#''The baron got caught after all -

[spyridonya]

Once upon a time, not very long ago in terms of the planes, Raphael once fully supported his father during a coup under Baron Molikroth. Baron Molikroth was a sadistic pit fiend in appearance, gluttonous and obscene, who began a rebellion under Mephistopheles' nose. When sorting through the dead Archfiend's bastards, Raphael was defiant, refusing to join against his father's killer despite the tides of change. Many of his siblings found favor under Molikroth, but Raphael honored his oath.

In the decade that followed, those who served Baron Molikroth were killed by Molikroth's own hand. The coup and persona of the baron was planned by Mephistopheles who posed at Molikroth to find who was loyal and who was not. Raphael survived the purge than many of his siblings did not. Unlike his siblings, Raphael recognized exactly what was going on with the baron. It wasn't a sense of loyalty but knowing his father remarkably well.

He is his father's son, after all.

And then Daddy Mephistopheles went and started the Reckoning.

[cosmic-navel-gazin]

@razielim:

Illustration of the soon-to-be Don Rumata in 200k word Hard To Be A God fixit fluff slowburn idiots to lovers Rumpa fic where Slavin does his best to assemble a tailor-laundry machine and it turns his young neighbor, historian-starpilot Anton, into a cat just before Anton is set to depart for his post in Arkanar. The Institute decides to send him on his mission anyway. This fic is written by an AU author where HTBAG is a major flagship fandom and has a huge readership of people crying, yelling, cooing about cat!Rumata.

ALKFKJKSHDLADNLAAKNDLAND

"The Institute decides to send him on his mission anyway." >>> I'M DEAD 💀 Yes, they're one mistake was sending people in without turning them into cats first! 🤣

Gabe I need you to know I am rotating your brain in my hands gently and kissing its many folds and crevices. This is the best. This is the best thing.

[kasagia]

Right hand

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!exBeneGesserit! reader Summary: You were his right-hand (wo)man after he saw you in combat during your training on the Bene Gesserit. He freed you from them and turned you from a Bene Gesserit into a faithful soldier who took care of all his dirty business. Getting rid of the bodies of the people he killed, organising opponents for him to fight, poor people on whom he could vent his anger and desire for bloodshed, or even concubines. You were his eyes and ears in the baron's court. You reported everything to him, being more effective than any Bene Gesserit. But he wants more... much more. Warning: 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; fight; brutality; smut; bathing together; dagger play; breeding kink? I guess; a lot things happening; my first time for Feyd so I'm a little nervous😅; enjoy!; Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART II ~•♤♤♤•~

It wasn't your choice to undergo Bene Gesserit training. Your mother abandoned you when you were a little baby and took you to these terrible women, leaving you to their mercy.

You hated them. Their entire organisation, which included planned breeding, aimed at creating the Kwisatz Haderach. To you, these women were a sick cult that you were reluctant to be a part of. You trembled with fear, thinking of the day when they would send you to extend the genetic line of a nobel family by lending your womb or to ensure that their plans succeeded.

However, you realised that you had little say in the matter. The Bene Gesserit would find you anywhere if you tried to run and hide. You were doomed to follow the orders of your crazy old reverend mother and wait in fear for the day when you could prove your usefulness.

But one day, you crossed paths with Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. And for a very long time, you considered it a real gift from fate. The first happy turn of events in your tragic life.

He was on a diplomatic mission. He was being shown around by the princess of your planet, and they happened to be attending the training of the Bene Gesserit sisters. You immediately caught his attention. Your movements were smoother, full of the passion of a true warrior. You charmed him so much that, at first, he thought you had put a spell on him. After seeing your potential and your obvious dislike for your sisters, he took you with him to Giedi Prime.

He faked your death so the Bene Gesserit sisters wouldn't come looking for you. He made you his right hand, his most trusted soldier. It was only after years of service under the Na-Baron that you realised that you had entered a much worse hell than any plans the Bene Gesserit had for you.

Feyd Rautha was supposed to be your personal devil. But first, you saw him as your saviour.

An animalistic, bloodthirsty scream resounds throughout the na-baron's private training room as his 'toy' falls dead under the blow she received from the furious man. You enter the room just as Feyd pierces him with his sword, causing drops of blood to land on your face.

You wipe them away, undeterred by the na-baron's brutality. Years of service had accustomed you to all the acts of cruelty he was capable of. At least this time, the dead man's entrails didn't spill around him. You hated calling his harpies to the feast. Despite so many years spent at the side of the baron's favourite nephew, you never got used to his concubines. They made you feel strangely uneasy.

"My lord, na-baron." You say, announcing your presence. Feyd breathes heavily and shifts his mad, furious gaze to you, not noticing your entrance until you speak.

You walk past the body, avoiding the pool of blood, and hand him a towel. He takes it from you without a word, wiping the sweat and blood from his head, chest, and back. You ignore his exposed muscles and kneel next to the man on whom he took out his anger, preparing to carry him out of the room before the next opponent/toy shows up.

"You were right. That old fool entrusted Arrakis to my brother. He will embarrass our family in one day. Ha! Even half is enough for him! This wretch doesn't know how to manage a small province, let alone an entire planet with fremen ready to attack at any corner." He says, rubbing himself furiously. He throws a towel into the corner of the room and walks to the table to pour himself something to drink.

"He gives him a chance to prove himself. When he wastes it, you will get it and prove to the baron and the lords that you are rightfully entitled to the title of baron." You say, securing the body so the guards at the door can carry it out.

"Every fool knows that. It's obvious that I'm a better choice than this scoundrel, who will sell the secrets of our family and swear allegiance to anyone who threatens his life. Baron throws a party in his honor. To the success of his mission. He's just doing it to piss me off. He doesn't give a damn about Rabban or whether he succeeds. This is just another of his tests on me. That's why you're coming with me. I've already sent for a dress for you." You look up at him with your surprised gaze. You're even more shocked when he reaches out his hand to help you up—something you didn't expect from him in his white, burning rage state.

"A dress?" You ask, taking his hand. You hold your breath, keeping yourself from gasping, as he lifts you off the floor with one strong pull. Unprepared, you bump completely onto his chest, not being able to keep your balance.

You freeze at the feeling of his muscled body close to yours. You can feel his heart pounding in his chest from the adrenaline he felt while killing this poor man. You tense up, seeing his icy-blue eyes already staring at yours. He starts giggling darkly as he presses you tighter against him so you can feel every muscle of his.

"Is there a problem? Would you prefer to come naked? I wouldn't mind, but…”

"I'm simply surprised that you want me there officially. I usually sneak there. I watch from the shadows. Well, you know." You interrupt me before he can insinuate anything, and with his silent permission, you move a decent distance away from him, leaving his arms.

You always had to be careful when making moves like this. You saw how he punished for minor offences, just for breathing. And you didn't run away from the Bene Gesserit with him to lose your life because of one of his… impulses. Although he has never put you in any serious danger, which was strangly amazing, since all of the servants who worked for him (and are still alive) have experienced his wrath on their bodies at least once.

"I know. But this time, I need you by my side. Not in hiding. My birthday is coming up—the most important of them all. I want to know what my uncle will come up with. Maybe you can find out something from the Lords. Besides, why wouldn't I want to have such beauty on my arm?"

"You want a woman by your side so you can humiliate your brother before he leaves? Perpetuate in him a sense of belief that you are superior, even if you don't have power over Arrakis right now?"

You see his hands tighten on his blades. You purse your lips, realising you were too quick to question his intentions. Basic mistake. You shouldn't have tested the waters when you knew Feyd was already on the end of his patience.

He takes a step towards you, entering your personal space. You swallow and lift your head to meet his gaze. This wasn't the first time he had intimidated you, tested you, carefully gauged your reaction, and waited until he finally saw the fear in your eyes. But you never gave him that satisfaction. If the Bene Gesserit taught you anything, it was that fear was weakness. A weakness you could tame... at least enough not to show it to anyone else.

So you endure his piercing, burning gaze with indifference. You stay like that even after a small smirk starts to appear on his face. You wonder how many people before you saw that smirk and stared into those night-black eyes on Giedi Prime as they passed from this world.

"That pink little tongue of yours will get you into trouble one day, my little witch." He purrs, his tone low and dangerous. He reaches up to your face with his free hand and gently runs his hand through your hair, caressing your cheek and jaw with the pad of his thumb. "Possible. I'm a na-baron... don't I deserve the best?" He looks defiantly at you, throwing you the proverbial gauntlet. He's waiting for you to stumble. For open defiance of his order.

You don't understand why, but he's been acting like this more and more lately. He made ambiguous comments, carefully watching your reaction. It was something new—a change in his behaviour that you hadn't figured out the reason for yet. But you had too much on your mind to think about it any longer.

"I can prepare you a beautiful concubine perfect for Giedi Prime standards." You suggest at which he shakes his head, laughing hoarsely. He turns his back to you and pours himself another glass of water.

"It's not necessary. I want you. Go and get ready. I'll join you in two hours when I'm done here." He says just as the door opens to reveal the soldiers you called for to take the body away and who have brought him a new drugged opponent. Feyd licks his lips, flips the blade up, and catches it, making a little show before lunging at his toy.

"As you wish, my na-baron." You say before leaving him to get ready for the party. Another warrior's scream echoes off the walls of the chamber as Feyd unleashes his anger on him.

You scan the room carefully, standing with your glass against the wall in a more crowded part of the room. You try your best to blend in with the crowd, but with your hair down, it's not that easy. Even if you try to cover your hair, you can feel people's curious gazes on you. But the worst ones are the burning gazes of the lords on you, some of them too lustful to be able to feel comfortable.

If you could, you would hide in the shadows, as usual, and observe them without being the centre of attention. You felt like a monkey in a circus or an exotic animal at an exhibition. The cold hand on your shoulder reminds you why you can't do this. You turn around to once again meet the na-baron's intense gaze today.

"You look good." He says as his eyes carefully scan the black latex dress with cutouts on the sides that reach down to your hipbones. "But I don't remember having that metal corset disguised as armour and that ridiculous chain veil sent to you along with the dress."

"I almost mistook this rag for a nightgown. I had to wear something on it. They think I'm your whore anyway; we don't have to prove it to them." You respond to his taunt and turn towards him. He is wearing black, formal armour, which is perfect as an official outfit.

"Do you find it scandalous to be my whore, little witch? Maybe even disgusting?" You meet his gaze to roll your eyes at him, at which he chuckles, wrapping his arms around your waist. You don't like this closeness, but there's nothing you can do to push his hand off of you. You are in public. Such a gesture towards him would be equivalent to a death sentence.

"I see nothing... honourable or good in being anyone's whore, my na-baron." You say, gently moving away from him so as not to lean on him as much.

"Have you seen anything noteworthy?" He asks, unfazed by your trying to move away from him. He pulls you up, wrapping his arms around your waist tighter and making your back rest against his chest. His fingertips brush against the exposed skin, caressing your hipbone.

You frown, turning your head to look at him. He's never been so... clingy before. He always respected your personal space and never touched you. You blame it on his desire to tease his brother, who is staring at you intently from across the room, and you shift your gaze to the people present at the party.

"Several lords congratulated your brother. However, there are rumours and beliefs that he will not be up to the task. Some also believe that you will slit his throat before his ship leaves for Arrakis."

"This idea crossed my mind. If you hadn't brought this information to me earlier, you would probably have had to deal with making the public believe in his… tragic and sudden death from natural causes."

"Natural causes; I wish I could see that." You scoff, finishing your drink. You turn around, leaving his arms, and set your glass down on the table. When you turn to him again, he holds out his hand for you to take.

"You'll see if you don't entertain me. I'm bored, and looking at this smug idiot isn't helping my patience or my ability to restrain myself. Dance with me, my little witch."

"You're interrupting my work." You complain, taking his hand. He leads you to the dance floor and spins you around, pulling you tight against his chest. He holds you close to him, perfectly placing his steps and moving to the beat of the music. He is as fluid in dancing as he is in fighting. Flawless as always.

"I'm your work. You are my right hand; you meet all my needs. I don't think I need to remind you of that, do I?" He asks in challenge, taking your chin between his two fingers as he looks at you carefully. You only smile at him in a sweet, artificial way. He laughs, fully aware of how fake this act is, and drops your chin.

Over the years, you discovered that he liked it when you teased him and responded to his taunts with your own. Of course, only when no one could hear it, and not very often. He had a reputation to uphold. He couldn't afford for anyone to see his right-hand (wo)man mocking him. Unbeknownst to you, he found it adorable the way your eyes lit up whenever you did something mischievous.

"Of course not, my na-baron."

