★

★

lady ruqaiyah dayne’s smile never faltered as she listened to lord tirius rowan’s carefully measured words, her amethyst eyes gleaming with amusement. he was every bit the cautious noble, wary of her charms, yet drawn to them all the same. how delightful, she thought, to be the object of such scrutiny and yet remain untouchable. she basked in his attention, knowing full well the game they played. “oh, my lord rowan,” she began, her voice a soft, lilting melody, “you do flatter me with your attentiveness. it’s rare to find a man who truly listens, who considers every word as if it were a jewel to be appraised.” she let her gaze drift lazily over him, a fleeting glance that conveyed both interest and indifference.

“and yet, for all your careful weighing, i wonder if you truly believe what you say.”

her fingers toyed with the edge of her shawl, the delicate fabric slipping between her fingers like water. “pirates,” she repeated, her tone light, almost teasing. “is that not what they call men who roam too close to foreign shores, taking liberties under the guise of protection? the reach ships, so bold in their approach, appear to many as little more than corsairs, their sails casting long shadows over dornish waters.” she leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “everyone says so, my lord. the court is abuzz with tales of reachmen turned pirates, their intentions as murky as the seas they sail.” her smile widened, a flash of perfect teeth.

“but perhaps you are right. perhaps it is necessity that drives them, a noble cause cloaked in the guise of opportunism. how very… convenient.”

her laughter was soft, like the tinkling of distant bells, her amusement evident but not overt. “and as for what brings me to these waters?” she straightened, her posture regal, her eyes dancing with mischief. “surely, you do not think a lady such as myself would come simply to hurl accusations. no, my lord, i am here for the court, for the intrigue, and perhaps, for a little fun.” she allowed her gaze to linger on him, bold and unflinching. “after all, what is life without a little adventure? without a touch of danger?” her smile softened, though the edge remained. “i enjoy the dance, my lord, the thrill of being desired but never caught. you see, i thrive in the knowledge that no matter how close you get, you shall never touch me.”

she reclined slightly, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her expression serene. “so, let us continue this game, my lord. you may play the cautious knight, and i, the untouchable jewel. but remember,” her eyes sparkled with challenge, “jewels, no matter how fine, are best admired from a distance.” there was a slight spark in her gaze now, one that seemed to dance with trouble. "lest you can admire dawn from anything but a distance. he's quick to anger, my big brother."

Tirius watched her with the same measured intensity he gave to reports of war and shipments of grain. Her every movement was deliberate, designed to draw attention, and while he could admire the artistry of it, he did not allow himself to be swept up in the performance. No, his admiration of beauty was tempered by suspicion—he had learned long ago that the most polished stones often hid sharp edges. One only need look east where his ex-wife lived with their son.

Her praise of Starfall was expected, and he allowed himself a faint smile, though it never reached his eyes. “I’ve no doubt Starfall is as you say, my lady. A jewel of Dorne.” His tone was polite, neutral, though there was a subtle weight in his words, as if testing hers for sincerity. “But jewels, no matter how fine, can only be appreciated by those who know how to value them.”

Her violet eyes met his, bold and unflinching, and he resisted the urge to look away first. It was not in his nature to yield. She spoke of beauty and her brother’s protectiveness, weaving words like silk. She was clever—he could see that now. Not simply the type to turn heads, but the kind to twist minds if one wasn’t careful.

Tirius Rowan was always careful if one ignored his weakness for women.

When she tilted her chin and questioned him, her voice soft, he allowed himself a quiet laugh, low and brief. “Pirates,” he repeated, rolling the word across his tongue as if testing its weight. “I assure you, my lady, the men of the Reach are many things, but pirates? That is an insult better suited to the Stepstones, not to the Northmarch.”

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze unwavering. “We come close to Dorne’s waters for necessity, not indulgence. A trade route must be safeguarded, lest others—not the Reach—take liberties where they shouldn’t. Surely, a lady of Starfall understands the importance of protecting one’s borders.” His words were calm, but there was an edge now, a subtle challenge. “And tell me, my lady, what brings a jewel such as yourself to these waters? Surely it is not simply to call men pirates.”

Tirius would have her.

★

ruqaiyah stood silently beside ravi, her eyes briefly scanning the expanse of the ocean, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore almost drowning out her thoughts. the sun above them beat down relentlessly, reflecting off the water’s surface in flashes of blinding light. for a moment, she wished to turn away from the conversation altogether. it was easier to pretend to be interested in the world outside than to face the intricacies of the conversation inside her head. "you always were one to wear duty like armor," ruqaiyah said quietly, her eyes slipping over to ravi. the subtle tension in his posture—almost imperceptible, yet there—made her wonder how much of this new role he truly wanted.

