the people's princess.

He would not mourn Mors Martell. Baashir Dayne had low opinions of the man and while he had no desire to list out everything he took umbrage at regarding their late Prince. The man left them an heiress and it was all that mattered. Dorne needed to have one from the line of Nymeria to sit atop their throne. The little Princess would miss her father, of course she would, Baashir would use his place and position to ensure her grief would one day be useful to her, make her stronger. As was the case with grief.

"Princess." Not Myriam and not the little one, little Leila. Loreza Martell, wife of his closest friend, the sister of the late Prince and aunt to their future ruling Princess. "I've come to meet you and speak with you about everything that has happened. How are you doing with the tragedy that has befallen your great house? I'm sure the pain you feel is great."

While face remained still, his expression steady as he looked around them and then back at her. They would have to see her around court more often, often as possible. With the death of the Old prince and then the new there would be unrest, mistrust and a sense of uneasiness.

"my lord," loreza still greets him with as much warmth as she can manage in that moment. it isn't much, but it will have to do. and besides, he will understand that she is not fully herself at the moment. "thank you for meeting with me, and i appreciate your condolences. i am.. fairing as well as you can imagine," she tries to smile, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes.

there was an unsteady silence in the room, of which the curtains had been drawn; the high commander of dorne remained stood by the door, awaiting for the presence of the other prince and princesses of house martell to cross the threshold and find their household changed forever, they were to be told prior to entering these rooms, for they needed to prepare themselves: this was nothing that was to be a surprise, or a shock. and so, in the minutes that ticked by as she waited for someone, anyone else, to cross into the threshold of the chambers, myriam allyrion remained sat in the chair beside the bed that she once shared.

the idols of the gods she had once quietly worshipped in the chambers of her husband were the same as those that were within her own personal chambers; and she had turned them in his direction - all that was left being a veil covering a face that once radiated the sun from it. and the hymns she chanted quietly, in the ancient tongue that followed them from across the narrow sea, were ones that were meant to try and comfort him as much as her in this moment.

mors martell would be reborn, or he would have collected enough good karma to be released from the cycle of reincarnation the dornish believed in; and so, as she muttered her prayers, she thought only of his passing. to wherever he would be going next.

how had this happened? why had this happened, so soon after the death of prince nymos himself?

what struck her, was how crushingly empty the room felt. his lack of presence, his absence, was felt; despite him remaining there. she knew he was no longer here. and she wondered if he would be reborn into a another that would be able to design the greatest of palaces, of gardens, without the weight of a crown on his head. she had not realised there had been tears rolling down her cheeks as she lit the candles surrounding the idols of the seven, not until she thought of her daughter who was within the royal nursery, curled up, blissfully aware that at three years old, she had become the princess of dorne.

she would never know, nor remember, what it was to not be the princess of dorne.

as she sounds of quiet talking came from the other room, she turned her gaze over her shoulder slightly, recognising the sounds of the voices of the martell family. leaning forwards, she unclasped the anklets from her ankles, as though she did not wish to wake him with the sound of the jingling as she walked. and she closed the door quietly behind her, looking upon the faces of the family she had married into. the family that had been her own, for thirteen years.

she greeted each of them with a kiss on their cheek, and yet when it came to loreza, she found herself hesitating. looking upon her, the young girl that had looked upon her with wide eyed awe the day she had married her brother. lost a father, and now her brother. "forgive me for not being here when..." she whispered, unable to finish the sentence. when her brother had breathed his last. because all suspected how the marriage of the prince and princess of dorne had broken down, into the distance it had become.

what had house martell done to have such tragedy befall them? gods, her poor mother.. to lose a husband and a son so quickly after on another, she cannot imagine the pain. and myriam, gods, myriam. it was known that their marriage was not doing the best but still, she had spent so many years faithfully at mors' side. loreza can only imagine how hard this must be hitting.

then there's poor leila, who will likely never really remember her father. how unfortunate that the babe will grow up only hearing stories of the man he was. still, lori tells herself that she will make sure she relays those stories to her dear niece. the girl deserves to know the kind of wonderful man her father was.

she enters the room with her head down, but slowly looks up. her deep brown hues meet those of myriam, who already has tears pouring down her cheeks. she makes her way over, grabbing hold of the woman by her forearms. "you are forgiven, myriam. please, be kinder to yourself." she's already going through enough.

there was no way to describe the calm to follow a storm that never was: at least, not to the eyes of those others in the room that witnessed the facial expression of rashid jordayne change upon hearing news he knew would forever change the way dorne and history would remember and know him as. a developed level of self-discipline was not a sign of calmness, but rather a sign of hard work: work done through years of dealing with questions and matters about himself he would rather avoid, anxieties plaguing his mind regarding his calmer personality and wondering whether that would be a way in which the tor found itself at the mercy of other lords who were more poison than the calmness of the sea.

with age, and with experience and reflection, he realised his calmness and ability to see rationally was what would ensure the survival of house jordayne. and more than the survival of it.

