Only Ru Can Irritate Ravi Sksk - Blog Posts

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ruqaiyah crossed her arms, her irritation barely masked behind a tight, sharp smile. she tilted her head slightly, her dark amethyst eyes locking onto ravi’s. “dinner?” she repeated, the word rolling off her tongue with measured skepticism. “how... quaint.” her tone was light, but her words carried an edge, as though she were deciding whether to laugh or lash out. but she could not lash out, for then there was no denying the fact that she would probably end up pushing him away; and then she would truly lose her opportunity to be princess of dorne.

it was all she wanted in the world, something she had envisioned and pictured since she were a girl. her royal wedding, and the lavish jewels that would adorn her.

she stepped forward, closing the small space between them. the sun caught the soft sheen of her hair, and she gestured vaguely toward the horizon, her fingers adorned with delicate rings that glinted in the light. “it’s charming, really,” she began, her voice laced with a thin veneer of politeness, “that you think a dinner can mend this... limbo. our families need to have a discussion, really.” her lips curved into a smile, but there was no warmth in it. or was it not the families, but him specifically? did he truly think someone else was worthy enough to be a princess?

“let’s have dinner. you never know, maybe over food, you’ll finally say something definitive. like a date.”

the wind tugged at the folds of her flowing dress, but she remained perfectly still, her posture taut with restrained annoyance as her hair billowed around her. “you know, i do need to be married, ravi,” she said bluntly, her voice steady but tinged with exasperation. “i don’t have the luxury of sitting here, waiting for you to make up your mind. if this isn’t what you want, all you have to do is say so. tell my family. tell me. i won’t crumble. i’ll look elsewhere. believe me, there are others who have asked.” she turned away briefly, letting her gaze drift to the ocean. the waves shimmered like molten gold under the sun, but the sight did little to soothe her.

she had probably said too much, but she also thought herself to be entirely correct. “you talk about deflection like it’s some noble art,” she continued, her voice quieter now, though no less sharp. “but all it’s done is make me feel like an afterthought, your highness. and i am not an afterthought.”

the waves crashed softly against the shore as ravi kept his gaze fixed on the horizon, the rhythmic ebb and flow of the ocean a mirror to the thoughts tugging at his mind. ruqaiyah’s words hung in the air between them, sharp and unrelenting. he could feel her eyes on him, could sense the weight of her irritation, but still, he hesitated. the sun bore down on them both, its warmth a stark contrast to the tension brewing between them.

for a long moment, the prince of sunspear said nothing. his hands rested loosely at his sides, fingers curling slightly as if searching for something to hold onto. finally, he spoke, his voice quiet but steady. “you’re not wrong,” he admitted, his tone thoughtful. “deflection is... easier. at least, it’s easier than facing something I might not have all the answers to.”

he turned to face her then, the sunlight catching the faint hints of weariness etched into his features. his expression was calm, but his dark eyes held a sincerity that was hard to ignore. “but that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about it, ru. about us. about what happens next.”

he couldn’t blame her, not really. years of silence, the undefined nature of their betrothal—it was enough to fray anyone’s patience. yet ravi wasn’t sure how to address it directly. instead, he focused on what he could do: ease the discomfort, find a path forward, and, perhaps, make her feel less like an afterthought.

ravi’s hands rested at his sides. “would you join me for dinner tomorrow? just the two of us,” he suggested, his voice steady but gentle. “no courtiers, no politics—just a chance for us to speak. about this, about us, and where we go from here.” his gaze softened as he met hers, though the tension in her shoulders told him she wasn’t ready to let the matter rest. “i don’t think anyone has been fair to you in this,” he continued, “least of all me. you deserve more than uncertainty. more than silence.”

it wasn’t a perfect solution, but it was a beginning. a step toward understanding, toward making things right. and if it could bring even the faintest glimmer of peace to the frustration he sensed in her, it would be worth it.