause harm in a place we don’t control."

she gently rocked inaaya, the baby’s warmth providing a small measure of comfort. “it’s just... i want to believe there’s a way to make a difference without compromising who we are. it’s hard to see how when everything is so tangled.” her eyes met zahra’s, searching for reassurance. “the comet... i want to trust it means something good, but it feels like just another issue, zahra.”

drawing a deep breath, myriam tried to push away the lingering doubts. “do you have any connections in volantis?” she asked, her tone suddenly curious. “i remember seeing you speak to that lady once. can we start there? maybe she can point us toward the right people.” the thought of reaching out to someone specific gave her a sliver of hope, even if it was a tentative one.

the flickering firelight danced across the room, casting fleeting shadows on the walls. myriam held her baby close, drawing strength from the tiny life in her arms. “i don’t want to betray our legacy or our values. but we need to find allies who believe as we do, who see slavery for what it is.” she paused, feeling the weight of her words. she looked at zahra, gratitude and determination mingling in her gaze. “thank you for being here, for helping me see things a bit clearer. even if the path isn’t obvious yet.” the room’s quiet settled around them, the bond between friends a small but steady beacon in the uncertain night.

zahra sat across from myriam, the shadows of the room weaving around them, but she could feel the weight of her friend’s words pressing on her. she could hear the conflict in myriam’s voice, see it in the tight set of her shoulders as she cradled inaaya close, the baby’s tiny hand still curled around her finger. zahra understood the weight of that burden—had carried something similar herself. but there was something else now, something she could not ignore. she had known myriam for years, and this was different. this wasn’t just about power or strategy; this was about the core of who they were.

the seer's gaze lingered on myriam, her mind working swiftly. “perhaps if you want to find those in volantis who oppose slavery,” she said thoughtfully, “start with the trade guilds. the merchants, the people who don’t rely on slaves for their wealth—many of them resent the practice, seeing it as outdated and inefficient. if you can find a way to speak with those who hold influence in those circles, you might uncover allies who share our values."

zahra leaned back in her chair, folding her hands in her lap. the moonlight on the walls seemed to deepen the shadows, lending an air of intimacy to the quiet room. her eyes glanced briefly toward the window where the comet’s faint light bathed the night, a reminder of the uncertainty they all faced.

she glanced at myriam, her heart aching for her friend’s inner turmoil. “you are not betraying your legacy by seeking peace, not if that peace protects your people. you’ll find a way to balance it, like you always have. I believe that.”

zahra stood and moved to the window, her silhouette framed against the starry night, her eyes flicking up to the comet that myriam had spoken of. "the comet," she murmured, "it’s an omen, yes. but not a bad one. don’t mistake the sign of change for one of destruction. trust that it means something new is coming—something that may not be clear yet, but it’s coming. it doesn’t mock you, myri jaan. it’s just… a sign that things are never as they seem."

turning back, she met her friend’s gaze once more, her expression resolute, yet gentle. “you are not alone in this struggle. and sometimes, it’s okay not to trust your heart fully… as long as you trust those around you, those of us who see your heart from the outside looking in."

❂

myriam listened to zahra's words, a mix of comfort and frustration gnawing at her. the room was dimly lit, moonlight spilling through the open window and casting soft shadows. the air was cool, carrying the faint scent of night-blooming flowers from the gardens outside.

"i know you're right," she said, her voice steady despite her inner turmoil. "it's just… it's hard to see the bigger picture when everything feels like it's crashing down around me. we are currently at war...i've brought us to war." she looked down at inaaya, the baby's tiny hand grasping her finger.