"gods help us." he muttered, his tone more sarcastic than genuine as he crossed the threshold into their private chambers, holding the door open for his wife as she too followed in after him. as though it would always be matter after matter. he half expected to feel a numbing sense of anger the minute he was alone, and still, he did not. only a sense of calmness, knowing what would need to be done. knowing he would see it done, and lord toland would be forced to make a choice which put himself on the line rather than the entirety of his people. "our families have been fighting for dominance of the northern shores for as long as i know. always unspoken. lord toland and me have never had any direct issue or source of conflict."

still, the sound that came from him as he shut the chamber door as he crossed the threshold into their private bedchamber was one where someone was finally able to let go. the exhale was slow, steady, but ever so needed; keeping it entirely together to ensure his sister understood that she had done no wrong and that he would handle the matter was exactly what he needed to do. such was his duty as the older brother, but also as a human from one to another: where did the line draw? he did not draw the lines of the gods when it came to justice; only knew that he would strive to do what would avoid ripping open more wounds in the lands that were just healing. the lands which his wife treasured so dearly to the point she put herself forward when none other did, all those years ago.

"i will need to speak with your brother on demanding a trial by combat from the man." he spoke, looking up at loreza for a moment as she fiddled with removing her jewellery.

he wordlessly slipped off his shirt, as though it were suddenly too uncomfortable and hot for him, putting it atop a chest of drawers as he heard the sounds of his wife's anklets jingling as she too made her way around the bedchamber. they had been far from strangers upon their union, and rashid was blessed with the reality of knowing the individual he had ended up marrying: not all the small details that came only when living alongside another, but enough. those days where she was a princess and he was merely the captain of the city guard, forced to watch over her with mock irritation; he could never find it within himself to truly be vexed with her.

the calmness of her husband is something she has both always admired, and been baffled by. loreza is not the type to lash out either, but when she is filled with such emotions, she can certainly snap. rashid, however, does not. seemingly no matter what happens or how he is wronged, he does not. it amazes her, his ability to stay calm in the face of such an incident.

now, she and lady nyla did not always get along. for the lady is nothing like her brother, all fire and boldness. something loreza wishes she could simply admire just as she does with rashid, but something she instead finds to be rather grating.

still, what happened to her is something no woman deserves. and so when she returned in a rush, upset and even almost afraid, the princess had comforted her. because everyone deserves to be comforted after such an event, even those you may not get along with. the princess had calmed her, reassured her that justice would be sought in her name. reassured her that nothing that happened to her had been her fault.

she makes her way about the room, following her husband and then making her own way. first her earrings come off, then her bracelets. she always has a hard time shedding the wedding bangles she continues to wear, smiling as she slides them off her wrist and sets them down on a dresser. “would you like for me to join you?” she asks softly, looking at him over her shoulder for a moment.

the princess stands in front of the mirror, beginning to brush out her long hair as she listens to him speak. then he appears behind her, and she smiles at him in the reflection. “there is no need to thank me, i did what anyone would do,” she replies. what she had done was simple human decency-- something the lord toland did not have-- and something she hopes anyone would’ve done to help the lady nyla.

.

the princess walks arm in arm with her goodsister, enjoying the views of the garden. though there remains a tension between the two kingdoms, the princess has tried her best to enjoy herself her, just as she had many moons ago now. it is still a lovely place, even if that veil of beauty has been pulled back some.

“i know, i know. but i couldn’t bear the thought of you all going without me. i had missed you all, you know.“ they had been quite close before she had left for the tor, and loreza had to take the chance to see her family. even if it meant going into the court of snakes, as she said.

“the court of snakes or married life?” she giggles, having known what it is myriam is asking but simply teasing a bit. “it is wonderful, really. i am not sure what i expected but…” she sighs and smiles. “rashid is everything i could have asked for in a husband.”