"we are similar like that, you see." not that it matters, she thought to herself, he doesn’t have a choice.

ruqaiyah’s gaze flicked briefly to the horizon, but she couldn’t focus on the waves this time. every part of her was pulling her attention back to the man standing beside her. he’s avoiding it. it was maddening. her lips tightened as the irritation churned inside her, a simmering heat that made the air around her feel heavier. was this going to be how it was with ravi? it was, wasn’t it? a slow dance around the subject, as though the weight of the betrothal—the reality of it—was something that could be ignored. but it can’t be, she thought bitterly. It can’t be avoided forever.

"you've always been good at deflection," ruqaiyah remarked coolly, her tone sharp despite the calm exterior. Her fingers, which had been lightly tracing the fabric of her dress, suddenly stilled. She turned to face him fully now, the light from the sun catching the delicate curves of her face, but her eyes were narrowed—piercing.

"it’s funny, really," she continued, her voice hiding the desperation that was simmering within it, as she sauntered a few steps closer to him. "you’d think by now someone would have decided when we’d actually get married. seems like that’s something one should plan ahead for, don’t you think?" her eyes flashed up to meet his, watching for his reaction, though she kept her expression perfectly composed—deliberately cold, yet laced with just enough sarcasm to make her point clear. "it’s quite the conundrum, isn’t it?" she continued, her fingers brushing against the sand, drawing invisible shapes in the air, all while keeping her focus on him.

"a betrothal that’s been dragging on for far too long, and yet... no progress. it’s almost as if someone isn’t interested in actually making it official. i wonder who that could be." she was dancing on the edge of something dangerous now, but it was a dance she knew well. ruqaiyah wasn’t blind to the politics of it all—she knew that there were reasons for delay, reasons far beyond their personal relationship. but that didn’t mean she had to like it. and if she could coax ravi into moving, just a little, then perhaps she'd have the answer she needed.

head tilted down, looking upon his feet that were submerged in the ocean, feeling the tide push and pull, almost symbolizing the ebb and flow of duty he were coming to face as the now eldest son of house martell. it were a heavy feeling, and while he knew mors was far from perfect, he could understand how that duty alone might bare down upon ones shoulders. ravi were not ruler, but he knew myriam would value his opinions on matters, and he would do his best to ensure the dorne that was left to his niece was one of strength and prosperity.

a small shrug of his shoulders was part of his response. "as i'm sure in any court. i'll admit, i've never paid much attention. perhaps now i should be better about that." ravi valued the opinions of others on important matters, but gossip? gossip was not something he cared much for. he preferred to form his own thoughts on certain circumstances.

a grin spread wide upon his features. "i promise not to tell him, though if he catches word, you must tell him i did not know." he insisted. he pressed his feet harder upon the sand, the grainy texture grounding him as he inhaled the sea air. "i have heard my sisters speak of it, and their ladies. it's a nice link to the other kingdoms, though perhaps it keeps them confidently put where they are." he jested. hearing the rumors swirling about those to the north of them, the things that would not be looked down upon in dorne, or otherwise the chaos within other courts, certainly might deter them from wanting to venture. ravi, however, was unsure of his thoughts on that.

"i...completely understand that, actually." there was a glimmer of hope, a common ground he found with a woman he had been betrothed to for so long, yet, never directly spoke of it. now that it were looming over them, perhaps he yearned to see what natural relationship might form between them. "though admittedly i prefer my solitude. those...vultures as you say tend to get into my head more than i care for."

at the question of his mother, he gave a simple nod. "she is...doing as well as she can. my sisters have watched closely on her. she seems to be focusing on leila, for now." he sighed, wishing he were of more help. "i imagine she will take the opportunity for those gathered to revel in company." at least, rashid hoped she might. he thought he would see if one of his sister's could put the idea in her mind. "and how is your family? given everything..." he imagined they were still processing a great loss, and he remembered how close ruqaiyah was to safeerah.

★

she knew not what test it was that dictated her choices; her words, actions and thoughts alike that felt as though she needed to live up to something the other sat across from her would not understand or be able to fathom. the concept of living according to an established set of rules, rules she decided did not apply when conversing with others that were not the same as her.

"you admire people who try hard to be different, yes." rules she would set ablaze and burn her own skin to discard of, just to feel the sensation of throwing it to the wind, to the tornado, to the earthquakes.

"some people are just above others." there was a cold glint that came over sparkling orbs at the sound of the laughter that slipped from the woman opposite her. there were many things that caused ruqaiyah dayne to become unpolished: the sparkle to cease, and the roughness around her edges becoming sharp - to feel as though her pride had been wounded was a fatal mistake. "some even have the lowest of low above them."

and in this moment, as she found herself doing the opposite of disassociating, she only fixated on the sound of the laughter; and she wondered if that very same laughter had rung atop the deck of whatever vessel, in whatever bedchamber, at the mere prospect of the words that had been whispered between one another. she felt herself burn even more now, a silent simmer; of shame, and of longing.

there was a tut that came from her when the wine spilled onto the table cloth from lady toland's goblet.

