who: @fromspringandfire
when and where: semi-flashback, one of the many great celebrations within casterly rock for the announcement of prince arthur lannister, myriam allyrion attends a celebration set outdoors hosted by queen katherine, consisting mostly of women.
context: myriam is very curious about being a mistress in other regions, and who better to speak to about it than laena?
the evening sun bathed casterly rock’s gardens in a golden glow, gilding the elaborate feast spread before the gathered women. myriam allyrion leaned back in her chair, her bronze lehenga shimmering as though it held the sunlight itself. the deep curve of the neckline left her tattoos on full display, curling up her neck like the roots of some exotic tree. she swirled her goblet of sweetened wine, a faint smile tugging at her lips as her dark eyes settled on the woman across from her—laena oldflowers.
“you know,” myriam began, her voice low and honeyed, as though the conversation was to remain between them. perhaps because she knew some would overhear them and judge laena so; no doubt they called her a great whore. “there are few things i’ve wondered about the reach, but i find you... endlessly fascinating.” she set the goblet down, leaning forward slightly, her golden jewellery catching the light with the movement. “not just for who you are, though that is interesting enough. the bastard sister of a king—how many tales have been spun about you, i wonder? but no, it’s your... arrangement with the tyrell king that truly intrigues me.”
her lips curved further, the smile verging on wicked. “tell me, lady laena, what is it like to live as a mistress in the reach?" the dornish were known for their relaxed nature when it came to matters of physicality, of sex and of lust; she did not blink an eye for the position which this woman had obtained, nor how she had managed to do it. what she was truly curious about was the reaction of the rest of the court; the reach seemed religious at surface level, but myriam knew all too well it were reachmen who seemed to find themselves fixated with dornish women.
always the first to grace their bedroom threshold, and the last to leave once they found themselves transfixed.
she leaned back again, her expression softening just slightly, though the curiosity in her gaze remained sharp as her dark cascade fell on either side of the curve of her blouse. she was in a state of complete relaxation speaking to the woman, a glimpse of her bare leg folded over the skirts; enough to see the glimpse of an anklet. “i ask because i’ve always wondered about freedom. what it looks like, what it feels like. in dorne, our ways are... different, of course. but even there, the weight of expectations are still a thing." her fingers played idly with the rim of her goblet as she spoke, her eyes never leaving laena’s face.
“but you, you seem to walk a path all your own. not bound by the rules that trap the rest of us. or am i mistaken?” she tilted her head, the question lingering like the heady scent of the roses surrounding them. if laena knew myriam well, she would be able to notice the slight glimmer in her vivid orbs indicated curiosity. a spark of life; her lips as sweet as the wine she found herself happily indulging in. she paused, then let out a low, throaty laugh as her hand moved over her lips, nails painted in a dark crimson. “forgive me, i’ve pried too much, haven’t i? it’s a flaw of mine—this insatiable curiosity. of all of us dornish, to be honest. but can you blame me?"
