#loreza 004

[myriamas]

who: @lorczamartell when and where: the private quarters of prince mors martell, soon following the discovery of his lifeless body. one by one, more officials of dorne are called secretly in the early hours of the morning: and when princess loreza of dorne enters the room, myriam approaches her quietly.

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.

"the gurus have been called. the granthi too." the gurus, the ones who dealt with surveying the health of the court. they who dealt with the corpses of royals. her hand rested nervously over her mouth, almost as though she were in disbelief.