"thankfully, my lord brother discarded of such a stain within our sphere." another instance of house dayne proving themselves to be the most worthy of houses in dorne. the most valiant, and the most dedicated - to themselves, and to duty. she saw a flicker of pain cross over dark features, and she felt a thrill to know she was able to do achieve such an effect. it meant ruqaiyah was not the same woman who fell into the web of such a spider.

it meant she too was poison - why did she want to be poison? and then she felt her stomach twist in a warped irritation. even after all of these years, it was him that could get her to stop. to get something human to cross her features, rather than the colour red.

"and now we move on." she spoke, her words illicit with a double meaning as she reached forward to take another goblet of wine from the centre of the table.

there was an attempt at an insult, and it took everything in devani not to laugh out loud at it. perhaps ruqaiyah had forgotten, in their years parted, that devani cared little for being like everyone else. it was the precise reason she had departed in the first place, so that she could do as she pleased, wear as she pleased, live in exactly the way she wanted to and enjoy every moment of it. she knew little of lady dayne's life since she had left it. had she ever had a moment like that? ever filled her days with something not because she had a duty to it, but purely because she wanted to? devani didn't know.

"all the more reason not to wear dornish fabrics, then," devani waved a hand dismissively. "i've always admired people who take it upon themselves to make their own mind up about these things, rather than paying attention to what everyone else is doing." once she had crossed the rhoyne for the first time, it had hit her how little the life she had left behind mattered. dorne was a small corner of a wider world - one ruqaiyah had never seen. devani could almost pity that.

she couldn't help it this time: when ruqaiyah called her by a name that wasn't hers, devani laughed, and it was genuine, because it was utterly ridiculous. call it arrogance, but she did not believe that ruqaiyah had forgotten her. the more she tried to make it seem as though it was so, the more it felt like a farce. "i don't agree," she raised her shoulders in a shrug."i think people like to believe they have changed. risen above," she rolled her eyes. "but the core of who you are stays the same. there's no changing that."

the reaction from devani at the hint of what had happened to dante uller was not instant. rather, it dawned upon her face slowly, the light in her dimming as her smirk fell, her eyes widened, and she lapsed into silence. she looked like she might be sick. ruqaiyah had aimed for her jugular, and the knife had slid under her skin like butter. devani set her cup down upon the table, so hard that the wine spilled over the edge and stained the cloth that covered it, and she finally tore her gaze away.

in the back of her head there was a phantom cry of pain, and she did not know if it belonged to dante uller, or the boy who had been buried under the filth of king's landing.

it hit her then how calculated the move had been. ruqaiyah had commanded the attention of the others that sat with, made sure all had heard the comment and had their eyes on devani as she reacted. the silence echoed loudly. she had no words for ruqaiyah dayne in that moment. for the first time in almost as long as she could remember, devani was rendered utterly speechless.

★

ruqaiyah leaned back against the stone wall of the balcony, the familiar scent of her cigarette filling the air. the weight of the conversation was heavy, but she was careful to maintain her composure. her eyes, though, were sharp—sharper than they had ever been, especially as she listened to safeerah's words. justice, safeerah said. revenge, she hadn’t said, but it was there, lurking just beneath the surface. ruqaiyah knew that. they both knew it.

"justice," ruqaiyah echoed, her voice lightly tinged with disbelief. "and you think that will ease everything? what exactly are you going to tell the people of dorne, safeerah? that your house took down a man—aditya toland of all people—and that the rest of the world would bow to you for it?" ruqaiyah took another drag, blowing the smoke out slowly, her gaze shifting across the horizon. se was unaware if she sounded dismissive, or scathing.

"you’re too soft for that, you know. there’s no honor in waiting for a tribunal, not when you've got the power to settle things yourself."

her tone was sharp, more than it should have been, but it was the truth to ruqaiyah dayne. they both knew it. it was easy for safeerah to say she wanted justice the right way, but ruqaiyah couldn't help but wonder if that was just a way to cling to some illusion of fairness. in the real world, fairness was often a luxury. it was a commodity to be traded, not a virtue. "yousound just like savita," ruqaiyah continued, her voice lowering slightly. "moping about in all of this. it's not who we are, safeerah. we're stronger than that. wear your power. use it. that's the only thing that matters. a lady of an entire yourself, you lucky thing."

ruqaiyah paused, letting her words sink in. she could see the flash of pain in safeerah's eyes, but she wasn’t sure if it was from her words or from the constant pressure that came with being the leader of the tor now. she hated that it was safeerah’s burden, but someone had to carry it. "you don’t need to be this... soft, safeerah. i know you have it in you to lead. but stop pretending you're only seeking justice. what you want is revenge. and that’s okay. you deserve to be able to come down on it all." ruqaiyah’s gaze flickered to the other side of the balcony, a part of her always alert, always calculating. "and bash can do to aditya toland what he done to dante uller." the landscape stretched out before them, a reminder of just how much power safeerah could wield, if only she'd stop questioning it.