"Good." He nods at your words. He takes his eyes off you for a moment and focuses on something behind your shoulder. He leans down, his cheek brushing against yours. You shiver at the sudden closeness, his scent becoming more distinct as you inhale it wholeheartedly. It's captivating. Sweet. Intoxicating. Dangerous. Just like him. "Do you have your daggers?" His hot whisper reaches your ear. He's so close, you can almost feel his full lips brush against your earlobe.

"Yes, why?" You ask, perfectly masking the tremble in your voice. But you doubt whether you can hide from him how your heartbeat speeds up. You blame it on the adrenaline rush. Not fear caused by his proximity.

"It seems to me that you will soon have to prove to these imbeciles once again why I chose you to be my right-hand man." He explains as the song ends.

You feel him reluctantly release you from his embrace and take a step away from you. You turn around and see his brother walking towards you, his right hand following him, giving you a mischievous look and a lecherous, mocking smile when he sees your outfit. You straighten up, lifting your head proudly at the man in a similar position to yours. The difference between you was that you served the stronger Harkonnen. It would give you an inviolably higher position if, like them, you had a penis between your legs.

"Brother. You finally brought your pet to play with us." Rabban says, nodding to his brother. You feel a wave of disgust as his gaze lingers on you longer.

Feyd tenses, furious, as his brother's eyes are all on you. You wouldn't have noticed if his hand hadn't been on your hip bone a moment later, hiding some of your exposed skin from his brother's eyes. You wonder what his problem might be. After all, he chose this dress for you by himself.

"Be careful. She doesn't have a muzzle. I would prefer that no harm come to you before you go to Arrakis. She's got some pretty... sharp teeth." He says it condescendingly, pulling you closer to him. In a perfect world, you'd kick them both in the groin. Unfortunately, you don't have that luxury. You can only imagine putting these two pseudo-alpha males in their place. But how sweet these dreams are...

"What about a small competition? My man against yours? Let's see what this mysterious beauty that you keep hidden can really do." Rabban's right-hand man gives you a cocky, confident look. He plays with the dagger in his hand, making a poor show that was intended to intimidate you. You roll your eyes behind your metal chain veil and shift your gaze to Feyd. You are only subject to his orders. Not some weak, pathetic creatures.

"This party is already dead. Do you want to kill also YOUR pet?" Feyd mocks him, and you almost break your unflappable, emotionless attitude, barely holding back your laughter. Na-baron sees this and smiles to himself, rubbing circles with the pad of his thumb on your hipbone.

"Are you afraid that she won't heat your bed anymore?" Feyd narrows his eyes at him. You feel his fingertips dig painfully into your hip as he tries to keep himself from lunging at his brother with the blade. You know full well that the eyes of the lords, the baron, and most of the people at the party are turned towards you.

"I have no doubt whatsoever about the outcome of this little skirmish. She will just sweat unnecessarily. And I would rather have her in full strength tonight." He says it in a mocking tone, shifting his gaze towards you. He licks his lips and tightens his grip to make his lewd intentions towards you clear to the two men.

Despite his famous reputation, he never touched you. Giedi Prime society might have thought otherwise, but in the years you had served as his right-hand man, he had never once taken you to bed or had you entertain him at night. You appreciated it immensely, which is why you accepted such behaviour from him without batting an eyelid whenever you were in public. It was all a game to maintain the reputation he had built over the years. Or so you thought.

"Feyd, boy, release your pet. Let her entertain us." The baron's words interrupt any skirmish that might have developed between the brothers.

It was not uncommon at Giedi Prime parties for soldiers to fight against each other to entertain the crowd. You just didn't think that you would have to fight someone during your first official arrival at the party. Although you should have anticipated such an unexpected turn of events. The baron and Rabban would not miss the opportunity to find out how much you were really worth and why Feyd, out of all the talented soldiers, chose the Bene Gesserit as his right-hand man.

You send a quick glance at Feyd. He gives you a small nod, so you bow to the baron and prepare to fight. The crowd around you parts to form a circle. You feel people's excitement as you flip the metal chains from your face to your hair, revealing more of your face. You wrap the shawl around your hair, tying it tighter and making sure it won't get in the way of your fight.

You look at your opponent, who is also preparing, trying to spot any of his weak points before the fight even begins. Rabban says something in his ear, which causes the manly smile to grow. Feyd stands in front of you, blocking your view of them. You look into his steel blue eyes as he leans towards you.

"Don't hold back." He whispers in your ear, handing you his blade. "And finish it quickly. We have other things to do."

You nod at him. He walks away from you, sending a mocking smirk at your opponent. He spreads his arms, taking a few steps back, as if inviting him to try his hand at you. You feel the burning gaze of his eyes on your back as you position yourself in front of the man.

"Don't worry, witch. If I win, I won't kill you. It's a shame to waste such a pretty face. I wonder if you're as good as the rumours say. Your pussy must be good to keep the na-baron entertained for so long." He says, waiting for you to activate your shield. But you don't do this. You want to completely humiliate him and give everyone in the room a clear message about your power and that you didn't secure your place just by having a pretty face. The crowd cheers, but you think you can hear Feyd growl furiously amidst the shouts of approval.

"I doubt you'll have the chance to find out." You say, and without waiting for his next words, you attack.

After the first few attacks, you figure out his tactics. He is physically strong, it's true, but that's his only advantage. It attacks you in a learned way, repeating its patterns. You read him quickly and position yourself to use his strength and mass against him. You could have walked up to him a long time ago and slit his throat, but you know it would be much better if you had some fun with him. You will show that you have complete control over the course of this fight.

You dodge the man's punches, and after a few minutes, you quickly get bored when you once again manage to kick him and send him to his knees. You take advantage of the moment he gets up from the floor to glance at your na-baron. Feyd doesn't look happy with your introduction. Of course, you see his interested look and how he appreciates your skills, but he doesn't look at you like he usually does. He doesn't wait with bated breath for your next move, like the crowd around you does. You can tell from his face that he wants you to finish this as soon as possible. You frown, surprised that he of all people doesn't enjoy watching the fight. You wonder what the hell is wrong with him.

Your moment of inattention is, of course, immediately exploited by your opponent. You manage to fend off the man's blade, but not his kick, which sends you landing on your butt on the floor. You feel rage more than pain; you only see red when you hear the cocky laugh of the man you are fighting with. You're so focused on driving the blade into his body that you don't notice Feyd's angry look, the murder in his eyes, and the desire to rip your opponent apart with his own hands as you fall to the floor. And you certainly don't see the trembling of his hand, as he instinctively wanted to grab you and pull you safely behind him.

You strike once, quickly driving the blade into the man's stomach and leaving it there. You push him to his knees, push away the hand that holds the sword, and reach for the dagger hidden in the sleeve of your dress. You strike a second time, piercing his shoulder. You stick the second dagger into his hand and knock the weapon out of his hand, taking it from him. You grab the man's throat in a tight grip and tilt his head back. You lean over him, a mocking smirk on your face as he struggles to breathe.

"I didn't even take off my high heels." You mocked him as you slit his throat.

You smile victoriously as you decapitate him. His head rolls at your feet, blood splattering your dress and face as you breathe heavily. You sigh, feeling your heart pound in your chest, as you bow to the crowd surrounding you as they shout and applaud you. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Rabban's sour, angry expression. You kick the head of his right hand towards him and give him a small smirk. You stand upright as you meet the eyes of your na-baron.

And then you saw it. Hunger in his eyes. Pure lust and desire, as his pupils were wide and solemnly focused on you.

You knew that gaze. He only looked like that at things he really wanted. Only his favourite concubines got THAT look from him or a beautiful, precisely made weapon that fit perfectly in his hands. Usually he had that look in his eyes right after the great battle he won. He would lock himself with his concubines and then spend long hours in his chambers, giving himself completely to his primal instincts.

You shiver as he walks towards you, ignoring anything else in the room. He grabs you tightly by the throat, and, to the delight of the drunken crowd who are screaming madly with excitement after the show you had made, he kisses you.

It is hard, hungry, and passionate. His hand completely removes the metal chains and shawl that were covering your head, and he pulls you to him as close as possible. His grip on your hair and throat is tight as he demands that your mouth be opened for him by biting your lower lip. You moan involuntarily, causing his tongue to slip into your mouth, as he is exploring new territory with a zeal you've never seen from him.

He pulls away from you when you're completely out of breath. Your vision is blurry, your heart is pounding from the adrenaline of the fight, and you can only stare at him stupidly and blankly while trying to understand what just happened.

Your eyes widen as he licks his lips, lust still burning in his eyes as he takes in your panting form and swollen, red lips. A trickle of blood drips from your mouth after he bit into it a few minutes ago. As you taste your blood on your tongue, you realise the terrifying truth.

Feyd Rautha Harkonnen desired you.

Feyd strokes your neck, which is still in his tight grip. His eyes travel from your lips to your neck, to your collarbones, to the valley of your breasts, and to your hips, which were starting to bruise from how tightly he held them in the moments before your fight. Suddenly, everything starts to fall into place for you. His strange, unusual behaviour, the flirtatious comments, the long stares, and his more frequent attempts to hold you close to him and touch your exposed skin are starting to make sense.

You were screwed.

Completely and utterly fucked up.

You've been avoiding him since that night. More than any Reverend Mother or Bene Gesserit. Which was a very difficult task, considering how many things you had to do as his right hand.

But, luckily, you managed to avoid being alone with him. Of course, it couldn't last long. You knew him very well, and you knew that eventually he would try something and come for you. But you tried to deceive yourself by living the lie that his desire would pass and his concubines would effectively take care of him.

If he noticed your attempts to stay away from him, he never mentioned it. Of course, he chased after you when he saw you walking alone down the hall, but you never gave him a chance to catch up with you. He may have grown up here, but you knew the palace like the back of your hand. And all the nooks and crannies you could hide in from him.

So you actually managed not to get close to him for a very long time. Until it was time to train a unit of soldiers directly subordinate to him.

"Y/N!!!" You're sure all of Giedi Prime could have heard his scream. You sigh, calming down as you continue your walk to the arena. You step out into the black sun, carefully watching the men training. You walk up to him and bow to him.

"My lord na-baron." You say it politely, unfazed by the fact that he's practically seething with rage. You were more used to dealing with him like this than when he was horny... or worse, kind. You would turn on your shield if you knew it wouldn't make him fall over the edge and start murdering everyone he could.

"Take your blade. None of these piles of useless muscles know basic defensive moves. Look, you all! You have to learn this by the end of the day, or next time you will enter this arena as my opponent!" He walks over to one of them, probably to either stab him or adjust his position, leaving you to get ready. You tie your hair up so it doesn't bother you during a fight and choose your blade.

You gasp in surprise when you are suddenly pushed. You turn around quickly, trying to keep your balance as you face the na-baron. You move your hand to activate your shield, but his voice stops you:

"Don't. I have to show them how to do it. No shield." You know he's lying, and that's not why he doesn't want you to turn on your shield, but you don't say anything. You just nod and prepare to get into a defensive position.

He attacks you quickly. Very quickly. You've trained with him before, and you have to admit, he's never been this… brutal with you.

You go through different positions with him until you finally stop following the textbook fighting patterns and start fighting seriously. You keep up with his movements for a long time, blocking his blade with yours and dodging attacks that you have no physical ability to block, but he keeps pressing against you, not letting you rest or trying to return the favour with one of your attacks.

You gasp in surprise when he trips you, sending you to the ground. You block his swing at you with your blade and kneel in the sand, trying to get up, but he's pressing too hard against you with his sword for you to move. You use all your strength to push him away from you. Feyd growls, throwing his sword aside, and simply lunges at you. You're too shocked to do anything as he snatches the blade from your hand and sits on top of you.

You fight him, sending both of you rolling in the sand. Eventually, he gets impatient and wraps his hand around your throat. You take a hoarse breath as he blocks your airway. You grab his hand around your neck and try to pull it away. You dig your nails into his palm, but he remains unmoved, pinning you to the sand.

He leans closer to you, and you take the opportunity to wrap your hand around his neck. He laughs, showing you his black teeth as he practically lays on top of you. His erection presses hard against your thigh as he grinds against you, grunting as he too begins to feel the need for air... and something more. You see black spots in front of your eyes, and you feel tears welling up in your eyes as you struggle to breathe.

You let go of his neck completely, your hand falling next to your head, and you desperately try to use the remaining air to try and use your Bene Gesserit voice on him. But before you try to say anything, he loosens his grip so you can breathe, but his fingers are still lightly holding your neck.

