"we have got to stop meeting like this," she said lightly, amusement warming her voice as she steadied aemma by the arm.

the jest faded softer after a moment, concern slipping through in its place. esra studied her quietly --- enough to notice her friend's confliction.

Dorne could piss off.

Myriame sat perched on the lip of a marble fountain. The heat of the air suffocating her. Her skin,usually the pale cream of winter, had ripened to an angry, stinging pink. She fanned herself with a desperate, rhythmic vigor, but the lace fan only served to blow the same stifling hot air.

She eyed a trio of beautiful Dornish ladies stroll past, their silk gowns whispering against the ground. They glanced her way, she was certain of it, and their laughter sharpened. It wasn’t exactly clear if they were laughing at her but it certainly felt like they were. They faded into the distance, their laughter ringing in Myriame’s ears. 

Dorne really could piss off.

If she had thought Kings Landing was hot eight months ago, this was on an entirely new scale. Give her the North. Give her grey skies and biting winds, the sharp breath of the sea and the blessed chill that seeped into bone. Anything but this.

She glanced over one shoulder, then the other. The courtyard was momentarily empty, the guards retreated to the deep shadows. With a low groan, Myriame abandoned all pretense of being a high born lady. 

She lunged forward, plunging her head into the fountain. 

Oh it was bliss.

She held her head underneath the water and let peace take her. The water was tepid by Northern standards, but against her scorched skin, it felt a mercy sent by the gods themselves. She stayed submerged, ears filled with the dull thrum of the fountain’s pulse, letting the silence of the water drown out the oppressive heat and the memory of those gorgeous ladies. For a few moments she wasn't a lady out of her element, she was just a creature surviving.

The feeling of a presence behind her broke her momentary tranquillity. 

“What?” she snapped, wrenching herself upward.

She looked a drowned rat, and she knew it. Dark, sodden strands of hair clung to her cheeks, and water cascaded from her chin, darkening the bodice of her gown. She blinked rapidly, droplets clinging to her lashes as she glared at the intruder through a blurred, watery veil. Although she couldn't quite make out who it was, “Have you never seen a woman try not to melt where she sits?” she demanded, her voice sharp.  

her amusement in the end, won. a laugh slipped free before she could stop it. low, warm, and entirely unashamed.

"gods," she said between the fading remnants of it, dark brows arching as she leaned lazily against the carved stone pillar behind her. "forgive me when i say this, my lady, but you looked so peaceful beneath the water that i nearly felt guilty interrupting."

and yet, you could not find an ounce of apology coating her words.

the heat did not seem to touch her in the same cruel way it did the other woman. dorne rested easily upon myria, woven into the bronze glow of her skin and the languid ease of her posture. gold glimmered at her fingers and throat alike, catching beneath the late afternoon sun, while thin silks shifted softly around her in the dry breeze.

at the sharpness in the stranger's voice, however, her smile only deepened.

the heat hovering over sunspear softened after dark, settling over the palace like silk while music and laughter spilled from crowded courtyards below. nobles from across the kingdoms drank too much wine beneath fluttering banners, smiling through rivalries and whispering about the controversial wedding as though lowering their voices made their opinions less obvious.

trystane watched it all from the shade of an orange tree overlooking the feast, a goblet of dark wine turning lazily between his fingers. politics disguised as celebration. old grudges dressed in silk and gold.

his gaze lingered briefly on the flames burning from the braziers below.

eight names flickered through his mind like prayer.

then movement caught his attention nearby - someone slipping away from the festivities in search of quieter air. the easy curve of his smile returned at once as he glanced toward them.

“escaping the celebration,” he observed smoothly, lifting his goblet slightly in greeting, “or simply looking for somewhere quieter to watch the kingdoms pretend to like one another?”

the sound of the stranger's voice drew her attention before she had fully registered his presence. when she turned, she regarded him with the composed coldness she regarded most things with.

where: sunspear. dorne.

finally the long arduous journey to dorne has ended. The eight months that have gone by since the fatal days at the red keep were behind him. Loras had no reason to care about that. His brother gyles had married, which was eventual in of itself. loras spent most of the moons in highgarden, finally being the father and husband that his family has missed so much because of his position.

“I wonder when the serenity of these celebratory times shall be put to an end because of chaos?” he chuckled, finding amusement if this historic occasion is interrupted.

sybelle couldn't help but to curl her lips at his words. "do not jest carelessly, my love," she murmured, though amusement lingered openly within her voice. "chaos is terribly fond of being invited."

distraction had always been one of the things she excelled at. keeping her hands occupied and her attention fixed on something manageable rather than letting discomfort settle too deeply beneath her skin. and tonight, that distraction came in the form of performances graciously provided by their host.

when silence finally returned, it lingered, before sybelle finally spoke up. "a fool, perhaps," she murmured at last, her tone soft, touched faintly with something that might have been amusement. it was, after all, a troublesome sort of affection to cultivate, given the… delicate state of things between dorne and the vale. "but still human."

her gaze sharpened then --- not unkind, but more grounded.

