Spaceballs (1987) Dir. Mel Brooks

who: @raviofthesun when and where: two days following lady ruqaiyah dayne's arrival to sunspear from starfall, she crosses paths with the oldest surviving son of house martell - also being her betrothed from their early youth. context: these two have known one another for many years, considering there was some time where ravi lived at starfall to train with baashir during the time of him being a second son.

feigning exhaustion and borderline sickness from the journey across the breadth of dorne had worked in the favour of the lady of starfall; even if she had needed to put her ability to dramatise anything and everything into good use, as though the journey was not one that was done regularly both in the past and the present. the daynes had ventured to the great sept of sunspear alongside the other courtiers of those who swore to be unbowed, unbent and unbroken; a moment of respite from the close monitoring she had been dealing with by her mother and brother alike.

and so the moment the door had shut behind her quarters, an entitled amethyst gaze had immediately turned toward the guard that remained in her room…who now remained a watchful eye on this golden sandy beach in the shadow of the fortress of sunspear and the shadow city itself.

the wonders of giving instructions with no falter or stammer, with the sound logical reason of fresh air helping her fight off the impending sickness she felt at the back of her entirely clear throat. truthfully, her stay in sunspear had been tarnished by a certain ghost's reappearance across from her at a circle table - and this trip was an important one, for a multitude of reasons. the daynes would need to cement their position, in more ways than one. one of such ways would end in her and ravi of the sun circling the marital flames a total of seven times.

but things were different; and as much as she wished to simply be able to navigate herself into his sphere to find a way to close the distance that was some months of business and distance, sunspear and the dornish sun were his halls. and he somehow seemed more of a prince here than in any other place. a part of her grew irritated with the fact she could not smoke under the gaze of the starfall guard, though now she knew this place existed, she would no doubt find some way to slip here.

and when a distant figure appeared upon one of the sand dunes, she narrowed her amethyst gaze, using her hand to shield herself from the glare of the sun behind it to try and see who it was that was walking toward her. feet remained in the sparkling intense blue of the ocean, silver anklets submerged, and pastel pink silk swirling at her feet. the sun continued to blind her, and she began to step forward from the sea kissing at her feet, when the dots connected.

"skipping the sept too, your highness?" she asked, her voice trailing over the soft sound of the waves as she walked too. and whilst she could comfortably refer to ravi as her friend, he was her prince too; especially in such a setting, and so she dropped into a graceful curtsy, not deep enough for it to be strange, but enough to signify respect and a comfort in doing such things. they knew the way their worlds worked - and whilst she complained of many things, he was not one of them. "i have been meaning to ask you what time you were born."

"but you are surrounded each time i see you." she had not realised how much the political situation had changed until she had seen it. rav was not a second son anymore, and a small part of her began to wonder. wonder what she had not wondered before. would marrying another, that was not her, make more sense?

who: @raviofthesun when and where: the royal apartments of prince ravi martell context: following her little temper tantrum, ravi followed through with the promise of a dinner.

she arrived precisely ten minutes early - expecting everything to be set up and perfect, as no man in his right mind would leave anything of this nature so last minute. she did not knock. ruqaiyah had never once announced herself like a servant waiting to be received, and she would not start now, least of all at the threshold of the private martell apartments, where history had already decided she was to one day belong. and she very much agreed with that rhetoric.

and so, the guards glanced at her, but none dared question her entrance; what could they say, with the sun itself stitched into her lehenga and a gaze that did not ask for permission?

the corridors glowed amber beneath the sconces, but they paled against the pink heat of her attire, the silk whispering against her skin with every step, embroidered thread catching the candlelight in glimmers of gold. each anklet, each bracelet, each chain at her waist and glittering around her neck added to the crescendo of her presence—she moved, and the world jingled in acknowledgment. her heels clacked unapologetically, arrogant and sharp, the kind of sound meant to precede news.

ruqaiyah could see herself walking these halls everyday. telling the governess to tell the children to be quiet. making the servants display her outfits lined up.