Too busy breathing, you don't notice how he tilts his face towards you. Only when you feel his tongue on your neck do you realise how close he is to you. You freeze when he runs his tongue from your neck, from jaw to cheek, to taste your tears. You hear him moan softly. To confirm that your brain, stunned by lack of oxygen, didn't make it all up on its own, he rubs against you, and his hardness in his pants is clearly felt by you.

You just fucking hope he doesn't fuck you in front of those soldiers.

You meet his black eyes with yours. You shiver as he leans in, his bare chest pressed completely against you as he whispers into your ear.

"Damn you, witch... if you taste as sweet as your tears..." He growls. You feel dizzy, and you're not sure if it's because of the heat of the moment, the fact that he cut you off from oxygen for a while, or because you're overwhelmed by his scent and the warmth that radiates from the two of you.

You thank whoever is above you as he finally pulls away from you and stands up. He gives you his hand and helps you stand on your two feet. The soldiers obediently look at the ground, not daring to face the na-baron's gaze. You swallow hard, pulling your hand from his grasp.

Feyd barks orders at them, herding them back to training. You breathe a sigh of relief when he stops paying attention to you. You use your shawl to wipe his saliva and your sweat from your neck. You take your blade and are about to leave the arena to do the rest of your duties. But a tight grip on your wrist stops you. You tense up and turn around to face him again.

"Y/N." He murmurs, watching you carefully. You're sure that bruises are starting to appear on your neck from his tight squeeze. "Come to my chambers tonight." A cold shiver runs through you, but all you can do is nod and watch his retreating figure as he leaves to continue the training.

You hoped he didn't mean what you thought he meant by that... invitation. Otherwise, this could be your last night on Giedi Prime or the last night of your life. You're not sure yet.

For the first time, you feel fear as you walk to his chambers. He had called for you at such times before, but it never occurred to you that he wanted to do with you something else than discuss with you matters that were related to the Giedi Prime Court, the baron's plans, or other political matters and plots.

You shudder, wondering what might be waiting behind that door. You saw the condition in which some of his concubines left him. You didn't want to become one of them; you didn't want to be reduced to being his lover. It was fine as it was. You felt very good as his shadow, ears, and eyes. You liked conspiring together with him, making plans, and that hrill each time you managed to take down the enemies that were standing in your way. He was supposed to be your savior, not your persecutor. Were you that naive from the beginning, or has everything started going to shit recently?

The guards let you through without saying a word. With your heart pounding, you enter his chambers.

He's sitting on the bed. His harpies finish taking off his clothes, and at first you want to back away, but as soon as his gaze meets yours, you freeze. Feyd snaps at one of them. She hands him a glass of his wine while the others look at you furiously.

"Leave." He tells them, never taking his eyes off you. The women look at each other, not wanting to leave him, especially leave him alone with you. You guess that if it weren't for Feyd's presence, they would have attacked you long ago, trying to eat you before their master got a chance to touch you. Disgust arouses in you as you think that you may be soon reduced to their role and turned into one of them. "I said something." He growls at them, shifting his gaze from you to give them an angry glare.

The harpies are going out obediently, but they are not wasting an opportunity to hiss at you as they pass you to get to the exit. You hear one of them scream in pain as Feyd suddenly throws a knife at them right before they close the door behind them.

You were more used to his brutal reflexes than to his tender gestures. You actually preferred him being aggressive more. At least you could have predicted his movement. That's why you didn't even blink when he threw a blade at his pets.

"You wanted to see me." You start when you are alone. If you could impress him with anything other than your fighting skills and the ability to obtain various information by staying in the shadows, it would be that you never showed fear or insecurity. At least not to those who don't know you. Almost no one could read you. Almost.

However, Feyd saw that you were behaving differently. But he was tired of controlling himself around you. He couldn't do it anymore after tasting your lips, tasting your skin mixed with tears, and feeling your curves press against him. He wanted more. Much more than he ever got from you. And he was going to take it, whether you wanted it or not. He won't go crazy with lust for you... or at least not with as much longing for you each night as he used to.

"I did..." He stands up, and you're grateful he's at least wearing underwear as he walks over to his bar and pours a second glass of wine. He hands it to you and taps it with his own. He takes a few sips and looks at you. After a while, he sits down on his bed again and swirls his glass, playing with the remains of the wine. "Baron wants me to find a wife." He announces calmly, staring at you intently as he finishes his wine with one big sip.

You almost choke on your drink. You place your glass on the table and meet the careful gaze of his cold, blue eyes. You feel yourself starting to get hot with nerves.

"I beg you pardon?" You ask, still reeling from the shock of this sudden information.

"He wants me to find a broodmare who will bear my heirs since I am getting close to the appropriate age." He repeats, standing up gracefully. He approaches you, his steps slow and measured, as if he were approaching his prey in an arena. And for a moment, that's exactly how you feel. But you show no fear or any other emotion as he stops a few inches in front of you. You straighten up, your muscles tensing as you think about any answer.

"I… I can make the necessary preparations and check which high families…"

"Strip." He orders you. His tone is hoarse, leaving no room for any objection. He talks just as if he were asking you to pass him the dagger rather than to stand naked in front of him. As if it was an order he carried out every day and something you should be used to following.

"What?" You ask stupidly, unable to process what he said to you in your head.

"Have you gone deaf? Undress. Take your clothes off." He repeats mockingly. He crosses his arms, takes a few steps back, and leans against the wooden post of his bed as he watches you carefully, waiting for you to either obey his order or openly disobey him, giving him the opportunity to punish you... as if he even needed a reason to do so.

"My na-baron, I..."

"Exactly, Y/N. I am your na-baron. So follow my order. Now. I'm not in the mood for our games. You think I haven't noticed you've been playing hide-and-seek lately? I have given much worse punishments for such disobedience and attempts at self-indulgence. Take your clothes off, or I'll rip them from you."

For a moment, there is a deathly silence in his chambers. Only your breathing can be heard as you try to find any way out of this situation. But you can't think of anything. Your mind is empty, your hands are shaking a little, and all you can do is look at him, silently begging him to change his mind. A frown of impatience appears on his forehead, and you know you have to do something before he gets irritated and cuts you with one of his blades.

You sigh softly as you reach for the laces of your shirt. You take your time, slowly untying your bindings. Feyd devours every bit of skin you expose to him, and you swear you hear him hold his breath as your shirt lands on the floor. You get out of your shoes and socks very slowly.

Luckily, he doesn't comment on it and lets you get out of his clothes at your own pace. He knows he will win anyway. Tonight, he will finally stop playing cat and mouse with you and put his hands on what is rightfully his. So he savours every moment, making a plan in his head for what he will do to you tonight for this small act of rebellion.

He licks his lips as you stand in front of him in nothing but black underwear. His eyes take in your every curve, skin lesions, and scars that mark your warrior body. Oh yes. He was going to enjoy this night and finally unwrap his early birthday present.

"Good girl. You know where the bathroom is, right?" Without waiting for your response, he goes there, expecting you to follow him.

You swallow hard. You're glad that at least you managed to stay in your underwear and that you're not completely naked in front of him. You get out of your pile of clothes and leisurely follow him to the bathroom.

As soon as you enter, the door closes itself behind you. You sigh, the sweet smell of bath salts reaching your nostrils. But you don't feel so relaxed when the coolness of the bathroom and the black marble you stand barefoot on make you shiver and your nipples harden.

The na-baron's dark chuckle catches your attention. He's in a large, black bathtub, his hands resting on its edges as he enjoys the warm water, watching you closely, a spark of amusement shining in his icy blue eyes. He looks like a vulture waiting for the best moment to kill his prey.

"It had been a long day. Join me." He says, lifting his hand for you to take and step into the tub.

Having no choice, you obediently reach for his hand and release it as quickly as you can, sitting on the other side of the bathtub with your legs tucked under you so as not to accidentally touch him. He laughs, shaking his head in amusement.

"Not so far, my little mouse. Closer. I won't bite… well, not yet."

"I'm not a mouse." You snap at him. If you're going to die, at least die with dignity. Blinded by your anger at him, you sit on his lap before you can think it through. It's only his hardness pressing against your ass that makes you realize what a mistake you've made. You don't show your discomfort, though; you even lean against his chest, letting your head rest on his shoulder.

He laughs softly, wrapping his arms around you just as the skin of your back meets his chest. You feel like you're in a cage, even though he's trying to calm you down by lazily drawing patterns on the skin of your arms. Your underwear soaks up the water and sticks to you, making you feel even more uncomfortable.

"Hand me my dagger."

You much prefer receiving such orders from him. You get up from the bathtub to get away from him for a moment, but he stops you by grabbing your hips tightly. He shakes his head and nods towards the dagger, which is literally at his fingertips. You bite your lip, keeping yourself from talking back at him, and reach for the weapon, handing it to him. You do this carefully, not wanting to cut the skin of your fingertips with the very sharp blade.

He cuts through the fabric of your bra with surgical grace. You gasp in outrage but don't move, knowing full well that you are only millimetres away from him taking your blood. You don't have to turn around to know he's smiling cockily as he traces the tip of his dagger across your skin to your panties.

"You know I can take it off by myself?" You ask as he traces patterns with the tip of his dagger on your stomach, around your navel. You hold your breath as he rests his chin on your shoulder and pulls you closer to him, rubbing against your still-clothed ass. You learn the hard way that the rumours about his... greatness were true.

"You had your chance at the beginning, now it's my turn. You're lucky that I'm not taking it off of you with my teeth anyway." He growls in your ear. You shiver as he presses a wet kiss on your shoulder, peppering kisses on your skin, down to your neck, and down to your jawbone before he rests his chin on your shoulder again.

"Sorry for interrupting your fun, my na-baron." You growl as he hooks the tip of his dagger against the fabric of your panties.

"No worries; you will compensate me in another way." He says, cutting your panties. He throws them behind him and lazily presses the dagger against your jawbone, forcing you to turn your head to look at him.

You meet his blue eyes with yours. His irises are practically non-existent, giving way entirely to his dilated, black pupils. He stares at you hungrily, licking his lips. He looks lost and indecisive, as if he didn't know what to do first.

His other hand, the one not holding the dagger pressed against your neck and jaw, explores your body, caressing your skin as if it were some kind of precious silk. You sigh as he cups your breast, which, of course, fits perfectly in his hand. You want to punch him in the face, but the dagger at your throat reminds you that one wrong move could cost you dearly. So you take his hand in yours instead, stopping him from over-exploring.

"You know... I tried to stay away from you. From the first moment I saw you... fighting with those daggers of yours... you're not as graceful in dancing as you are with them in your hands, taking down all your enemies. But you are Bene Gesserit. I know you're dangerous. So damn dangerous... if I were anyone else, you'd use your voice on me and tell me to castrate myself. Or you could make me magically disappear by throwing myself off some tall tower just because I thwarted your plans or looked at you wrong. Surprised? You may live in the shadows, my little witch, but I won't miss anything you do. You know I have trouble controlling myself... so how can I do that when you're so damn irresistible? The fact that I've endured all these years and not gotten close to you the way I wanted—the way I dreamed so many times at night—is quite a success, don't you think?"

He massages your breast, playing with it. You bite your lip, holding back a moan as he pinches your nipple. He leans closer to you, pressing his nose against your neck and inhaling your scent deeply. He removes his hand from your breast and moves your connected body along your body. You gasp, tightening your grip on his as he brushes your clit gently with his fingertip.

"I… I should go." You mumble, squirming in his grip, which is, of course, pointless and only makes him groan in pleasure as your ass rubs against his hard, leaking member.

"Stay. You won't oppose your na-baron, will you?" The bastard knows well that you won't openly oppose him, and he uses it as best he can. He moves your joined hands to his length, forcing you to wrap your hand around him. He hisses, pressing the blade closer to your throat and tightening his grip on your hand as he guides yours along his length the way he wants. "Your skin is so soft… and that beautiful hair that you needlessly hide… you don't know how many times I imagined pulling you by it." He mumbles into your neck. The hand with the dagger now presses against your chest, only causing your heart to beat much faster. A wave of heat washes over you, your traitorous pussy clenching desperately as you hear his moans in your ear.

"Feyd..." You moan as his hand releases yours and works at your desperate pussy. He growls, feeling the warmth of your walls around his fingers and the wetness he caused. You remove your hand from his member and tighten your grip on his hand, trying to push him away from your private parts in a desperate attempt to regain control of the situation.

"Don't fight. Just give yourself to me, Y/N. Let me show you how much you've lost while trying to hide yourself from me in your shadows…" He growls, pressing the tip of the dagger to your nipple. You freeze, moaning as he becomes stiffened by the sheer movement of his blade.