she took another slow drag from her cigarette, eyeing her cousin more closely. "and speaking of things you want, what’s this about love? i still don’t get it. what do you see in a man, safeerah? someone who can make you swoon like that myrish dancer?" ruqaiyah let out a short, sarcastic laugh. "you can’t be serious. you want someone with passion? fine, but you also need someone who understands the world. not some fool who will get you into trouble with his ‘artistic heart.’ artists are living from payment to payment, and are pretty much without income."

she flicked the ash from her cigarette, her face hardening, as if she’d already made her judgment. "you want power. you want security. you want someone who gets it. not some fool who’ll spend all his time serenading you. trust me, i know." ruqaiyah’s eyes darkened, remembering her own situation with ravi. it was an alliance, not love, and she had learned the hard way that it was better that way. "and then there's me," ruqaiyah added with a sharp smile. "i'll find someone for you, once you've handled your little jester problem. a man who knows what it means to rule. someone who'll keep you safe, while you make your mark on the tor." she paused, glancing at safeerah. "just don’t get lost in your fantasies, cousin. the world isn’t that simple."

ruqaiyah’s eyes softened for a moment, the smoke from her cigarette rising and vanishing into the night air. there was so much more she wanted to say, but she kept her thoughts to herself. safeerah needed to think, needed to decide what kind of woman she wanted to be. but in the end, they both knew what needed to be done. "armaan yronwood."

safeerah studied her friend curiously, unsure if ruqaiyah could really have done such a thing if her old flame had showed up at her doorstep, but there was no point in digging. the jordayne knew the other well enough to know that if she wanted her to know something, she'd say it. she did not want to think about devani, about the tolands. the subject only fuelled the unfamiliar anger inside her. but she did note of ruqayiah's words about not trusting devani. yet it was not so simple. ghost hill would remain even after aditya lost his head, the tor, and ghost hill would still share a border. sometimes, often in the darkest hours of the night, she thought about erasing the border altogether. if she was ready for war, she could double her lands in size, remove the threat of the tolands forever. but at what cost? she could not bear the thought of seeing men slaughtered, families broken, all because of her own anger. and there was still the matter of the volantis to be dealt with. she did not plan to let them escape without ensuring justice for rashid either, although that matter was much more complicated. “i will keep it in mind. you know i'd rather not have to trust a toland ever again.” saf could promise her oldest friend that, but she could promise more than that. she had to walk whatever path showed itself.

she had to agree with her cousin. she hated to see her mother hurt, to hear her weep for the son lost, for the daughter traumatised. safeerah remembered the look on her mother's face when she had told her eldest daughter that the future of their house was her responsibility now, that she was sorry she had to carry it. and saf had wept then and begged the gods to send rashid back to them. “because bad people still exist.” their ill fortune had been the direct consequence of the decisions of people who had no love in their hearts. then qaiyah spoke of bash just ending aditya's life, but saf quickly shook her head. “no, i want justice the right way. i want him to be condemned by his peers. i want everyone to hear what kind of man he is.” not just in dorne, but beyond their borders as well. safeerah could claim she was purely after justice, but she also knew deep in her heart that was not true. she said none of this to ruqiayah though, but she seemed to already know that justice and revenge had started to overlap for saf.

a dark cloud had fallen on her as she spoke of the tolands, but she let out a weak laugh, allowing herself to be distracted. “have mercy on them, qaiyah, halima might be worse than the most fearsome guard dog.” she smiled then, her eyes as soft as her words. if there was one thing safeerah knew she did well, it was filling her friend with confidence. perhaps ru had no need for it, but that had never stopped her from doing it before. “why would he want anyone else when he has you? there are none in dorne, or even in westeros, who can outshine you.” the words were easy for her to say, and she did also believe them, but she knew that the heart worked in mysterious ways. even saf was pressed to admit that being with one person for the rest of life seemed a difficult task. she had plenty of love in her heart, more than one person would ever need. she also knew ru's impending wedding was not one of love, it was a deal, an alliance, and that made it easier for either of them to stray.

speaking of marriage, she cast aside the gloom and grinned while she pretended to think about it. “alright, fine, but you better find me someone handsome.” safeerah knew that she'd had to marry soon. she was not against the idea at all. she did crave a partner, an equal, someone to share the burden of ruling the tor with. but she hoped that there was room for love in her marriage, and she also hoped her future husband would accept certain freedoms in their marriage. “do you remember that dancer from myr? with the scar across his eye? someone like him. he had so many talents.” safeerah smirked before letting out a bright laugh. it was no secret among those closest to her that she had taken him to her bed after his performances. he travelled with her to the tor, and extended his stay multiple times, before continuing on his tour. “i want someone who has a passion that drives them, someone who devotes themselves to their call in life.”