she had worn pink—not rose, not blush, not any dusty rose, but pink—hot and commanding, like the inside of a pomegranate freshly torn. it clung to her waist, her sleeves sheer and beaded, the skirts full enough to swallow entire population of smallfolk girls whole. her lips were glassy, unapologetically reflective, and her long hair—every strand straightened to a blade—cascaded down her back like a curtain of ink.

she stood now in the outer solar, though no servants were in sight. fine. let him find her here, composed, statuesque. she smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle from her sleeve and let her gaze drift to the arches and pillars carved with sandstone vines. the martell taste for excess was more subdued than dornish fire might suggest—peach marble and muted earth tones. it made her seem even louder by comparison, a gem mistakenly placed in a bowl of stonefruit. "so this is it," she murmured aloud to herself, fingers trailing lightly along the edge of a table carved with sun motifs. "the belly of the beast."

she had imagined it before, of course. had imagined countless evenings where he would finally remember the promises laid out for them before they could even speak in full sentences. imagined him, not as he was—cool and absent and impossible—but as he might become, if only he would stop stalling. "tell the prince i am here." she did even bother to introduce herself - in what world would she need to? the most beautiful in dorne, on the continent; the sister of the sword of the morning, and the oldest lady of house dayne.

"for our private dinner." she did not want them stood inside.

★

there were lessons learned and lessons forgot, time and time again; felt in the early days of girlhood, where what lay behind the thin veil of the grace of the evening's bed curtain would be enough to cause shockwaves rolling through the halls. lessons of what it felt like to be the centre of something, of being wanted; her spiteful edge had no doubt made her unapproachable and unreliable in regard to friendships.

lessons learned in realising that one could become swept up in the moment, and lessons learned in the cruel reality of hindsight. lessons learned, and lessons forgot; for much to her dismay, the twisting feeling in the pit of her stomach was one of intense jealousy.

gods knew directly what it was relating to, the type of jealousy that was always quick to spring to her mind at the mention of the younger lord of hellholt: but perhaps jealousy in the knowledge that for years, devani had been free to do what she wanted. be who she wanted.

ruqaiyah squeezed a lemon into her goblet, as she did with every drink, staring directly into the gaze of devani toland. "don't call me that." she spoke, dropping all pretence. dropping all formalities.

"stay forever. leave tomorrow. remember. or don't. whatever you do, you have no friend, ally or familiarity in me."

the world had been seen, lessons learned; and in the end, it felt as though the woman sat across from her had done so much. stayed the same whilst changing. and ruqaiyah had remained the same as she always had; the vision of perfection in the eyes of her parents. parent. and now she sat across from her, clearly attempting to make her feel jealous; rub the salt into her wound and hold her into her place whilst it burned.

"now, let us listen to the music....the only show any of us care for." she put on a patronising smile as a swift boundary was drawn in a knife, yet, her hands dug into her skirts.

a cool eyebrow raised, a flicker of something triumphant behind devani's eyes. she wasn't sure - with ruqaiyah, she wasn't sure she'd ever be sure of anything - but she thought that perhaps she could detect a slight hint of something that looked like jealousy.

she smiled then, not the smirk of before but a sloping grin that was perhaps incongruous with the mood that had settled over her when dante uller's name was first mentioned. it did not have to go this way. despite what people may have assumed about her, given the way that she lived her life, devani was not the argumentative sort. the fact it went this way was down to ru, and ru alone, but devani had been pushed too far. how was it that ruqaiyah always knew what to say, what buttons to push to send her over the edge, even after all these years?

"of course i did." she scoffed. "in fact, he was my first port of call when i returned. i've spent more time at hellholt than ghost hill since i returned." even if she was wrong, if it wasn't jealousy ruqaiyah was feeling, there was a grim sort of satisfaction in the fact that she had, at least, proven ruqaiyah wrong.

"i think you have gotten me all wrong, ru." she had meant to call her lady dayne, but the habit had yet to die. "perhaps you forget. i never claimed to have been right." and that was the difference between the two. ruqaiyah demanded perfection, where devani embraced the absence of it.

there had been times, whilst she had been away, as recently as six months ago, where she had found something that reminded her of ruqaiyah. she had sent it to starfall, with no name, and no note. had her trinkets been received? did ruqaiyah know who carefully wrapped them in scented silks, and sent them across the sea?

devani snorted. if ruqaiyah meant to unnerve her by pointing out aditya toland's flaws, she would get nothing but agreement from devani. "if i waited for aditya to protect me, i'd be waiting a long time." in her disdain for her brother, she was perhaps the clearest she had been all night. "but yes. i do recall my time in starfall. glad to hear that you do, also."

had ruqaiyah realised she had let the mask slip? that her own lips had informed all who still listened to their terse words that the two had spent time together. they were not strangers.