He bites into your neck, making you moan loudly and throwing your head back. He licks and sucks your neck, rubbing his painfully hard cock against your pussy. The water splashes around you, some of it spilling out of the tub due to his sudden movements. A few inches deeper, and he would have slammed into you, bisecting you with his huge cock, which stood ready for you from the moment he saw you in your underwear.

"Can you feel it? Can you feel what you're doing to me? How hard I am because of you? It's like this every time you hand me my blade, perfectly balanced and sharpened, every time you meet all my needs without even communicating with me, you just know what I want by looking at me, my little witch. So tell me, who is a better partner for me than my right hand? Who can I trust more than you? Who should I fuck, full of my heirs, if not you?"

You don't respond; you can't find any words as your brain desperately tries to shout out the pleasure he's giving you and force you to resist him. Unsuccessfully. The warmth of the water, his body, his scent, and his precise, deliberate movements cut off your thoughts. Feyd is practically salivating at the sight of you so lost in lust and desire as he witnesses you lose control for the first time.

He throws away the dagger, which falls with a crash onto the marble floor. Neither of you care as he grabs your hips and, in one smooth, quick movement, turns you around so you can face him.

You only have time to draw in a quick breath before he demands your mouth. You moan into his lips as he kisses you with the same passion and intensity as he did a few weeks ago at the party after you won the fight. You try to pull away from him, but he holds you tightly, placing his hands on your back as he presses you against him. You don't stand a chance against his strength. You can resist him, but you know it won't be long before you collapse from exhaustion. You bite his lip until you draw blood, which only causes him to groan and have him grind against you, the tip of his cock teasing your entrance.

You gasp as he leaves your lips for a while and pulls your hair, exposing your throat to him so he can mark it even more. He sucks on your skin, littering it with hickeys as you feel him slowly move, positioning himself beneath you so that his member presses against the entrance of your pussy.

And just as he's about to join your bodies, to make you two one, to feel your hot, wet, tight walls around him, there's a knock on the bathroom door.

This time, he's the one who freezes, tightening his hold on you. You feel like he's making sure he hasn't misheard or imagined it in this heated moment between you, but when the knocking sounds a second time, he realises it's real.

You pray with gratitude for the soul of the fool who dared to interrupt him, because you know that even if it were something important, he would not live to see the morning.

"What?!" He growls furiously, not letting you go, not letting you move an inch from him, still believing that he can quickly get rid of the intruder and go back to ravaging you, maybe even fucking you while he talks to whoever is standing in front of that damned door. Though Feyd preferred to be fully focused on you when he took you for the first time. However, he was convinced that if he didn't feel you around him soon, he would go crazy. He is so close... all he had to do was push a little more...

"My lord na-baron. The Baron wants to see you. It's very important."

You see pure rage bubbling in his eyes. He growls, shifting you from his lap as he stands up. You look down as you see all of him very clearly, especially what you were exposed to a few moments ago. He throws a towel at you, and you automatically catch it. He wraps one around his waist before he comes back to you again and grabs your throat. He gives you a crazy, passionate kiss, stroking your neck and appreciating the marks he made before pulling away from you.

"We'll come back to it, little witch." He leaves you with that promise, closing the door behind him with a bang.

You hear him shouting something at his harpies, and you shudder at the thought of having to walk past them to get out of here. You lean back against the tub, still sitting in the now-cold water, as you slowly process everything that happened.

You succeeded this time, but you know you won't be so lucky next time. You could either accept... your new responsibilities and his expectations of you, or you could try to break free from him, risking your life.

It was a decision to be made in the privacy of your own chambers. For now, you let yourself lie in the cool water, fully aware that if you weren't interrupted now, he would fuck you silly, likely planting his seed inside you.

You ran away from the Bene Gesserit with him because you didn't want to be a whore, a vessel for their crazy breeding plan. Apparently, you just changed the owner of your womb. You had to do something if you didn't want to end up as originally intended—as the mother of the future Kwisatz Haderach.

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Blood Sport

Feyd Rautha x Y/N - drabble part 6 - 1.8K WC NSFW 18+

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6 (you are here!)

Masterlist

Warnings: marriage, SMUT, biting, blood drinking, penetration, oral (female receiving), Feyd being whipped as fuck for you, L bombs, rough sex, fluffy ending

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You smoothed over the layers of your dress. The black and red layered fabric made you look gorgeous, ethereal almost. All the sparkles and shimmers on the dress caught the light off the black sun just right. You still felt nervous but after talking with Feyd last night your heart was more at ease. You felt as if you could truly accept Geidi Prime as your home, and rule it one day. Maybe make it more like Succo, make it better. You looked to the door as it slid open, a maid walking inside with a small jar full of blood. 

“Who’s?” you asked as you lifted her off the ground with your magic, dragging her closer to you faster than she could move. 

Her shaking hands gave you the jar of inky blood, “T-the Na-Baron’s mistress…” she said quickly.

You held the jar, it was still slightly warm. You smiled softly, “That’ll be all.” you said, setting the maid down as you dismissed her. As soon as the door slid shut you flicked the lid off the jar, savoring the flavor of him as you gulped it down. You never got tired of his taste. You licked over your lips as you finished the jar, leaning your head back. The irony taste melted on your tongue, your eyes fluttering shut at the warmth. You saw flashes of Feyd’s body, like perfect ivory. There was nothing white on Succo but you were in love with the color, especially on him. You saw his hands running over himself, his rippling muscles before you heard a faint whisper fall from his mouth, 

“Y/N” 

It was the most seductive tone you’d ever heard from him. Wanting and whimpering and absolutely dripping with lust. Right before you saw his hand run over his abs and dip down further the visions stopped.

Tease.

“Princess. It’s time.” said a guard who you hadn’t noticed, so deeply lost in your visions. 

You followed the man, looking at yourself one more time in the mirror. You tilted your head up, adjusting your black diamond crown. The one that had been in your family since the full Sanguines were in power on Succo. The Cruor were fearless, as were you. And yet, this was quite possibly the first time you felt real fear. A comfortable fear. As if you were leaping into the unknown and hoped Feyd was there to catch you in the end. Before you could stew on your new found fear, the doors to the Great Hall opened. You saw hundreds of Harkonnens, they filled the hall and all watched as you walked down the lengthy aisle towards Feyd. He looked sharp in his all black ensemble. The Baron and Reverend Mother stood to the right of him and the officiant. Feyd’s eyes never left yours. You walked with your head held high, exuding confidence as you represented your house. 

The ceremony itself was a blur. You played around in Feyd’s mind. Blood was such a powerful conduit. The magic you wielded was a mere fraction of what your ancient ancestors had. You had yet to show Feyd the full extent of your powers, soon enough you would tell him. He thought the Bene Gesserit were strong, you would show him true strength. Your magic weaved itself through the blood in his mind, you manipulated it, echoing your voice. 

“Pledge yourself to me… my Na-Baron… my Feyd Rautha.” 

You saw Feyd’s eyes twitch slightly, flicking to yours and searching them. Your lips tilted up, finding his reaction to your power funny. You decided to take it a step further, playing out visions in his mind. Visions of your hands roaming your body. Your skin, soft and delicate. Your eyes rolling back in pleasure. You watched his eyes widen before fluttering shut for a moment. He cleared his throat, presumably trying to regain some composure. You stifled a laugh, deciding to have mercy on him for now. You listened to the strange Harkonnen words as you anticipated how the rest of the day would go. Well, the night that is. You weren’t afraid of sex like most would be in your situation, you were curious though. 

Lost in your own thoughts you felt Feyd’s hand on your cheek. You snapped back to reality as his lips met yours. You kissed him back but cut the kiss short. You didn’t want the Baron or Reverend Mother to assume you and Feyd held anything for each other. You listened to the roar of the crowd around you, celebrating their new Na-Baroness. It was truly done now. 

You are a Harkonnen.

---------------------------------------------

You entered your new chambers first. This one was massive compared to your already spacious chamber. The ceilings were high, everything was black. There were no windows in this room - or any of the rooms in this hall of the castle. You knew Feyd wanted to keep the black sun's harsh light away from you. The thought of him being so considerate made your heart swell slightly. You set your star disc down in the center of the room before activating it. The projection adjusted to the size of your new chambers. You would never tire of this gift, feeling this close to home when you couldn’t be further away. You sat on the couch, gazing up at the projection until you heard the slide of the door. 

Feyd entered with four guards, “Should we hold her down for you, Na-Baron?” one asked.

Your muscles tensed but your face remained still, all that let onto your shift in mood was the black veins around your eyes. They became ever so prominent when you felt strongly. 

“I can manage her on my own.” Feyd said, holding his hand up to dismiss the guards. 

They left quietly and soon there was no noise besides your breath along with Feyd’s. You relaxed slightly.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” Feyd’s voice broke the silence, “and I want you to know I do.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him, not totally understanding. 

He walked closer to you before kneeling at your feet, “I pledge myself to you. Completely. I am yours if you wish it.” 

The veins around your eyes faded, you felt shock inside. You searched his mind, nothing in his blood indicated deception, he was being genuine. You tiled his chin up, “And I yours.” you said before pulling him to your lips in a bruising kiss. It was needy and rushed, trying to convey the loyalty and love you felt. 

Love?

For some reason the word felt right. Once you knew he was yours you finally admitted it to yourself. Feyd pushed you back to lean against the back of the couch. You let out a small whine, “Why’d you stop?” you asked with a hint of irritation in your voice. 

Feyd smiled as he slid his hands up your thighs underneath your dress. He felt your body tense when he moved them to the inner part of your thighs, slowly pushing them apart. “Trust me?” he said, stopping his movements.

You nodded. Feyd buried his face between your thighs, ripping your underwear off in one go. He was like a man starved, devouring you. Your chest heaved with the new sensation. His mouth was nothing compared to your fingers. 

“You are divine.” he mumbled out, you saw his face covered in your slick and it made something primal in you lurch your hips. He took this as a sign to speed up his movements, attacking your clit with small circles before he slipped a finger inside you. You moaned out at the contact. Something akin to fire built in your stomach until it consumed your veins, your thighs clenching his head in place as you rode his face to get the most from your high.

Your breathing was labored but all you could think of was more. You pushed him back with your foot, shoving your dress off at the shoulders. He helped drag it off completely before he sat in awe of your body. Every curve, dimple, scar, stretch mark - all of it. He wanted to know all of you. You leaned forward, hooking one of your nails through the loop in his pants. Standing you dragged him to the bedroom before shoving him back. He watched you with pure love, or was it lust? You couldn’t find it in yourself to care at this moment. You dragged your fingernail through his shirt like a knife through butter. Feyd shoved his pants off. He was marvelous. Beautiful in every way. Every mark on his alabaster body entranced you. You longed to see him covered in blood. 

You climbed on top of him, pulling his neck to your mouth. You kissed and licked over the expanse of him. Lips kissing up to his. You nipped his lip drawing a drop of blood.

“You like to bite?” he asked playfully, wiping his blood over your lips. 

You licked over you lips, closing your eyes to savor him. “Sanguines were rather animalistic and primal beings. It's what made them so powerful. It comes out occasionally in me, especially since I was cursed with the need for blood. Something in me hungers for more.” you said kissing his chest and sucking harsh marks into his beautiful skin. 

“There is beauty in ferocity,” he replied. 

Your eyes met his, “Bite me. Drink me. Love me.” he said in a breathy whisper, almost begging you. 

Your hand grasped his cock, gently leading it to your dripping cunt. He slid in easily but it was still an adjustment. You shuddered at the feeling. Feyd’s arms held you close, he brushed your sweaty hair to the side. “Are you alright?” he asked softly, refraining with all his might from pounding into you. 

You nodded, slowly starting to roll your hips. You found a pace quickly that hit the most wonderful spot inside you. You were lost in ecstasy as you sank your fangs into his shoulder, sucking in his sweet crimson. The visions you saw were of you and how consumed he was with you. You felt it - love. He loved you, it was more than lust. You moaned out, speeding up your hips. Feyd couldn’t stand it, he started meeting your hips with his. You nipped at him randomly. Seeing his blood drip over his white skin made the fire in your boil over. “Harder… faster…” you moaned.

Feyd bit into your shoulder, drawing blood himself as he slammed into you at a ridiculous pace. You cried out as you came, shaking violently. Feyd held you close, licking and kissing over the bite he left behind. You looked at his chest, blood smeared and dribbled over him. “Perfect…” you said breathlessly as you licked over some of the blood. 

Feyd laid you down gently. “I will never tire of this…” he said with a chuckle.

You smiled, starting to drift off to sleep as the exhaustion set in. 