"i don't want my daughters to grow up thinking that we have to compromise our morals to survive. we were supposed to be better than slaver states. how are we? is there no other way?"

the room felt smaller with each passing second, the weight of responsibility pressing down on her. myriam glanced at zahra, hoping for reassurance in her friend’s eyes. "do all volantenes agree with the practice of slavery? is there really no one there who sees it for the horror it is?" the alliance with volantis gnawed at her conscience, the thought of aligning with a state that endorsed slavery a bitter pill to swallow. "how can we support them when they stand for everything we’re supposed to stand against?"

her gaze drifted to the intricate tapestries on the walls, each thread telling a story of dorne’s rich history. she felt a pang of guilt, wondering if she was betraying that legacy by allying with volantis. "i just need to find a way that doesn't force us to betray who we are." she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

the room’s quiet was punctuated only by the crackling of the fireplace, the warmth a stark contrast to the cold uncertainty that gripped her heart. looking out the window at the comet, myriam silently vowed to keep searching for that elusive path, hoping that one day she would find it. she kissed inaaya’s forehead, drawing strength from the tiny life in her arms, determined to be the leader her daughters needed her to be.

her eyes wandered to the comet outside, its purple glow still visible in the night sky. it seemed to mock her uncertainty, a cosmic reminder of the changes she couldn't control. "i'm trying to believe in your comet, to trust that it means something good. but right now, it just feels like another bad sign. what is it you call it? an omen? you say people trust my heart...but i don't even trust it."

zahra leaned back against the stone wall, her long, dark braid spilling over her shoulder as she watched myriam cradle inaaya, her heart soaring at the sight, a mother who would split herself in two for the love of their child. the moonlight spilled softly through the open window, casting faint shadows across the room, but zahra's eyes were drawn to the purple comet hanging in the sky, a reminder that fate was never quite as distant as one might hope.

she exhaled slowly, her gaze steady as myriam voiced her worries. zahra had always been attuned to the undercurrents of the people—whether they were in the courtyards of the palaces or in the markets, their whispers always carried truths untold. the comet, the stirrings of marriage proposals, the alliance with volantis—it was all too much. too fast. too heavy.

"you are not drowning, myri," zahra said softly, her voice soothing despite the weight of the truth in it. "but you are being pulled under by the current. that’s the weight of leadership. it will try to drown you, to break you, but you will always rise again. you’ve done it before." a gentle hand went to touch the other's arm, a gesture to know that zahra would be there to see her through it, too.

she watched myriam as she rocked inaaya gently, her eyes filled with that familiar sorrow—the kind that came with decisions not of her making. “as for the comet… it brings change, yes, but we are not strangers to change. It is the nature of things.”

at the mention of Volantis and slavery, zahra’s face tightened for a moment. “the people," she repeatedly softly, her voice steady, “they speak of necessity. they do not like volantis or lys—no one truly does. but many see these alliances as the price for survival. they want peace, they want prosperity, and they believe the cost is small compared to what we might lose without them.”

eyes drifted out of the window again. "perhaps the comet is a sign, myri, a sign that change must be had. it is scary, but they will follow you." she looked to her friend now, her sister, "many trust you and your heart, and that is your power."

who: @dancingshores when and where: flashback to the hours after inaaya's birth, in starfall.

myriam sat up in bed, cradling inaaya in her arms. the purple comet had left an eerie glow in the night sky, and she couldn’t shake the feeling of unease it brought. “can you believe it? a comet...like giving birth wasn’t dramatic enough,” she muttered, glancing at her friend. it wasn’t just the comet or giving birth without baashir; it was everything.

the responsibility of being regent, the constant whispering about her remarriage, and the thought of volantis and their practices weighed heavily on her mind. seeing them leave did not bring her relief; for they would continue engaging with them.

“...i feel like i’m drowning in all this,” she admitted for the first time, her eyes fixed on inaaya’s peaceful face as she smoothened over the tuff of jet black hair. “i’m supposed to lead dorne, but..." she trailed off, not knowing how to finish her sentence. finish her words. also because she still felt a sharp, aching pain pain and felt herself bleeding, as she knew she would continue to do. she did not even feel as though she could enjoy the moment of having a new baby. not with all the stress.

“how the fuck can we ally with a place that supports slavery? it makes my skin crawl. how are we any different to them?” she looked back at zahra, searching for some sort of reassurance; uncharacteristically teary. by them, she meant new valyria.

she could feel the weight of her responsibilities pressing down even more. she knew she had to be strong, not just for herself, but for her daughters and for dorne. but for now, in the quiet of the night, she allowed herself a moment of doubt, hoping that tomorrow would bring some clarity. "they're too powerful an ally to lose but i just...i feel fake continuing to entertain it. the lyseni too."

"what are the people saying of it? be honest with me."