"i have little say in how your father and brother choose to regard it," she continued, voice smooth and measured. "nor can i pretend their concerns are without reason. the world you belong to is not a forgiving one, dear niece. it does not look kindly upon... complications."

"but what i can say is this," she stepped a fraction closer, just enough for her presence to feel certain, anchoring. her expression eased, just enough to be felt. "what you feel is not made lesser simply because it is inconvenient. nor is it made foolish because others refuse to understand it. whether it endures or not is a different matter entirely --- but do not let them convince you that the feeling itself is something to be ashamed of."

Aemma did not deny that it hurt a little to hear her aunt call her a fool but when she said still human, it made her feel a little better. She was not wrong though. The young Arryn was a fool in love with a man from the region that took her mother. The only that took down a dragon and yet here she was giving her heart away to a man from the dunes. She stood in silence as her aunt spoke.

The world you belong to is not a forgiving one, she understood what the words meant. The people of the Vale loved her mother and if they were to hear about her and Cassian, they could revolt. Or worse her Uncle would do something about it. They would not allowed Dorne to have another dragon, let alone one to the household that was the Martells fighters.

If anything Aemma felt reckless more than shw felt ashamed and this only solidified that despite everything that was happening, she was allowed to feel loved. At least that was she interpreted her aunt's words. " I will take your words at heart. It seems I have much to think about when I return home." She answered with seriousness before she smiled once more. "But enough about me, I want you to tell me all about the little ones"

But once he is gone who will I have?

"Is that code that you've heard of the betrothal?" he asked, sighing slightly, "damn our sibling for forcing me into this. You make one small mistake and suddenly you're forced to marry your best friend" he groaned. "Honestly it's quite unfair for her"

unfair. how lightly he said it --- how lightly the word seemed to sit on his tongue. rowena had long since learned that unfairness was not some rare misfortune, but the quiet, constant thread woven through every arrangement, every expectation, every duty placed upon them. still, none of that showed.

instead, she exhaled softly through her nose, her gaze drifting over him with a measured sort of calm. "i must say you are rather lucky," she began, almost contemplative. "not all of us are afforded such a luxury to marry a friend."

there was no bitterness in her tone --- at least, none that could be easily named. only a quiet certainty, the kind that came from long familiarity rather than fresh hurt.

"they resist," myria said at last, a light shrug followed shortly.

funnily enough, everything --- everyone --- resisted at first. it was almost instinctual, that need to remain untouched. and yet, given enough time, they ended up wanting it. to be chosen. to be kept.

myria had been the one to make them want, after all.

"they insist they won't be kept," she went on, her tone unchanged, airy in a way that made the words feel almost inconsequential. she did not look at him right away this time --- her gaze drifting instead to the sand-strewn street beneath their feet as she walked on, unhurried. "they're usually wrong."

"hellholt has a memory for things like that," she added. not quite a warning. not enough to be a confession. "it doesn't forget what it has kept --- or taken."

the wind shifted, carrying with it a faint trace of something acrid beneath the dust --- sulfur, heat, something burned long ago and never entirely gone.

"not so long ago, someone thought herself untouchable here," myria continued, her voice dipping just slightly, as though the thought amused her more than it should have. "fire and blood, and still---"

she let the rest fall away, finding it unnecessary to finish. all of westeros knew the tale.

her attention settled back on him then, anchored and unwavering, though her pace remained unchanged --- as if none of it required more than passing mention.

i have picked up the quill and set it down a dozen times before finding the courage to let the ink meet the parchment. there is a weight in my chest that i fear only these words might begin to lift. i must start with an apology, though even that feels insufficient. i have failed you, esra. as your elder sister, i should have been a steady hand and a clear example of what it means to be a stark. instead, i allowed my own selfish heart to cause a rift in this family that i am only now beginning to truly understand. i let you down. i let our house down. and for the part i played in the discord that followed us from the south, i am deeply truly sorry. i can only hope that, in time, you might find it in your heart to forgive a sister who was too lost in her own shadows to see the light she should have been providing for you. it feels strange to speak of happiness amidst such regret, but i want to be honest with you. things with theo lannister are... growing. he has a way of seeing the world. of seeing me - that i did not expect to find and perhaps do not deserve. but there is a steadiness there, a commitment that i am learning to lean into. it is a quiet sort of thing. it is real - and it is helping me find my footing again as i try to make amends for the past. enough of my own world. how are you, little sister ?? i find myself wondering what your days are like, what you think of when you look out at the horizon. if the air feels different now that we have left. it is a bitter grief to realize that we may feel more like strangers than sisters. we should have grown up together... sharing secrets over needlework and racing through the halls of winterfell. i hate that we have been robbed of that. and i hate that i was too preoccupied to fight harder to bridge the distance between us sooner. please, tell me everything. i want to know the woman you have become, even if i have to learn it one letter at a time. with all my love

to my dear sister, alara

i read your letter more than once before deciding how to answer it.

you ask for forgiveness. i will not give it to you --- simply because i see that there is nothing to forgive.