“I love you so, my darling wife.” Feyd whispered as he kissed over your stomach before pulling a blanket over you.

------------------------------

Naboo's Note:

Hello! Finally back on my Feyd Rautha kick. This might be the end of this series mostly because I'm not sure where to go with the story but if inspiration strikes I will surely post more. I hope ya'll like it - I know it was a long time coming for these two idiots to fuck. Anyways - hope to post other stuff soon! XOXOXOXOXOX!!!!!!!

[sebastianswallows]

The Little Death — 12. To be taken over by power

— PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Bene Gesserit!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: A Bene Gesserit gets left behind in the Arrakeen palace. When Feyd becomes the Planetary Governor, he finds her there in hiding. The Harkonnens don't traditionally keep them as truthsayers or concubines like other Houses do, but Feyd might have a use for her. After all, he's never had a Bene Gesserit of his own before.

— WARNINGS: fluff, angst, a bit of smut

— WORDCOUNT: 3.3k

— TAGLIST: @elf-punk @lowlyloved @pomtherine @slytherins-heir @babyofneptune @localravenclaw @missbingu @wo-ming-bai @torossosebs

One uses power by grasping it lightly. To grasp with too much force is to be taken over by power, thus becoming its victim.

— Bene Gesserit Axiom

She awoke feeling sore but satisfied. As her mind caught up with her body she realised it was because Feyd had slept on her all night. She opened her eyes to the pale light of the morning and a swath of black sheets tangled all across their bodies. He laid in her arms, his head over her chest, his arms around her waist, his legs curled up innocently. When she stretched and arched her back to put her blood in motion Feyd didn’t stir but his arm tightened around her waist and a hot puff of breath tickled her chest. His face had lost in sleep all of the meanness it had during the day... She smiled and brushed her thumb across the edge of his lips. His lashes fluttered and he grumbled, pouting like a child.

“Don’t wake up,” he mumbled. “I want to sleep some more.”

“But you’re not sleeping now, are you?”

“Then why am I having such a pleasant dream?”

“Do you tend to dream of me?” she giggled.

“Yes. Before I met you,” he answered with a little yawn before his mouth shut tight again and he tightened his arms around her.

She hadn’t had much time after their ‘playing’ with the Gom Jabbar last night to think of what his resistance said about him, although she had realised between shivers of excitement that his endurance was remarkable. She knew he loved pain and that served as an easy enough explanation, but perhaps there was a little more to her na-Baron.

“Since when?”

“A while,” he muttered, nuzzling into her chest. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“I wasn’t going to…”

“Yes, well. You’re awfully curious about it.”

“It’s a curious thing, isn’t it?”

“I regret telling you,” he sighed with a sense of finality and she knew he’d say no more.

Her hand found a natural place to rest atop his head and she thought quietly about what he’d just said as she scraped gentle scratches on his scalp. He purred against her like a kitten and wrapped his soft, cold body around her, pushing the sheets away until he was all she felt.

She found herself quite languid that day from when they got out of bed all through to the evening. Feyd took her with him for a meeting with his mentats and drafted a few messages for Giedi Prime — although he asked her to leave the room for the last one, the one he wrote to his uncle — and before she knew it they were having dinner together again. She had almost forgotten all the bad memories associated with that room, that table... She sat closer to Feyd now and felt less fear about it, and what she had gained in calm he had gained in happiness. He smiled more often through the day, enough for her to catch it, and glanced toward her when he thought she wasn’t looking. His gaze was so heavy she could almost sense it on her skin.

“So what did you dream of?” she asked after she finished eating.

He looked at her and kept on chewing, jaw flexing quietly, and pretended not to understand what she meant. He wore softer clothes today — a black Harkonnen robe that covered his whole body and made him that much harder to read. He moved quite naturally in it, unusual for one so used to armour. She smiled at him but refused to indulge his pretence of ignorance.

“You know what I mean,” she said with fondness.

After a lingering glare, he turned his attention back to his plate and busied himself with eating, even if his plate was almost empty.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said at length.

“You’re shy…”

“So what if I am?”

Her smile grew gentler at his admission. It was a rare man who would admit to it without feeling ashamed, even if he sounded a bit defensive.

“I am allowed to be.”

“Yes, you are,” she said. “But I want to know anyway.”

“We all want things we can’t have.”

“Not you, though. Not the Governor of Arrakis.”

“Why not me?” he asked, turning his sharp eyes toward her.

“Well, what do you want?”

He pouted and turned to his plate again, swirling his knife around the leftovers.

She looked at him and kept looking for long moments. He had skilfully diverted the conversation from what she had asked to something else and yet both ends of the conversation were connected. He was being childish, one didn’t need to be a Bene Gesserit to know that. She asked herself what it was about his dreams, or about what they’d done last night, that had turned him so. The answer presented itself rather quickly.

She reached out the small distance and placed her hand on his. He stilled immediately, his grip limp and weak and dead beneath her touch. Gently she rubbed her thumb over his knuckles and brushed her fingers across his soft pale skin. Like a shadow his gaze came up to meet hers and in his eyes were pleas he did not dare voice out. Before long she had risen from her chair and sat in his lap, hands cupping his tense face to brush away the tears he couldn’t spill.

“What do you want, hmm?” she quietly asked, her whisper touching his skin.

Feyd closed his eyes and breathed a deep and heavy sigh, fighting against everything his uncle had probably told him about the Bene Gesserits, about women… The question itself had no purpose. She knew exactly what he wanted. But she wanted him to admit it to himself, to her, and set free those weak and traitorous emotions — longing, loneliness, and pain. What he wanted was both a mother and a lover, a figure in his life unlike any other, a vessel for all the care he had inside of him with nowhere left to spill. She brushed a finger across the dark circles underneath his eyes and traced down his face towards his lips. He was as open as a broken book, a battered gate, a hungry mouth to feed, and she would give him everything he wanted.

“Do you want me?” she asked with a knowing smile.

Feyd frowned, his pride still in the way of him admitting just how vulnerable she’d made him. It almost broke her heart.

“How do you want me?”

His hands left the edges of his seat to come around her waist and hold her. “In every way,” he muttered, opening his eyes but still not daring to look into hers.

“But you know I’m yours,” she said with a barely concealed tease in her voice.

“No, not like that. I…”

She cupped his jaw and let her finger linger on his lips in a way she knew would warm his blood. Feyd sighed and kissed her caressing hand and then his arms around her pulled her in until he could sink his face into her shoulder. She cupped the back of his head and held him.

“I want to be yours, too,” he whispered.

She closed her eyes, a thin sigh of relief escaping her, and she fought back a smile. “I know, I know,” she said with all the soothing she could muster, her hands petting the back of his skull.

“But you won’t have me.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because it’s true…”

“Is that in your dreams as well?”

He didn’t answer. She kept on distractedly petting him, cuddling him while sitting on his lap and tried to decipher meanings from the way his breath fell on her skin and the tremble in his arms around her.

“Let’s go to bed,” she said.

They went to their shared room together and he sent the guards away before closing the doors behind them. She hugged him from behind while he undressed and laid her forehead on his back. Feyd paused with muted hope but kept his thoughts to himself. She’d come dangerously close to the core of him the night before, cracked him open with pleasure, with pain, and supped on the bitter centre. What she set in motion had the momentum to get her out of there, to save her from the desert planet and out of Harkonnen hands, if only she made sure to fan the flames aflutter in his heart.

“Don’t pretend,” he said, his voice low and sad. “Don’t pretend you care or that you like me.”

“Is it because I hurt you too much last night that you think that I don’t —”

“I just know it,” said Feyd as he stepped out of her arms.

Should she contradict him? Could she? He scared her when he gave in to his darker feelings. It made her feel like she lost control of him. But the prospect of him being wrong scared her even more… She walked toward the window and hugged herself, watching the night fall on Arrakis. Already he was slipping through her fingers and if she only closed her fist he’d slip much more. He was ruled by his emotions but it was a hard task to accept that she was a bit like that as well. He’d never properly grown up, and neither had she, and just like he wanted to escape the constraints of the Barony… She desperately wanted to get away, and knew he was her path toward it. As she frowned at her reflection in the thick shadowy glass his shape appeared behind her, a ghost through the dark. He hugged her from behind much as she had done before but he had shed his clothes by now and his naked arms curled up around her. He rested his head against her back.

“I want to tell you,” he started quietly, “but I know I shouldn’t. I’m not as dumb as you think I am.”

“I don’t think you’re dumb.”

“No, you don’t think much of me at all, do you?”

“That isn’t fair…” she said, turning in his arms to look at him. “You’re the one who always leaves me behind. Who has me walk out of the room. You don’t trust me —”

“Because you’re not trustworthy. You say you’re my Bene Gesserit and you let me do things to you that you despise, but deep down —”

“You have no idea what I really think and feel.”

“There it is,” he slowly rasped, his smooth brows casting shadows over his tired eyes. “You don’t think me capable of understanding.”

“No, I know you are very capable,” he said, her hands tightening around his arms. “You lasted an admirable amount of time with the box. Whether it’s because you were tested before or because you like pain, it doesn’t matter. It’s… more than anyone I’ve ever heard of. And your dreams... Your dreams come true, don’t they?”

Feyd pulled away from her as if he could hide in the shadow of the setting sun, but her hands still gripped him and his arms were still around her waist and even if he could have hidden he was all too clearly seen by her.

“Not all of them, I hope,” he muttered.

What is he afraid of? she asked herself. From the sad and worried look in his eyes and from the way he held her she could only guess it was a fear of loss. That was what he’d admitted to earlier, wasn’t it? He wanted to be hers. He feels rejected… Unwanted, she realised. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Sure, she’d given him everything he asked for, both the pleasure and the pain, but fulfilling his baser needs had only opened up his mind to what he really wanted: to belong.

Her grip tightened around his muscled arms and she leaned in to kiss him, but for some reason, she couldn’t. Feyd waited breathlessly for her to close the distance and she never did. The only way around him that she knew was to manipulate him, and she couldn’t do that anymore. Not to the young na-Baron with so lost a look in his blue eyes. She couldn’t pretend to love him, not even to save herself. So she let go of him, withdrew, and turned around. She barely took a step before he stopped her. He slid a finger through the lacing of her dress, pulled her back, and started to undo it.

“You know, I can’t help but respect you even when I hate you,” he whispered roughly. “You teach me new forms of pain each day we are together.”

She smiled to herself. “Do you prefer the type of pain from yesterday?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Frankly? Yes.”

She laughed and heard Feyd chuckling behind her, although there was a string of sadness there. His fingers worked quickly to undress her and he pulled her back into his body, their skin sticking to each other’s. His embrace didn’t last long before he took her hand and led her to the bed.

She let herself be guided, allowed him to take control in a way she hadn’t since she was a child in schooling, taught to move and breathe and think by the Proctor Superiors, only this time there was no design about it. She had nothing to learn, nothing to gain by obliging him, no motivation to pretend. She found herself sitting down before she even realised she’d crossed the room and her eyes searched for Feyd, finding him seated on the bed beside her. His gaze was focused on her neck, her lips, the way her hair fell around her shoulders, and slowly his hand trailed her back in something of a caress. She shivered and then his attention came to her eyes again.

His lips parted, pink and full and boyishly beautiful, but he changed his mind before he said a thing. She wondered what he’d been about to say but it was clear even without words: he was afraid of her, nervous that a wrong move or word misspoken would make her leave. He was overly cautious as he trailed his fingers down her back and curled them around her waist. She let him kiss her without any complaints or attempt at seduction and took the gentleness he offered. And she kept her eyes open throughout to look at his silky lashes, the tender pallor of his face, the way his brows would crease, and found herself admiring him for the first time ever — not for all his qualities, not for the carefully cultivated end results of centuries of breeding, but for his delicacy, his frailty, the way he seemed at times so breakable. She cupped his cheek and leaned into the kiss, surprising him into a moan. She felt his full lips curl and his tongue lap at her skin and then she pulled away. Feyd’s eyes were dark and drowsy, drunk with the closeness of her.

“What did you dream of?”

“You still want to talk about that?” he frowned, sounding quite betrayed.

“No, it’s not to know it. I just want to make it real.”

He bit his lip and sucked in a breath that trembled when he let it go, and around his eyes, she could see the crease of worry.

“I’ll tell you if —”

“No,” she said. “No more games, no transactions or conditional surrenders. Tell me only if you want to.”

He leaned in again and crushed his lips to hers, hands tightening around her waist to pull her body flush to his. Without a thought she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, knees brushing clumsily against his.