★

the ocean stretched endlessly before them, the waves lapping at the shore in a soothing, rhythmic cadence. the late afternoon sun bathed the beach in a golden glow, casting soft shadows on the sand where ruqaiyah and ravi stood. her silken, violet gown moved gently with the breeze, the fine embroidery catching the light like tiny constellations stitched into the fabric. she held herself with her usual poised elegance, though there was a new ease in her manner, as though a weight had shifted.

ruqaiyah’s amethyst eyes sparkled as she regarded ravi, his words still lingering in her mind. we’re going to be married. that much is certain. the certainty of it sent a thrill through her, though she masked it with a coy smile. she had spent years calculating her future, manoeuvring through the expectations and pressures of house dayne. now, with ravi’s assurance, the prize felt tangible, within her grasp. the social standing, the prestige—it was all hers, guaranteed. “so, it’s decided,” she said, her voice carrying a playful lilt as she extended her arm, wrist adorned with delicate bangles that chimed softly in the breeze.

“no more deliberation, no more hesitations. you’ve made your choice, and wisely, might i add.” her smile widened, a flicker of amusement touching her expression. “i suppose that means i can stop pestering you."

her gaze wandered briefly to the ocean, where the horizon stretched endlessly, gilded by the setting sun. the sight calmed her, even as her mind churned with thoughts of what was to come. everyone will see now. the whispers will cease. prince ravi martell does intend to marry ruqaiyah dayne. the thought filled her with a quiet satisfaction, her heart lifting at the victory she had so carefully sought. turning back to ravi, she arched an elegant brow, her tone teasing yet carrying an undercurrent of command. “come, then. escort me back to sunspear. it’s only fitting, don’t you think? after all, it wouldn’t hurt for the court to see us arriving together.” her lips curved into a knowing smile, her arm still extended. “let them whisper about us, about you and me, as they’ve done for years. only now, they’ll know the truth. their prince is a man of his word.”

she waited, unwavering, her posture poised and regal against the backdrop of the shimmering sea. for all her playful words, there was a seriousness in her eyes—a satisfaction in the game she had played and won, and a flicker of hope, though she would never admit it aloud. as ravi stepped closer to take her arm, ruqaiyah allowed herself to relax just slightly, savouring the moment.

the wind tugged at ravi’s loose, desert-toned garment as he shifted his weight, hands clasped behind his back. he studied ruqaiyah for a moment, her words still lingering in the air. the way her tone had softened didn’t escape him, nor did the flicker of something unguarded in her amethyst eyes. it wasn’t often she let her walls down, but ravi wasn’t one to rush when patience might yield something worth knowing.

“lean. i’ll make a note of that,” he replied with a faint smile, his tone light to match her teasing. “i’ll see if the kitchens can manage to prepare something that won’t disrupt your regimen.” he let the lightness hang for a beat before exhaling softly, his voice lowering to something gentler, and yet, still firm. “we’re going to be married. that much is certain. and because of that, i think we owe it to ourselves to see if we can build something more than what’s been planned for us.”

he shifted closer, his voice calm but encouraging. “think about it. every decision we make together will shape our lives, our families, even dorne. if we can find a way to understand each other, to truly work as partners, don’t you think that benefits us both? you’re brilliant, ruqaiyah. i’ve known that since we were children. but brilliance shines brighter when it has someone who values it, who complements it. that’s what I want, for both of us.”

ravi allowed a touch of humor to lighten his words. “besides, you said yourself you don’t despise me. that’s a good start, isn’t it?” he smiled, his princely demeanor softening for a moment. “let’s have dinner. not as a test, or something to dread, but as a chance to talk. to see what we’re capable of together before we stand before the world as husband and wife.”

he spread his arms lightly, an easy grace in the gesture. “and if nothing else, i promise it’ll be lean. I wouldn’t dream of ruining your efforts.” he found them unnecessary, but did not feel the need to voice such a thing. ravi met her gaze, now, his tone both firm and inviting. “tomorrow evening. ;et’s take this step, ruqaiyah. for us. deal?”