"i'm not sure yet." in truth, she wasn't. "i'm here for now."

★

ruqaiyah’s gaze did not falter. not once. she held herself with the same effortless poise that had been honed since birth, but beneath it—beneath the careful drape of silks and the steady weight of amethyst upon her wrists—there was something brittle. something that had yet to crack but threatened to, beneath the unbearable absurdity of it all. why were they doing this? she knew why she was doing this; because she would keep doing it, until she felt like her point had gotten across.

until devani felt like the most awful individual walking this land; and so in all their frustration, she barely took a moment to even fully listen to devani's words, constantly close to talking over her and doing so multiple times.

“you know me? are you dense?” her voice was light, conversational almost, as if amused by a foolish remark at court. “you know me yet you stand there, telling me my life is the reason i am angry with your decision. well my life is perfect, more perfect than you could ever even dream to get close to.” she exhaled sharply, glancing away, not because she was uncertain, but because devani toland had always been exhausting. she had always been insufferable, with her hunger for something more, for something beyond their shores, for a life that did not include ruqaiyah dayne. and that—that was what burned. it was not the leaving, nor even the years between them. it was this.

this moment, where devani stood before her, unwavering, as though she had not done something unforgivable. "you expect me to simply—what? accept that you do not understand why i am angry? as though i am the one being unreasonable?" her head tilted, and she let out a short, sharp breath, something caught between disbelief and scorn. "you knew exactly what you were doing, then and now." her voice rose, shrill and cutting, serrated with the weight of years left unspoken.

her hands clenched, nails digging into her palms, her breath quickening despite herself. "you. left." the words came hot, half lurching herself forward and stamping onto the ground as though she were a child having a tantrum. "you left me, and you never looked back for me. you left me, after agreeing that we would always have one another. you left me, after telling me there was no reason for you to look anywhere else. and now you return, not even with an apology, as some pathetic, empty carcass of yourself?" she took a step forward, close enough that she could see the flicker of something—something—in devani’s eyes. but it was not enough. nothing would be enough. "and you BLAME me?"

ruqaiyah had never wanted to beg for anything. she had never needed to. but gods, she hated the way her heart clenched as she awaited an answer. she hated that it mattered at all. "i hated you for this then, and i hate you for this now." she felt embarrassed, as though she had found herself tripping and entirely diving head first into some fantasy world she had made up in her head; only she had been told it was not made up. she had confirmed it for her, then she had embarrassed her. the feeling was a burning one, that of regret and embarrassment. "i will always hate you. i'll have you know, i wish you the worst. and more."

devani tilted her head slightly, studying with an intensity that had last been seen in her face long ago, suddenly more solemn. it was not the look of someone who had listened to ruqaiyah's word, and felt hurt or slighted by them. no ; when devani's lips parted, it was an expression of concern, as though she understood that she had pushed things too far.

and yet, was that not part of the issue? she could not help but push and poke. with everyone else in her life, she had been content to leave and be forgotten, to know her time in their life was brief. it was not the same with ruqaiyah, and she knew not why. perhaps because she had been the first, perhaps because her sudden departure, a decade and a half ago, had left no opportunity to close the door on what it was between them. it was not that this was the first time devani had to look in the face of someone she had left behind, for she had thought of ruqaiyah in the moments between departing and returning, the potential of whispered promises stamped on her in ways she did not care to admit aloud.

do you understand i would have done anything for you? do you understand what it is you have lost?

"i don't know of it," she conceded. "but i know you." ruqaiyah could pretend that she did not, that she had changed and grown beyond devani's recognition, but looking at her now, devani did not think that so. not in the way she acted, the way the wounds devani had given her still seemed to be raw in the way they were when she left, the way she sought to inflict wounds of her own rather than to understand.