“I don’t want to tell you,” he whispered against her mouth, his eyes soft and pleading. “But I want it to be real…”

When he kissed her again he did it with a bit more pressure until she laid back down. Feyd held his body atop hers suspended without breathing, letting her hips go to thread his fingers through her hair. She grew drunk on his attention, the way he held her, the desperate way he kissed her, on how she could almost taste his thoughts. Her hands started feeling hot and itchy and she soothed them by brushing them across his skin. His thighs were softer than they had any right to be, his hips were lean and smooth, and she didn’t get to feel his body and higher because he started making his way down her own. He sucked the sweat off of her neck and tasted the murmur of her moans, he licked across her clavicles and nibbled on her bones, he placed sweet kisses on her breasts until her nipples rose... He smiled when his lips found them already erect and he opened his eyes to look cockily up at her.

She watched him breathlessly as he lavished attention on her body so transparently proud just to see her react to what he was doing. There was an animal simplicity to it that felt like a betrayal of everything she knew but once she saw him like that she couldn’t look away. However seductive his plush lips looked suckling on her nipple, however strong his body, stretched across her own, muscled, pale and gleaming like the statues of old, he was more than anything else dear to her because he was just a little boy. Needy and eager to please, playing with her the way his thoughtless heart dictated. She brought a hand up to his head and gently scratched his scalp and his lips parted from her breast to sigh. Eyes still closed he licked across her nipple, rolling it until it was lathered in his spit. A snake of fire coiled in her stomach. It made her squirm.

Feyd moaned into her flesh and his hands came to her thighs. She tensed up, remembering so many rough handlings — from both him and her — but he touched her as gently as if she were made of glass. And as his kisses moved between her breasts, over her heart, trailing down toward her tummy, he parted her thighs so softly that it made her shiver. He took his time brushing his cold hands across her skin, going higher and higher slowly enough that she could stop him if she wanted to. When his fingers reached her core he turned his playful eyes up at her and smirked. He held her gaze as he licked her stomach with a silent promise and trailed a finger through her folds to part them. She allowed herself to blush as she looked down at him, forgetting herself completely for a moment, living only through the softness of his lips, the sleek movements of his tongue, and the proud look in his eyes. Her first instinct was to question him, to dig into his ego and find out what he planned, but she quieted that part of her and waited.

“You’re this wet for me?” he murmured, his lips right above her mound. She could feel his breath tickle her where she was most sensitive. He sounded playful and proud and there was an expectation in his voice that was inescapable. She had to answer.

“Yes…”

He buried his face between her thighs but not before she saw how wide his smile was. His hand tightened on her leg and then she felt something brush up against her ankle. A pale blue eye looked up at her, gauging her reaction with hungry anticipation, and she realised it was Feyd showing off how hard he was as he rubbed his cock against her. Her nails curled up against his scalp halfway between a caress and a scratch and he giggled. He was being so sweet with her that she could almost fall in love.

“Come up here,” she whispered, her head tilted lazily against her shoulders, her hair a messy halo on the bed.

“Not yet,” he rasped, peppering little kisses up and down her thigh. “I’m going to taste you first.”

[banj0possum]

I need more of Baron and gn!reader- Ong Baron is giving secret fanboy when they see reader working and looking scary and mean

But now hear me out- someone tries to hurt Reader and before Baron can even get a finger in reader already has the person pinned?????? And baron is like- ⊙⁠.⁠☉

Reader: "...?"

Baron:＼⁠(⁠◎⁠o⁠◎⁠)⁠／

Reader: "what?"

Baron: ヽ⁠(⁠(⁠◎⁠д⁠◎⁠)⁠)⁠ゝ

Like he knows reader is prolly strong but like seeing reader restrain someone has just got him stunned (man's defo even more fan-crazy about them now tho)

Now I know this totally goes against the fact that reader hired Baron to keep them safe, but like, they've gotta know basic self-defense ur honor🖐️

im literally starving for baron requests so here it is !! :))) also apologies if the fic is kinda short qwq

Yandere! Bodyguard x Gn Reader Part 2

CW: Violence, an atom of mentioned blood, Baron is a bit of a creep

♠️ Considering the fact you dealt with weapons on a daily basis, it's no wonder you were able to defend yourself.

♠️ But hggghghgghgh Baron can't help himself you're so..amazing!!!

♠️ There were times when your dealers would be a little too touchy for your liking and you have to teach them a lesson by gripping their arm painfully tight or kicking them

♠️ He can't help but smile like an idiot seeing his darling boss being capable of defending themself

♠️ Once you turn back to look at him, he already looked away pretending to be looking at the guy and not you.

♠️ And those were only the minor incidents

♠️ There was one time where you two went to the convenience store because you ran out of instant noodles.

♠️ He stayed outside waiting for you while you browsed the shelves for your favorite flavour

♠️ Baron was busy thinking about how cute you look walking with him at 10pm in fluffy pajamas and one of his shirts that were way too big for you that it drooped from your shoulders

♠️ It was cold and you found one of his shirts that were freshly cleaned, he nearly went into cardiac arrest when he saw you smelling how fresh it was.

♠️ He was fantasizing so much he didn't notice a fight breaking out in the store

♠️ A loud crash caught his attention, and he rushed in only to find that you got it all under control

♠️ There were two men with pocket knives that were going to jump you, but you fought back hard.

♠️ He just watched as you beat up these two hoodlums all on your own, he can't help but gulp as you wiped your mouth after a punch or slicked back your sweat covered hair.

♠️ After one last kick to one of them, you pay for your things and leave, curling your arm around Baron's, making him tense up trying not to squeak giddily

♠️ You lean your head on him as you try to slow your breathing. "I uh...got you that coffee you like.."

♠️ PLEASE PLEASE MARRY HIM PLEA- "Thanks.."

♠️ He's much more protective of you, and much more obsessed~

♠️ As much as you look hot defending yourself, he doesn't want you to hurt yourself ;-; please let him take care of you babagurl !!

♠️ If you ever get hurt, even just a bruise or a nosebleed, Baron's taking you home immediately!!! preferably with you in his arms bridal style as you hold him close~

♠️ He's treating your wounds and scolding you about always leaving the dirty work to him! He doesn't want your pretty face ruined by such bastards

♠️ "You hired me for a reason, you can rely on me to deal with those punks ok? So please take better care of yourself.." His tone teetered on the edge of strict and caring

♠️ You sigh in defeat "Alright alright, thank you Baron~" you caress his head and cheek in gratitidute

♠️ Poor guy nearly got a heart attack from the contact OH MY GOD OH MY GOD YOUR HANDS ARE SO SOFT AND SILKY!!!!!

♠️ "N-no problem Boss.."

♠️ If you ever get blood on your shirt, here! take his coat! totally not because you look adorable in it!

♠️ If you feel sore afterwards, he'll run you a nice warm bath to ease your muscles, he may or may not take a whiff of your dirty clothes while you're busy in the bathroom...

♠️ But most of all, if he ever runs into the assholes who hurt you..lets just say fighting you was more merciful than what he's about to do to them..

♠️ He checks up on you while you sleep and smiles, "Don't worry Boss, no one will ever hurt you again, I'll make sure of it.."

♠️ He tucks a hair behind your ear and pulls your blanket up before giving you a soft but heartfelt kiss on your head before leaving.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Adventure: Along the Road of Nameless Graves

Presiding over a series of forested foothills and mountainous valleys that divide two rival kingdoms, the mist-shrouded barony of Siirvyn has seen more than its share of war over the past generations. Betrayal, invasion, and massacre are all too common motifs in the barony's long history, leaving all sorts of scars on both the landscape and the people who dwell within it.

Adventure Hooks:

Rumours of a treasure draw the party to Siirvyn, apparently concealed in a vault beneath the ruined castle of a long dead baroness Taviaa. Surely it won't be too hard to locate a single ruin in a land frequently beset by war, right?

The party arn't the only one combing across the barony looking for something. A hardluck knight seeks her brother after he vanished on a foolish quest, and might be willing to help the party out of jam if they aid her in search.

Folk of the barony tell of Grimcackle, a great black winged beast that moorlands that's sometimes heard laughing over the desolate battlefields but is only ever seen by the lost and the desperate. To heed the old stories it plunders the old battlefields of it's choicest riches, hoarding the wealth of the dead over centuries of war.

Subquest 1:

The party's hunt for riches gets complicated after arriving in the region to find that there has been no less than eight baroness Taviaas over the past century(backwater fiefdoms do like tradition after all) with five castles between them. Most have been destroyed by disaster, neglect, or siege, leaving the party to trek across the land checking checking out each option (though a clever party might narrow their search by hitting the local archives and cross referencing historical accounts).

Potential ruins include:

The delapidated lair of the local owlbear

Huanted by the ghost of one of the baronesses Taviaa,

The Hideout of a gang of smugglers with far reaching ties

Thoroughly cursed by a battlefield savaging spriggan who deals in cursed weapons.

To make matters even more complicated, one of the castles has been restored by the current baron Arkolo who would likely not take kindly to a band of renegade sellswords pilfering riches from under his nose, forcing the party to avoid it entirely or risk getting thrown in the dungeon if caught.

Subquest 2:

Ser Riley of Breakbridge never expected to inherit the family title, her father favoured her elder brother Rhys far more, and when the old man died in the last war there was no question who his holdings would pass to. Then, a couple of years ago Rhys got it into his head that he needed to reclaim the family's ancestral sword which was lost in the same bloody battle that did their father in, crossing the mountains to scour old battlefields and not being seen since. After righting the mess Rhys caused by his chivalric absence, Riley has come to Siirvyn herself to drag him, or possibly his body back from his foolhardy quest. The party may run into her requesting aid from the Baron, seeking advice from the local shrine to Tyr, or drinking off another unsuccessful trek through the wilderness at the local tavern. She'd welcome their aid in her search, and would gladly pay them back by lending her blade to theirs in their search (or using her influence to spring them from the baron's dungeons, should they have been caught).

Rhys' trail snakes all across the barony (including leaving a journal in one of the ruins the party wanted to search), but terminates in the great barren battlefield that was his father's last stand. While searching these moorlands the party & Ser Riley will run into a band of armed scavengers apparently conducting their own body-hunt for one of their fallen comrades. They served on the opposite side of the war from Riley's family, and if that wasn't bad blood enough, they apparently came to blows with Rhys a little under a year ago and aim to settle the score with his sister.

Regardless of how the standoff plays out (talking the scavengers down and exchanging favours or beating the information out of them) the Next step is to find Grimcackle's nest. By now (especially if you're playing with my affliction system and the party is tired out from all their wandering across the countryside) the party will have realized that the only way to see the great raven is to be nearing the edge of death, whether through actively dying, being poisoned, or just being exhausted to the bone. This is because the great raven is infact a psychopomp, tasked with sorting out the dead from the region's innumerable wars. Once the party find the particular tor the dread raven uses as roost, they'll find him quite chatty in the way of most birds, happy to trade gossip or play show and tell with his many finds. Rhys did indeed come to challenge Grimcackle for the sword, an act of daring rudness that forced the psychopomp to drag the knight's soul to the purgatory it rightfully belonged.

Resigned by the love she bears her brother, Riley insists she must venture into the shadow to save him, leaving the party with the choice of convincing her to abandon her quest, leave her to her fruitless pursuit of honour, or risk it all alongside her for the sake of an idiot who thought he could convince an aspect of death to respect his pedigree.

Subquest 3:

After their harrowing adventure the party return to town to find that Baron Akolo has been assassinated and all of Siivyrn has been thrown into chaos and suspicion. Fingers point and depending who the blame lands on it might spell civil war or invasion for the backwoods barony once again.

Background: Both neighbouring powers wish to control who moves through the region's winding passes, and expend great effort in both war and peace to ensure the barony is favourable to them. While occupying armies and vassalage have been all too common in the past, the region's ostensibly independent ruler Baron Arkolo is a puppet in all but name for the winning side of the most recent war. Little more than a bandit leader during the conflict savaging battlefields and attacking supply lines on both sides, Arkolo saw the way the wind was blowing before anyone else and made himself indispensable to his current patrons before their inevitable victory.

Little more than a strongman at first, the newly elevated baron managed to ingratiate himself to his subjects by leveraging his outlaw status to cast himself as a hero fighting against the great powers rather than ruling on their behalf. All the while the canny old bandit was of course playing both sides, toadying to the victorious kingdom while helping to run the smuggling operation for their rivals.