10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU 1999 — dir. Gil Junger

★

"the wyl of wyl, with all his mirth and misplaced confidence, continues to be a source of unexpected amusement at his own expense. how exciting." ruqaiyah uttered, her tone laced with a scathing form of sarcasm as she flickered her lilac gaze up and down his frame, as though she wanted him to know she were inspecting every part of him.

and then her expression changed, to one where she seemed to have taken great and obvious offense. "prove? what do i have to prove to the likes of you?" she demanded, her tone rising slightly; almost as though she were in shock and disbelief at such a statement. and perhaps she seemed as though she were swirling her emotions because she wanted him to momentarily wonder if someone would hear him irritating her. upsetting her. "i am, and will be more of, your better. you come into my home and tell me i need to prove myself to be your princess?"

there was false distress in her voice now, her hand resting upon her silverish pink fitted blouse, looking around. as though she were needing someone else to step in.

some people simply did not know how to get what they wanted, or what they needed; they needed an example to set the tone for them. to pave the way, to give some sense of confidence - and she would do just that. "your persistence is lacking. when i sit beside my martell husband in sunspear, you will know. and you will learn how to obtain what one truly wants, from my own example. it would be some benefit to you."

her eyes glinted with a mixture of disdain and amusement. "it is quite the spectacle to witness such ungrounded confidence. after all, being a mere bannerman of armaan yronwood must come with its own unique set of delusions." with this, she were not entirely certain of the knowledge she seemed to be sprouting - but there was no part of her which gave that away. confident face, confident voice - overconfident.

"so what do you do as a bannerman? fetch his chai? i wouldn't know, you see."

Ryon looked at her, a brow raising, "why would their be a celebration for you?" He continued to speak in their shared tongue, amused at her arrogance. Clearly, it was a family trait. They thought more of themselves then they should and with their student and unsurprising rise, to anyone with eyes, their arrogance would only grow.

And then, then she said she would be their princess and that made him laugh. And he made sure he laughed loudly, his bright smile seemingly even bright as he found himself overly amused. Would the Martell Prince truly marry the Dayne sister? Were the Dayne's so politically shrewd while being social inept?

"I've nothing to prove, lady Dayne. Not nearly as much as you who wishes to be a Princess one day." His words were mocking but he said it with the same smile. Wyl's were not known for their friendly disposition, it was what made Ryon stand out againster the reputation of his house, one did not know where his mind was or where it was going. Even when soaked in blood there was the hint of glee in his dark eyes. after all, it was all a great game.

Much liked the sister of House Dayne, Ryon wielded his words and tongue as weapons of their own. When it was time for a Wyl to sheath their blade it was time to fall back on the other tools a man must keep sharp.

"How many more years shall we wait for a great ball for the future princess?"

★

ruqaiyah's smile did not waver, though something within it shifted, like silk catching the light just so, revealing a different texture beneath; it were not one of anger, nor even of the sting of wounded pride, but rather one of feeling as though a blow had come to her stomach. "what, you think it a slight to look at me have a place for myself, and act as though it is not you that is the outlier between us?" as though it were dawn itself which had cut away the corset which seemed to hold her together, stitch by stitch; and ruqaiyah did not know what happened when stars burned. combusted, and yet, she felt it weigh heavily upon her at simple words. "do you understand i would have done anything for you? do you understand what it is you have lost?" the fervent loyalty and dedication of the daynes was a birthright; and somewhere along the years, ruqaiyah found herself thinking herself sworn. devoted. she were no knight, and devani was no princess; and yet, it felt like she should have been. in anoher life, perhaps.

and yet - i'm not talking about you and i, ru. just you - was enough to cause her mind to twist.

it were no revelation: there needed to be no sounds of hymns or mantras, nor the ringing of holy bells, or red powder placed between her brows. there was no moment of being awakened, nor no moment of realisation: for she knew. she had always known, and yet the words of devani toland had been made into something they were not in the mind of the grace of the evening...who held such little grace, in reality. there had never been a devani and ruqaiyah. her fingers brushed idly over the rings on her hand, turning them in place, a gesture of lazy indulgence. but in her mind, she were all but bubbling, spiraling; a concoction of toxic substances, brimming over, and there was no stopping the way it burned her hands too when it spilled.

"you speak of my betrothal as though you know of it. you don't. you speak as though it is me whose parents could not stand my presence, and shipped me between various vassal houses. it was not." she had just said it. whether devani noticed it, was something she was no longer privy to; no longer was she able to tell anything. and it angered her. "you return because this is home, devani. and no matter how far you ran, it was always waiting for you." she folded her arms across her silverish coloured blouse, amethyst encrusted bangles glittering as did the pink jewels in her dark tresses.

"you were never satisfied, always wanting more... everything you made for yourself, and in the end, you just...come back. to do what exactly?" she looked at devani there, her nose slightly twisting in judgement: as if to ask, is that supposed to be something special? was devani toland not always supposed to be more than the cage they had all decided to call home? what ever happened to you? "i do not wish to step away. i wish to watch what will become of you. you will end up hating what has become of your life each passing day, doing something you hate. and you know - i am glad for it." there was no anger in her voice, only the cool, effortless confidence of a woman who had never doubted her place in the world.

ruqaiyah dayne did not need to chase after meaning, after purpose—it had been bestowed upon her from birth, and she had embraced it with open arms. it were abundantly clear that, considering devai could not admit her wrongs and put aside her pride, there would be no way to recover the tense relations between the two women. so what now? would she open her mouth to ruin her chances? would she prove to be an issue for her at court? would she attempt to find her way into ravi's bed in an attempt to get in his ear? her mind started whirring, fixating. hating. craving. how could she just be done with her? how did it not bother her, as much as it made ruqaiyah wish to scream into her pillow? why had she not needed her the way ruqaiyah needed her?

