#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.

[myriamas]

❂

it were almost as though the unsteady foundation that was the volcano of myriam allyrion came unsteady, ancient stirrings reawakening something inside of her as her sister in law reached forward to place her hands upon either side of her arms, almost as though the mere physical touch was enough to cause the greatest of disruption. the woman's lip trembled at the thought that crossed over her mind, whether she were still to call loreza her sister, or whether that time in their lives had come to an end; surely that would not be the end of it? the thought of being a widow, with her dark tresses remaining full of colour and her youth remaining intact, caused her to feel like an imposter in her own skin.

as though it were someone else stood before the princess of dorne, watching this interaction play out; perhaps it was the soul itself. did times of great change not bring forth such things?

perhaps the shock that came over her was in reaction to the genuine kindness and love displayed by loreza, despite being in the aftermath, the very shadow, of a darkness that seemed to have wrapped itself firmly around her neck. she found herself almost caving as there was physical touch upon her, and as much as she felt the sudden urge to scream, to scream until the glass around her shattered, she did not. "what are you saying?" she spoke, her voice in such a hush, though there came that unsteady fracture beneath it. death was a morbid affair, and the sense of numbness that sat over her meant all remained internal. that numbness turned into a sense of disbelief, almost as though she did not believe that mors had truly gone. that he would come through the door, and they would continue in being whatever they had turned to one another over the years they had been wed.

"he was alone. for shame, he was alone." her words repeated, momentarily sounding more like a hiss. she was a wife, she was his wife, through it all. and he was not coming back. instead, he lay upon the other side of the room, with a sheet over him. poisoned. and when she spoke, her words came rushing like the currents of the greenblood, in their native tongue rather than the tongue of common. as though speaking common in such a moment was a betrayal. his final moments had been alone. the thought made her blood run cold, and then there came the swirling feeling of guilt at the very bottom of her stomach. it swirled, and then it churned. she moved away from the grasp of loreza, her movements for once silent, as she had taken off her anklets.

"did his people hate him so much?" she asked, her voice cracking ever so slightly, looking over at loreza with a sense of disbelief. only, it were more disbelief in herself, for knowing there was some that would have been unhappy with the prince. that blamed him for much. her movements stilled, no longer the pacing shadowcat, her hands crossing over her torso. she were on the other side of the room now, further away from him. "what have we become?" she asked, looking over her shoulder, wondering when kiaan martell would be here. "those who died fighting against the fucking targaryens would be ashamed. what did they die for?"

loreza can hardly believe what's happened when she's received the news. the princess rushes home as quickly as possible, fleeing the tor. thank the gods she has such a supportive husband, or she may have just fallen apart upon receiving the news. her brother? gone? so shortly after their father? how could something like this happen to them?

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.

"good," the princess swallows thickly, trying to hold back her own tears. slowly, her head turns to the side to look upon what is left of her brother. his mortal form only, for his soul has gone somewhere else entirely-- a place only the gods know now. "you are.. you are so strong, myriam," she has to remind the woman, lest she forget it.