Clues & Consequences:

The baron had a stormy relationship with his son and prospective heir Kalo, who came up raiding alongside his father. After the war however, the young man felt he'd had enough of violence renounced his possesisons and joined the secluded temple of Tyr as a means of making peace with his bloody past. Arkolo never approved of his son's taking the cloth, refused to name another heir and would frequently make pilgramage to the temple just to argue with him. Despite their years of contention however the had seemed to reconcile in recent months, becoming closer than ever. Kalo is not taking his father's murder well, and has decided to dust off his old bandit skills alongside his newfound connection to a wargod as a means of finding the killer. Like an angered bull, he's liable to charge at whoever draws his attention, a weakness the real culprit might use to direct him onto the party's trail.

Gareth Gosdown, the baron's advisor and castilian is an agent of their patron kingdom, sent to keep the former outlaw in line and the kingdom's garrisons well supplied. In the wake of Arkolo's death, he's less interested in finding the killer than he is reinforcing his masters' hold over the barony in case of a new invasion. Known for butting heads with the Baron's more slapdash ruling style he's the one the common folk are most likely to point to.

Taviaa (ninth of that name) was born to the Baron after he'd claimed the region and married one of the local nobles. Though still young, she has a cutthroat attitude and a mind for politics, which made it all the more frustrating when her father refused to give up on her pious half brother as heir and name her instead. She knows she's the obvious culprit, the case made all the more convincing by the fact that she's recently been paling around with emissaries from the other kingdom.

Art 1

Art 2

[thosefuzzywordfeelings]

i hope i'm not too late for the smutty weekend!!!! but i need to know how the boys (Steve, Baron and Gator) would react being caught/walked in on having sex

(also i love your writing)

Never EVER too late baby! I’ll write smut always in all fairness, i’m just a fan of alliteration 💁🏽‍♀️✨

CW; exhibitionism, bar the first one the people catching you have no idea whats happening 🤍, handjob (m receiving), oral (f receiving), car sex, being caught ofc ✨

i’m into getting caught writing this one 😮‍💨

Gator;

The dirt track. Right underneath the willow tree tunnel. Meeting place with Gator when things got tough, boring, late, needy, heated, whatever. He’d pick you up in his SUV and take you there immediately, knowing you’d drop call him specifically twice and he’d be on his way for you.

For it to end up the same every time, windows steaming - keeping them shut in fear of anyone listening. Though as Gator bent you overloaded the middle console from the backseat, the noises falling from your mouth were often loud enough to hear through soundproof glass.

“You needed this, hm?” Gator grunted, pulling your ass back against his hips; fingernails indented into the folds between hips and thighs. You’d nod, moaning out a weak “yes, sir”. This would always make him pick up the pace, rocking the car and forcing you to balance your hands on the front seats just for stability. You’d feel it climbing, the perfect ache forming in your lower tummy and he knew it.

“Can feel you baby, you close?” He’d breathe out, grinding his hips forward. With a quick tug of your hair, he pulled your head up and you immediately gasped.

“Yeah? Right there?” Gator grunted.

“Gator stop - it’s -“

“Not too much baby, you can do it -“ He carried on, too lost in you. But you reached back and pushed him off you, sitting in the furthest corner of the backseat.

“What’s wrong? You were right there -“

He quickly shut up when you pointed towards the windscreen, the low headlights illuminating none other than Roy Tillman, hat and all. He stood relaxed, hands on his hips as he waited for the two of you to realise.

“Shit. Shitshitshitshit.” Gator mumbled, pulling up his camo pants and scrambling out of the backseat door, hoping he could either make it up to his dad or at least save you from a lecture. After what looked to be the most awkward conversation ever, surprisingly Roy looked towards the car, tipping his hat and walking away. Thank god.

Steve;

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were going to hear the pitchy ding of the door bell, scared that a customer would walk in and see your head thrown back against the counter. Supposedly if they did, they’d have no idea that their video store sales assistant was tongue deep in his girlfriend. On his knees and whining against her clit as his arms wrapped around her thighs.

“What if -“

“Nobody’s coming in, honey.” He’d pull off just to say before diving back in again, somehow hungrier than before. He could stay there forever, blocking out the world and only tuning into the sounds tumbling from your lips. His mouth left you again, hands spinning your hips so your top half faced and collapsed against the Family Video desktop.

“Now you can keep look out while you come.” He growled, shuffling so he had his back against the counter so he could find comfort in your core again. Your hands gripped the edge of the counter as you felt that knot grow again, hips grinding back against his face.

With each ‘mhm’ he muttered against you, you throbbed in response. And just as that crescendo reached its highest peak, you saw her. Robin, jumping out of Vickie’s car and waving her off as she headed right towards the store.

“Steve - Steve - stop, Robin’s here, Robin’s coming - fuck -“ You mumbled nervously, trying to buck away from his mouth but he just chuckled.

“So act naturally then, Miss 4.0 Drama major.” Steve whispered cockily, mouth wrapping around your clit again as you tried to regain composure.

“Oh hey, didn’t expect you to be here so late, ignore me - Keith said he’d called nine times and no answer so I had to get my ass outta bed and come and stock check quickly. Do you know where Steve even is?” Robin rambled as she usually did, not even looking over at you as she headed straight to the first row of tapes and checking them.

You were already on the brink, but as Steve slipped two fingers inside you. “I - I uh, he was in the break - break room when I got here, I’ve just been - waiting -“

You could feel Steve smirking against you as he curled his fingers harder inside you, bringing you right over the edge as you closed your eyes and let it happen. Robin stood up.

“Oh, I’ll check. You okay?” Robin asked kindly, looking at you for a moment as you gritted your teeth and smiled softly. She headed towards the break room and Steve got up with a smug smirk, lips glistening as he giggled and wiped your mess away with the back of his hand. You fixed your skirt, hopping up on the counter and giggling with him. Robin came back out of the break room confused, sighing in relief when she saw Steve.

“Idiot, Keith’s been calling and calling you - why do you bother coming in if you don’t do anything?” Robin sighed as she slung her bag over her shoulder and headed towards the front door again.

“I got caught up.”

Baron;

Needy. Baron’s new middle name. He’d call you throughout the day, mumbling that he was just ‘checking in’ but he wanted to know where you were and how long it would be till he could see you again.

Now here you were, pressed against his chest as his back was against an incredibly wide oak tree on the outskirts of town, civilisation a short bike ride away, but away nonetheless. His head was back against the bark, brown eyes looking up at the sunlight through the trees as he felt like he was ascending.

“Still with me, darling?” You’d say softly as your lips carried on pressing to his neck, one of your hands cupping his face and the other stroking the outline of his arousal through his shorts.

“Mhm.” He mumbled sweetly, tilting his head back down to meet your gaze, his eyes hooded immediately as he saw how beautiful you looked in the afternoon sun. Mischievous twinkles in your irises as you smiled almost innocently, before your hands were unzipping the shorts and pulling them his mid-thigh.

“Oh honey - are you sure? We’re, well we’re outside and -“

“I can stop, I thought that’s what you wanted, you said on the phone and I quote, ‘if I don’t feel your hands on me, I’m riding this bike into Ron’s shop window’ end quote.” You’d say with a giggle, halting your movements.

“I did - I did say that, you’re right,” He mumbled, his drawl thicker as he grew more and more needy for you now he knew you met him just to give him the pleasure he begged for, “I want it- want you.”

Pressing a sweet kiss to his lips, you pulled away only centimetres, cupping your hand underneath your mouth and spitting crudely into your palm before gripping his cock softly.

“Now just focus on me, okay darling?” You’d reassure him, matching his smile as he nodded eagerly back, his knees almost going slack as you stroked him. Unfortunately for the pair of you, the intense and thrilling moment came to a halt as you heard a dog barking loudly, followed by the sounds of crunching leaves and women’s shrill voices cackling.

“Shit - who - why is there -“

“Baron, pull your damn pants up and kiss me.” You whispered hastily, wiping your hands on your clothes and almost screaming with shock as Baron did what you said and spun you round; your back hitting the bark as he kissed you hard.

“Ow fuck-“ You giggled against his lips, kissing him back as you opened your eyes and looked over his shoulder. A familiar face with a friend walked past with her dog and the two women clocked you both.

“Oh young lovers - Baron?” One of the ladies spoke, pulling her dog on its leash closer to her and picking it up into her arms. Baron turned halfway around, hyperaware of the heavy erection straining in his shorts as he smiled and waved haphazardly at the ladies.

“Hi. Hi Biscuit.” Baron mumbled awkwardly as he waved at the dog. Nudging his elbow into your ribs playfully as you giggled at the situation.

“You got yourself a lovely girl there, huh? I remember those days.” The two ladies stood not that far away from you both as they started reminiscing together. Baron turned his head back to look at you before looking down at his…predicament, before the two of you burst into a fit of giggles, shouting a ‘we’ll catch y’all later’ to the women and running away, Baron almost limping with the need for relief.

[melintowriting]

The first Empress-Chapter 3

Hi everyone! Sorry for the wait but writing and translating this chapter turned out to be more difficult than I thought. Hope you'll like it!

Warnings: arranged marriage, smut (+18), mentions of SA (by the Baron on Feyd)

Word count: 5.052

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE

The spaceship arrived on Giedi Prime after nearly four days of journey, during which Megan and Feyd had tried to get to know each other a little. Feyd had not spoken much about himself: he had simply told her that he loved killing and fighting in the arena, nothing more. As for her, he had discovered more interesting things. The young woman loved reading, riding horses, history and politics, an unusual passion for a woman, he thought. 

His uncle once told him that intelligence was a wasted quality in a woman; but Feyd disagreed. All his life he had only dealt with naive and useless women that were easy to manipulate. He kind of enjoyed the fact that his wife was smart and a woman worthy of his attention.

After that long journey Megan felt tired: many months had passed since the last interspace journey she had undertaken. She had gone to Caladan for an imperial visit to her uncle Leto. That was probably the last time she had visited her mother’s homeworld, but she didn’t know it at the time.

Her husky husband’s voice echoed from behind her as the doors of the spaceship opened, revealing the gray and gloomy sky of the capital.

"Welcome to Giedi Prime, wife." he said with a wide smile, taking her hand.

Megan and Jeremy exchanged a quick look. 

What horrible place was that? They had grown up on a green planet with beautiful landscapes, and now they had both ended up in an industrial hell.

The Na-Baron and the Na-Baroness got off the ship immediately after Baron Vladimir, greeted by soldiers’ chants in Harkonnen language. Behind the ranks of the military there were the faces of ordinary people. Men, women, children, all united by the typical features of Giedi Prime.

Jeremy, who stood faithfully behind his sister almost in a protective way, noticed the way they looked at her. They were curious, almost impatient. They looked at her with hopeful eyes. 

-The Bene Gesserit.- he thought -They prepared the people for our arrival. -

Megan walked neatly beside her husband.

She could feel his big hand holding hers.

"Do you like it?" he asked, continuing to walk on the long walkway that would have led them to the fortress.

Megan looked around, unsure whether or not to tell the truth.

"It’s a kind of planet I’m not used to." she decided to say.

Feyd looked at her, amused.

"Is that a subtle way of saying you don’t like it?"

"It’s a way of saying I have to get used to it." the girl promptly replied.

Her eyes inevitably met the ones of the common people behind the soldiers, intent on observing her while whispering.

"What’s going on?" Megan asked, noticing that the atmosphere was starting to warm up.

People had begun to speak louder and the soldiers had begun to arm themselves, ready to protect the noble family.

Feyd raised an eyebrow: he was confused as much as she was.

"Uncle." Feyd said, catching the Baron’s attention.

"This scum!" the Baron exclaimed, annoyed and angry.

Jeremy instinctively approached his sister, ready to defend her from any threat, asking, "What are they shouting?" 

The screams were in Harkonnen language, an unknown language to the twins.

Feyd stopped to look at the agitated crowd, trying to figure out what they were shouting. 

"Na-Baron." 

A slimy and subtle voice caught his attention. It was Piter De Vries.

"It’s not wise to stay out here." he said, trying to keep his cool, "You and your bride must go immediately to the fortress."

"What are they shouting?" he asked, ignoring his recommendation.

And then he heard. He heard what they were shouting and he understood who they were shouting at.

"Liberator! Liberator!" they kept saying, pointing at Megan, begging her to free them.

It was her voice that brought him back to reality.

"Feyd, will you tell me what’s going on?" she insisted, slightly squeezing his hand to get his attention.

"Let’s go." he simply replied, confused and upset by the idea of a riot.

-What’s going on? - Na-Baron kept asking himself while dragging his wife and brother-in-law into the fortress. He wasn’t easily broken down, nor panicked, but an unsettling sensation was creeping inside of him. Never since his uncle brought him to Giedi Prime as a child, he had seen the people in such turmoil.

His uncle did not love the people, he despised them, and he taught him to do the same. Normally people would lower their heads in the presence of the nobles and remain silent in fear. Not this time though.