"your destruction impacts none more than yourself. when i find you on your knees, i will find great pleasure in the silence you get from me. only then will i forget you."

devani's laugh was soft this time, warm as summer as untroubled. "you speak of me clinging to things that do not exist, but look at yourself, ru. what has changed for you since we were girls? you are still in the same place you were." there was no mockery in her tone - instead, something that danced closer to pity. devani may not have spent the last fourteen years in dorne, but she had not spent them idle. when age etched lines on her face and her body began to fail her, she could say that her youth was not one wasted. ruqaiyah was of the stars, burning stationary and untouchable in the heavens above, but devani was a comet, burning a fiery trail behind her to remind those whose lives she blazed through of her very existence.

"i don't want to replant them." her words were firm. "i do not want to go back to the way things were before i left, or else i may as well have not left at all." she had never spoken to ruqaiyah, to anybody, about what had drove her decision to disappear, one of the many secrets she kept close to her chest. "your brother will kill mine. i'm banking on that. and when he is dead, ghost hill will look to his heir. he will pay the price for his actions. i'm just here to see what's left when he does."

it was more honesty than she had offered to anybody about her re-emergence. even dante uller had not managed to coax the truth of it from her like this.

"i'm not talking about you and i, ru. just you." because that was another truth that ruqaiyah seemed determined to bury. no matter how hard she tried to reduce devani's place in her life to that of a bedmate of her youth, it did not change any of it. "ravi martell is a good man." she said, finally. "and far sharper than you give him credit for by pretending there is nothing to tell. do you think it will take him long to note that you enjoy his title far more than his presence in your bed? to piece together why that is?"

she paused for a moment, shrugging her shoulders in a way that almost seemed as though she cared not. "because for all your talk, ruqaiyah, you aren't subtle. you're still here, because you don't want to step away."

★

she only theatrically shrugged.

bluntness was a cursed habit of house dayne; all members seemingly having short tongues, their affinity to wrapping it in lace, flowers and silver was what differed from individual to individual - the very opposite of ambiguity, of double meanings, and looking too close into something. it would be a lie to say ruqaiyah dayne was not one to make ambiguous comments in passing with the sole intention of making another feel nervous or insecure about themselves; it was in her early girlhood she realised ambiguity could be a weapon.

"did you ever try to reach out to your childhood friend?" ruqaiyah asked, amethyst hues flickering away from a vivid dark gaze toward the food that was now cold on the plate before her. "perhaps he did not adjust well to your vanishing act."

one she felt now, sitting on the opposite of this damned table, and she found herself doing mental gymnastics attempting to work out what it was devani was truly saying. how she hated it, when she was on the receiving end. hypocritical to her very core; her hand remained beneath her chin as she merely looked upon the woman opposite her with a torn look. one of scathing judgement, as though she were vermin beneath her shoe; and the other side being one rooted in fractured insecurity.

"then again, why would you? that would require you to be able to admit when you've done wrong, and both of us do not have the time to unwind the length of that scroll."

dying for answers of questions she had always buried deep within her for years, though was never able to ask them - for she never had an address of where to write. the letters never came with any confirmation of identity, never came with any inclination of where she could write anything back: even across the narrow sea, devani toland had some control over her ability to open her mouth and say anything.

her gaze narrowed when she mentioned baashir; baashir did not get angry. he was the perfect knight, and he was doing his duty. so he beat a man to a pulp, who gave a shit when the man was a traitor? his life meant nothing anyway. "well, some of us have brothers who actually protect their families. you know baashir, devani - considering you stayed some time with us." to be away from whatever hell hole ghost hill was.

how it had taken time for ruqaiyah to be willing to open her mouth and speak on the truth of who she was: how she was ready to tell devani she would sit both of her parents down and speak the truth to them - that she did not wish to marry, that she did wish to set foot in a sept she did not believe in. that devani toland would not be a secret. and with a gust of wind over sails, that came to a sudden, screeching end. instantly, the rose hue faded to black and white, and the bubble burst: it had all been in her own head.

a foolish, naive girl believing none other compared, that she stood alone. "are you intending on staying, lady toland?"

she wasn't sure why she hadn't anticipated this, why it had taken her so by surprised when the subject of dante was broached. she had been lucky, thus far, that nobody else had approached her so pointedly. conversations about dante had been few and far between, usually accompanied by offers of condolences from them, and assurances from devani that she had no idea what her friend had been up to. that wasn't a lie. dante had kept her in the dark - and she was eternally grateful that he had.

but if devani had forgotten the depths to which ruqaiyah could stoop, she had forgotten how resilient devani could be. was she not the girl who had left dorne with nothing, who had flitted from place to place, building a new life for herself each time? the silence was a sign of her displeasure, but she would not remain quiet.