"perhaps i am never satisfied." she would not deny the way whenever she came close to finding familiar, she ran from it, that she had never once settled before once again taking flight. it would be pointless. and still, a wry smile painted itself on her face. "do you think you'll fare better?" she asked, once again unable to stop herself from digging further. "that you won't look back on your own life with regret? maybe you already do. you are angry with me for leaving, because you wish you would have, too." despite her travels, the people she had known, devani still found herself unable to truly grasp the heart of the matter, and so instead, she flipped it into terms she could understand, into how she would feel if she were in ruqaiyah's shoes - jealous that the other had the courage to take their life into their own hands, rather than the alternative.

she did not know how to make it different. it was not even that she expected to pick up where they had left things. she were a fool, but not that much of one. it was simply that something was better than nothing - and what existed between them now, the tension and bitterness, wasn't nothing. it was as though they weren't fighting over old hurt, but the very idea that it had ever existed at all.

"as sure as i am that you would get great pleasure from seeing me on my knees," she drawled, unable to stop herself from making things suggestive. "it won't be the ending of me, ru. i've been there. i've done it, and come out the other end. but you... you stagnated. you're still where i left you."

Me core

★

she took a step closer, her pale pink silks whispering against the stone floor, her presence nyielding - she never knew when to stop. never knew when to let up, constantly needing to have the final word in every situation and scenario. “but let us entertain the thought, just for a moment. you believe you’ve returned with something to offer, something to prove, but i see through it. you’re like nothing - fading, trying desperately to hold onto something that no longer exists.” her gaze flicked over devani’s bowed head, the mockery in it stoking the embers of her irritation.

“what could you possibly offer anyone now, devani? your roots were severed the moment you left, and no amount of coy glances or veiled words can replant them. what more is there for you here? fixing your brother's mess?” she scoffed, her hand jingling with the sound of amethyst jewels, white gold glinting in the sunlight. "it is my brother that will sort your mess, we all know it. and you will nod and say, okay...as if that would stop anything." there was a level of cruelty in her words now, almost in retaliation to the slow gaze that crept over her figure, and as much as she took pleasure in it, she also found herself bitter by it.

because it changed nothing. her body was just a body to devani toland; she was not special. she was not different. and it was enough to make her want to scream.

ruqaiyah’s laugh came slow, deliberate, curling like smoke in the air between them. she tilted her head, her amethyst eyes dark and calculating as they swept over devani. “oh, darling,” she began, her voice low and rich, tinged with that razor-sharp edge she wielded so effortlessly. “there is nothing to tell ravi. nothing.” her lips twitched into a smile that barely concealed the bitterness lurking beneath. “and even if there were, it would be so insignificant as to hardly warrant his attention.” she turned her head slightly, as though inspecting devani from a new angle, her gaze laden with a judgmental disdain.

“what is it you think i have to tell him, hmm? that two girls used to share a bed? that you used to spend far too much time within my house because nobody wanted you in yours?"

devani exhaled, a sound halfway between a scoff and a laugh. "fear, courage... there's a fine line between them, ru. and in the end, it doesn't matter what lit the fire under my heels. i am here." her words were edged with a note of finality. it did not matter what words ruqaiyah flung at her now, running could not be an option.

and yet, there was something devani could not deny. underneath ruqaiyah's piercing gaze and sharp words was a woman who knew the parts of herself devani had fought for years to hide, to keep concealed behind flippant smiles and smarmy words. here was a woman who knew her from the inside out, even after so many years looking at her through the lens of a teenage girl who still looked at her and saw betrayal.

her gaze dropped, flicking to ruqaiyah's hand for a heartbeat as it brushed hers off, as though to mask the look that crossed her face. when she looked up again, it was gone. "what could i possibly be hiding?" the answer to that was more than she thought even ruqaiyah could imagine. "honestly, ru. you and your conspiracy theories. you'll drive yourself mad." as though she was not the one slowly losing her grip, as though she hadn't accumulated enough secrets to bury her.

she did not answer, instead allowing her eyes to drag over ruqaiyah, slow and leisurely. she could slap away devani's touch, but she could not stop her looking, could not wash away what she wished to pretend had never happened. they had once been everything to each other, until devani had decided to be nothing, a name and a ghost and a memory, which no explanation as to why. even then, she had not shared the reality of life in ghost hill, though ruqaiyah might have guessed as to why she spent so much time anywhere but home.

she straightened, halting her trip through the maze of memories with a deferent bow of her head, but even in that gesture, there was mockery. "as your subject to be then, i suppose i ought to be properly repentant." her tone dripped with sarcasm. "tell me, princess ruqaiyah, how might i atone? should i get on my knees?" there was suggestion in her words, though she quickly dropped it, her tone becoming more thoughtful when she asked again.