❂

and the words regarding missing her family resonated deeply with the woman of godsgrace, for those early months following marriage and leaving behind the place one grew up in is one of the hardest experiences for a woman. when the wedding flutes stopped and the dancing came to an end, when the wedding bangles had been slipped upon the wrist, what was often left was the slow realisation and ache of the world one once left behind. "i know." 

and they were the only words she would speak on the familiarity. she remembered loreza when she married and came to sunspear, a young girl with wide large eyes that remained ever so beautiful and optimistic of the world. and now she understood, more now than ever before. it made her feel as though she could relate closer to her sister. "i hear the people of the tor serenaded you upon your entry. their princess being one of their own." 

and there were levels of excitement within her voice. whilst marriage was difficult, she would not wish to taint it with putting thoughts in the head of the woman. if there was anything to worry about, she would have sensed it by now. she clung to loreza's arm, looking down upon her wedding bangles that a new bride was expected to wear for some months after the wedding.

"it is almost as though you should have always married him." 

and her voice was taunting, for all knew of the way in which the princess spoke to lord of the tor. perhaps their story was written, just as his house words suggested. a small smile crossed her features as the sound of anklets filled the air of highgarden's gardens, watching various figures in the distance. "the lord of the tor comes across quite mature. as though dealt with some matters independently before embarking on marriage, rather than expecting his wife to be the one to fix him. at least we can thank the gods for that." 

oh, how grateful she is to have this woman in her life. a simple i know is all she says and yet the princess knows she truly does mean that, that she truly does understand her. somehow, she always has. it felt that way even back upon their first meeting, when loreza was just a young girl.

“they did.” she giggles slightly, giddy from the memory of it. it was such a joyous day, and one she never will forget. “it was a beautiful song, too. i wish you could've heard it.”

her own gaze follows myriam's, looking fondly upon the bangles that still decorate her wrist. she isn't sure when she will take them off. actually, she isn't sure if she ever will, lest the memories go along with them. “it is, isn't it? i think a part of me has always known, or hoped rather... i wasn't sure if the day would ever truly come, though.” she continues along the path, breathing in deeply the scent of the roses. somehow, she's yet to find the scent nauseating.

and the sounds of anklets jingling was hardly something strange or suspicious to those dornish attendents and courtiers some yards behind the two princesses of dorne; only, for it to be in such a setting as this one, where different hues of green seemed to almost attack the senses.

there was so much, too much here, almost as though nature itself had been tainted by gluttony.

"i do still think you had every right to deny the wish to accompany the court to this place. your early married days should be somewhere in peace and private, rather than the court of snakes."

and she glances sideways at her good sister beside her, who had recently entered a new phase of her life as the lady of the tor; married life was important in dorne, a family matter in itself - and whilst she never doubted loreza would be warmly accepted by the jordaynes and the tor, all of dorne had heard the songs they had sung for their new lady upon her barrat procession and arrival to the new city.

"how are you finding it, truthfully?"

the princess walks arm in arm with her goodsister, enjoying the views of the garden. though there remains a tension between the two kingdoms, the princess has tried her best to enjoy herself her, just as she had many moons ago now. it is still a lovely place, even if that veil of beauty has been pulled back some.

“i know, i know. but i couldn't bear the thought of you all going without me. i had missed you all, you know.“ they had been quite close before she had left for the tor, and loreza had to take the chance to see her family. even if it meant going into the court of snakes, as she said.

@lorczamartell // A Wedding Between the Moon and Sunspear’s Sun (ft the song the people are singing)

over the time skip, the ruling lord of the tor lord rashid qamar of house jordayne, took princess loreza of house martell as his wife. after five days of celebration, they were wed within the chaar daravaajon vaala mandir, the sept of four doors (as pictured in the middle picture) within the lands of the tor. there, they listened to scripture from the seven pointed star, circled the holy script seven times before finishing off their vows by throwing grains of rice into a fire together. 

the procession from the sept to the keep of the tor was met by crowds lining to see their princess, who had long been the people’s princess. during the procession, singers and musicians from the tor lined the winding bazzars filled with dancers; there was a new ruling lady within the tor, and a new guardian of the sacred sept. as the sound of flutes filled the skies, petals rained down upon the princess, as well as the mass singing of the crowds.

kesariya tera, ishq hai piya. rang jaaun jo main haath lagaaun. (oh, my dear, the color of your love is saffron. if I touch it, i too become colored.)

those who paid enough attention would see her new husband walking beside the white horse the new bride remained upon, guiding it carefully by holding onto the reins. the pair laughing every now and then about something none other could hear as he lead his wife to their new home.

chanda bhi diwana hai tera jalti hai tujhse sari chakoriyan. kaajal ki siyahi se likhi hain tune jaane kitno ki love story-an (the moon too loses reality and admires you as well; i’m not sure how many love stories you’ve written with your kohl)