"i do not know what curse gripped dante uller's heart in my absence," the words were more for the benefit of anybody still listening to the conversation than ruqaiyah, a simple statement that washed her hands of any guilt, and addressed the lady of starfall's words without ambiguity, without shame. devani toland would not be cowed.

"but i mourn the friend i've known since my childhood." and there, she moved back into ambiguity, because those words could apply to dante uller - but they could just as easily be affixed to ruqaiyah dayne, because devani had mourned her, and thought of her, and wanted her. even when she hated her.

"yes, i hear your lord brother's fury was a sight to behold. tell me, does he often lose control of himself like that?" it was a dangerous hand to play, and yet, devani chose to throw that card on the table regardless, a reminder that the daynes of starfall were not as perfect, as infallible, as ruqaiyah was painting them to be. "let us all be thankful that we have our first minister to dispense justice upon the wicked, hmm?" and there, she retreated back into what was safe, a place where nobody could twist her words and paint them as a slight on baashir dayne. they were blessed to have him, a shining star of the dornish court.

devani hated this game.

"i suppose we do," devani's eyes burned as they met ruqaiyah's once more. try again. her lips twisted into a mirthless smirk. "there is nothing sadder than someone who holds on to hate for things they can't control, is there?"

★

he was looking at her; a pair of orbs that were identical to her own, though it felt more like he was able to see right through her. still, her shoulders remained as poised as they always were, and she held his own gaze in a manner that was confrontational, but curious; how she had been taught she needed to deal with her oldest brother and his peculiar ways. "you are staring at me." she commented, her tone still trying to sound casual; she felt far from it though, for she knew he must have spotted her.

"why?" women all across dorne smoked, and yet, ruqaiyah of house dayne was expected to maintain some level of perfection the others did not. what if they were already perfect, even in their skewered choices?

she was the one who broke the gaze first, extending her bangled arms forward to push the plates toward the ruling lord of the house - there was much about the siblings that mirrored one another, but there was also much of ruqaiyah that mirrored her mother. she had noted that the best way to gain the approval of her mother over the years was to simply replicate her; and suddenly she was no longer pretending. "i was a girl when i made you promise such a thing, bhaiya." she spoke, her voice softer than it had been.

she had no issue with pushing the plates toward her brother, doting on her brother; because he understood the weight of perfection too. so she would play her role, considering he played his too. they were a perfect dollhouse, in perfect line up - and none would see the cracks if they were not on the other side of the mirror. "you need not do such things now. you can let things go, you know?" she commented, directing for the servant to keep the jug on the table - she would refill his cup herself.

"it was my candle." the words came so casually from her lips, and yet, his next words caused her to look up from the goblet she was refilling. she almost allowed the wine to spill over in the rush of excitement; how long she had been waiting for him to agree. she had wished and thought of court often: so many spoke of sunspear, and now it was her time to see it for herself.

"what do you have to get in order? i've done it all for you." did that mean her own marriage would be happening soon? "you told me i could find you a bride before i marry." she reminded; had he? she was not entirely sure that was what he meant by his words; she was not entirely sure he had said anything like that. he had not. "has the prince asked of me? is that why?" a slight break in her formal nature, she seemed to shoot out question after question, not letting him reply.

Bash looked at his sister, he often worried about the way she did things. They were too much alike depending upon who was asked about the comparison. In some ways he knew it was perfect. His sister kept things afloat, some would assume he left his mother in charge but he did not. His sister was his heir and as such she was left to run Starfall and every report was correct, there were no complaints. She ran things the way she was meant to run them. And Baashir was proud of her but he had to wonder how much of her activities were as they were because of him. Such as this smell of smoke. And, of course, the orange glow from her balcony.

"You probably don't remember this, sister." Baashir smiled at her, nodding in thanks to servant who came in with the plate of cheese and dried meat, a similar nod going to the person who brought in a bowl of fruit floating in a bowl of cream which brought a true smile to his face. He grabbed a spoon and then looked up again.

"Whenever I would leave I always promised that I would come home by your window so you may be there when I return. Every time I look towards your window. And even though you had no idea I was coming home, I looked." He took a bite, raised the bowl and took a drink of the sweet milk then sat it back down. "And suddenly I saw this orange glow."

Bash shrugged a shoulder, "perhaps it was a candle. It is dark." He reached over and grabbed one of the pieces of beard and took a bite from the side as he always did. As soon as he started to eat he knew he would be here for quite some time. It made his mother happy to feed him and he was always happy to eat. Especially after leaving a place where he thought the food was shit. Too much venison and pork.

"I'll be here while I get some things in order. And while you get you r things together. It's time for you to come to court, sister."