"but what will you tell him? that fiancé of yours? because you're right about one thing, ru. nobody can hide forever."

★

ruqaiyah dayne’s smile curved slowly, a perfectly practiced arc that revealed nothing of the thoughts stirring behind her violet eyes. she allowed lord tirius rowan to take her hand, his lips brushing it with all the decorum of a reachman’s chivalry. his restraint amused her, though she made no effort to show it. instead, she tipped her head slightly, letting the shimmering folds of her white shawl catch the sunlight, her every movement deliberate, her every angle framed as if for a portrait.

“my lord rowan,” she said, her voice as smooth and honeyed as the wines of arbor. “you honor me.” her tone was light, almost playful, the words brushing the surface of their conversation without delving into its depths. she could feel his gaze lingering on her, but she refused to meet it too directly, instead letting her lashes lower just enough to seem demure.

“new to joining the court, you say?” she let out a soft, breathy laugh, a sound like bells. “i suppose you could say that. sunspear’s court is...well. it is no starfall.” her lips, glistening with gloss, curved just a touch more. “starfall is unmatched, the very jewel of dorne. you must see it someday, my lord, if only to understand what it means to live surrounded by true beauty.” she let her words hang for a moment, savoring the way they seemed to catch him off guard.

ruqaiyah had long since mastered the art of making men fumble, not through overt advances, but by pulling their focus and tilting their world just enough to make them aware of her control. and yet it never went anywhere, for she would rather sit back and look upon their sisters or wives.

“but yes,” she continued, her tone light once more, as if brushing away the matter entirely, “it is my first time at court. my lord brother has always insisted that starfall required my presence, though i suspect he simply wished to keep me hidden away.” she lifted her gaze to meet his now, bold and unflinching, her violet eyes gleaming like polished amethysts.

her words danced around the obvious tensions between their kingdoms, careful not to reveal too much. instead, she tilted her chin slightly, allowing her hair to spill like a cascade of silk over one shoulder. “tell me, lord rowan,” she said, her voice almost a purr, “what brings the men of the reach so close to dorne’s waters? surely it is not merely the promise of silks and sweet smells.” her smile returned, sharper now, a blade hidden within silk. "many call you pirates."

The Dornish were people of questionable character and low repute. House Rowan themselves held an ages long animosity with those of House Wyl and by extension the Martells who fostered such barbery in in their kingdom and allowing those people to thrive and continue to grow. They also had the fortune of being the Principality with the second most beautiful women in Westeros, the Reach holding their position at the top secure in his mind.

She was proud to be a lady of Starfall, he took note. Tirius didn't know if the Dayne's followed the same birth order of Dorne, or if they picked their sons. What he knew of the Daynes, they were closer to the Old Way than the Dornish. Even their mother was of the Reach. Perhaps it aided in the beauty of the woman who presented her hand with a confidence that woke up something in the Hand of the King.

Chivalry, it's true nature, was a Reachly idea. He took her hand in his own and kissed the back carefully, not allowing his lips to linger of his touch. Still, his gaze stayed on her. "My lady of Starfall."

"Is that so?" Yes, his countrymen went to Dorne and lost themselves in silks and sweet smells. Tirius buried the temptations lust turning deeper to his Gods and papers. The Gods who failed him and the papers that continued to pile up around him. And as his wife left him and his world fell apart, Tirius descended. A darkness that was strangling the light. A side of him he tried to hide away.

"I've not seen you before. Are you new to joining your court?" As he looked at her, he understood why her brother would have her hidden in a tower. There were many snakes in the rose bush.