He couldn’t understand why.

******

A few hours later an extraordinary meeting of the small Council was scheduled.

The trusted nobles of the capital had been invited and Feyd, as the baron’s heir, had a duty to attend.

He left his wife in her apartments with her brother, both still confused by the turbulent arrival on the planet, and he then started to get ready for the Council in his own room. He needed to understand, to know more about what happened.

When he opened the door to his room his harpies were waiting for him, laying on the bed.

As soon as they saw him they began to greet him impatiently and to beg him not to leave them alone anymore.

"We missed you so much, Na-Baron..." they kept saying while kissing his whole body "We can’t be without you."

He greeted them with his usual manner of doing, impassive and icy, letting them praise him a little. He loved the fact that their life depended on him. Being the center of their existence pleased him enormously. 

He caressed their heads almost as if they were obedient little animals and he then ordered the servants to start dressing him up.

When he noticed that his harpies were busy whispering to each other, Feyd slightly laughed. He knew what they were mumbling about. He knew what they wanted to know.

But he decided to remain silent, waiting for them to speak first.

And so it was.

"Feyd." one of them began, showing her black teeth in a wide smile.

"Yes, my darling?"

"What does your wife look like?"

There was a strong note of hatred in her voice.

At the word "wife" the other two harpies almost hissed in enragement.

Feyd smiled even more widely. They were jealous. Oh how much he loved to be desired...

"She is very beautiful." he admitted sincerely, visualizing Megan’s beautiful face in his mind. 

"More beautiful than us?" the other harpy asked with a hint of desperate need for approval from him.

"Yes." he just answered.

He didn’t care if he hurt them or not, it was the truth. His harpies were beautiful for the beauty standards of Giedi Prime, but Megan was more beautiful for his taste. 

A general hiss echoed behind him. 

"So now that she’s here you’re going to abandon us?"

"Don’t leave us Na-Baron, please. We need you."

"We exist only if you are with us."

Feyd turned to look at them amused.

All that despair was feeding his huge ego.

"No, I will not leave you for now. As long as you satisfy me and you are obedient pets you can still receive my attention." he answered as the servants finished dressing him. He dismissed them with a simple gesture.

"Where are you going, our beloved Feyd?" a harpy asked, seeing him walking to the door "I thought you would spend some time with us..." she whispered sensually while the other two almost started purring.

He knew what she was alluding to: usually, as soon as he returned to Giedi Prime after a diplomatic visit to another planet, he visited them in order to satisfy his sexual needs.

But he didn’t have time to do that that day.

"I don’t have time." he quickly explained, looking at his reflection in the mirror one last time.

He still did not know if after the meeting he would have visited them or Megan. 

"Maybe later, if I don’t meet with my wife." he added, postponing the decision.

And after that, in a mix of anger and resentment, they all remained silent while Feyd left the room.

******

The Council Room was a place that invoked memories in Feyd’s mind.

Most of them were dark and hard to forget.

The first memory related to that room was particularly traumatic. Like any seven-year-old, Feyd loved to play. He was always told that playing was a waste of time, that he had to learn how to fight, how to rule and not to invent stupid hobbies. But he was stubborn. He still wanted to play, even though there was never anyone willing to play with him. 

One afternoon he was wandering in the fortress while playing with an indefinite amount of imaginary friends, when he accidentally entered the Council Room, interrupting a meeting.

Vladimir had angrily scolded him, humiliating him in front of all the nobles, and then he had told him that he was going to punish him in his chambers.

Feyd knew what that meant.

He knew what was coming.

Even at the time, despite the typical innocence of children, he understood that there was something wrong with all that. That the way his uncle touched him wasn’t normal, that not all children had uncles like that, fortunately.

From that day on Feyd kept his distance from that room until he was old enough to be ready to sit in the Council.

As much as he tried not to think about it, that room always took him back to that memory. Every time he sat at the long table next to his uncle, he felt such a deep hatred for him that led him to often fantasize about killing him.

He thought about it many times but he never did it. 

-In due time.-  he thought -I will have my revenge. -

"My trusted lords." the Baron said with his hoarse voice, "I think you all know why we are here."

The nobles nodded, visibly upset.

"I leave the word to Piter. He will be able to explain some... things to you better" he said vaguely, inviting the Mentat to continue.

Piter cleared his throat with his usual hasty manner before speaking.

"Well... so, thanks to my Mentat skills, I immediately understood the reason for the turmoil today." 

Feyd rolled his eyes. He hated that Mentat. Nobody cared about his abilities, they just wanted to understand why the people were shouting those things to his wife.

-How much I want to kill that idiot. - he thought, still remaining impassive.

"The Bene Gesserit are involved, I bet." a noble said.

Piter nodded: "Yes they are. An ancient prophecy of theirs speaks of a First Empress, the first woman to sit on the throne. During our visit to Kaitain for our Na-Baron’s wedding I tried to gather as much information as possible about our new Na-Baroness and it seems that everyone believes she is the chosen one."

"Nonsense." commented the Baron to reassure the nobles "All nonsense of course."

Piter nodded again, but that time hesitantly. Feyd seemed the only one to have noticed. 

Maybe his uncle was underestimating the situation.

"The Bene Gesserit, as always, must have spread the word here on Giedi Prime. The people were waiting for Feyd Rautha’s wife, the one who will free them from slavery and from the Laandstrad system, the one who will make them free men and women."

While all the nobles laughed, Feyd and Piter looked at each other in silence. Neither of them was laughing. It was at that point that Feyd realized that the Bene Gesserit prophecies were potentially serious things.

"A woman will never sit on the throne." the Baron chuckled.

"Women are meant to make children and stay silent. Can you imagine a woman ruling the Empire? We’d be doomed!" another noble said, making all the others laugh. 

"Here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna let the people love her, think she’s gonna save them, sit on the throne... we’re gonna let them think whatever they want. We will turn all of this in our favor, of course. So that when someone will sit on the throne, that someone will be my nephew Feyd."

Feyd turned to look at him slowly, perfectly hiding the surprise.

His uncle’s fat face deformed into a wicked smile.

"Let that woman believe she can rule and I will make you emperor."

Now all the nobles' eyes were on him.

"Emperor?" Feyd asked, savoring the taste of that word.

The Baron smiled even more widely.

"When she will ask you what happened today, tell her the truth. Fuel her hopes. Make her believe it. If we exploit the support of that mass of beggars, who do you think will sit on the throne?"

Feyd looked him intensely in the eyes, feeling the excitement growing.

"Feyd Rautha Harkonnen!" the Baron exclaimed with a proud look.

"Feyd Rautha Harkonnen!" the nobles repeated in a solemn tone.

******

Giedi Prime was a miserable place.

Nothing about it was pleasant or interesting.

It was sad to think that she would have had to spend the rest of her days there, under a perpetually gloomy sky and breathing heavily polluted air. But at least she wasn’t alone.

Her brother had dinner with her and before he left he had come up with a theory.

"What if what happened today is a sign that the prophecy is true?"

Megan looked at him in silence, analyzing his idea.

They both knew about the prophecy because of their mother.

"I don’t know." his sister replied "The world doesn’t seem ready for a woman on the throne yet... maybe the Bene Gesserit are wrong. Perhaps the Chosen One is yet to come." 

There was disappointment in her voice.

“We’ll have time to see if the prophecy is right.” he reassured her "Rest now." 

"Unless my husband decides to pay me a visit."

Jeremy tried not to show it but the idea of his sister with Feyd Rautha still troubled him deeply. 

"Good night." he said, kissing her on the forehead.

"Good night Jeremy," she whispered, "I’m lucky to have you here with me."

And it was true. Without her twin she couldn’t survive, neither on Giedi Prime, nor anywhere else.

As expected, her husband came to see her.

"Come in." Megan said as soon as she heard a knock. She knew it was him.

Feyd entered the room and closed the door behind him.

He chose to go to her. He couldn’t explain it but the idea of having sex with her excited him a lot more than having sex with his concubines. The newest toy was always the most interesting.

"Did you have dinner, wife?"

"I did." she nodded "Did you attend the council?"

Feyd nodded without taking his eyes off her.

The way she looked at him... she wanted to know, she wanted to ask him what had happened. His ability to understand people was not due to his empathy, but rather due to his attentiveness and meticulous observation.

And just like he predicted, Megan spoke.

"What happened today?" she asked, "Were they shouting at me?"

Why did she ask him such an obvious question? Feyd was certain that she knew about the prophecy about herself.

"I think we both know about the prophecy." he just said, studying her with his piercing gaze.

Megan seemed to frown, slightly tilting her head in surprise.

"How do you know?"

"Bene Gesserit’s prophecies have always seemed like a waste of time to me, but they have the strange ability to spread quickly." Feyd explained, "Our Mentat heard about it on Kaitain at our wedding. Today he only had the confirmation that the people really believe in it. They believe that you will free them from the imperial system."

Silence fell between the two. They looked at each other for a few moments, both intrigued by the other. 

Feyd had expected a reaction from her. He had expected astonishment, surprise... she was a woman after all, and women were always exaggerated and sentimental. He had just told her that people thought she was going to be the first woman to rule... and she just looked at him in silence.

-What a strange little creature. - he thought before breaking the silence with a simple question.

"Do you think they’re right?" 

He had to make her believe in the prophecy as his uncle suggested, and to do so he needed to make her talk.

Megan remained silent for a while, breathing in deeply.

"I don’t know."

Feyd sighed. 

-What a disappointing answer.- 

Seeing him unsatisfied with her answer Megan added, "All men are still too dull to accept a woman’s power."

-That is an interesting answer. -

"All men? You’re assuming I am too?"

"Isn’t that right?"

"No."

To be honest Feyd never thought of a woman as a ruler. He had always been taught that women were just about having children and being good wives, but he had never had a maternal model to learn from. He killed his mother a long time ago. As soon as she had tried to stop the Baron in his attempt to bring Feyd to Giedi Prime to raise him as a true Harkonnen, Vladimir had ordered the little Feyd to kill her. And he, a simple child with a knife in his hand, had obeyed without really knowing what he was doing.

Did he regret it? No.

Or maybe.

But there was no point in thinking about it anymore: his mother was dead and he had found a strange pleasure in killing. 

His wife raised an eyebrow in an unconvinced expression.

She didn’t believe him.

-You’re more stubborn than I thought, pet. -

"Men are all the same."

Feyd looked intensely into her eyes. That sentence annoyed him. He was not like all men. All men wanted to be like him, to be precise.

"And tell me, what are men like?"

"Frightened by a strong woman." she explained with a firm tone.

Feyd smiled in amusement.

"And you think you are?"

The girl inhaled deeply, nodding without hesitation.

"It’s a fact." and then she went on "That I really am what people say I am doesn’t matter now. There’s still time to figure it out. But one thing is certain: I always frightened men. My father was terrified that I would open my mouth to any event with guests."

The Emperor frightened by a girl? It was both absurd and funny.

"Why is that?"

"Because I didn't agree with him on a lot of things and I wasn’t afraid to say it."

Her answers, always accurate and ready... Feyd was sincerely amazed. But he did not show it.

And then he thought -If she’s so proud and stubborn it might become a problem for me. I’ll find a way to tame her. -

"In what ways did you disagree with him?" 

He was really interested in finding out.

"I think the whole Empire is based on injustice and that an Emperor should rule differently."

Now Feyd could understand why her father preferred her when she was silent. Her confidence was unbearable, yet amusing.

"How?" he teased her.

"If I truly am the First Empress, you will see."

Feyd immediately became serious, taking a step toward her.

"Another husband would have already punished you for your insolence."

Just like before Megan didn’t get upset.

"If you do, you’d prove my theory that men are scared of confident women."

-Now it’s too much. -

He had to make things clear, that insolent little creature had to figure out who was in charge.

"I’ll prove something else." he whispered, approaching her, "That I can make you shut up for as long as I want. Or rather... that the only thing you’ll be able to say is my name."

Megan smiled, looking him in the eyes.

"We’ll see." she replied.

Was it possible that the fear with which she looked at him the first time had already vanished?

Feyd sat on the bed, ordering her to kneel before him.

"Now I’m gonna teach you something, pet, and you’re gonna have to listen carefully."

The girl nodded, kneeling between his legs.

"Look how obedient you’ve become now that you know you’ll get my cock." he grinned, caressing her cheek.

Without needing to be told Megan took off his uniform pants, freeing his half hard manhood from his clothes.

His dark eyes watched her fingers running along the numerous veins down his length before wrapping her hand around it, squeezing slightly.

During the journey from Kaitain to Giedi Prime, they only managed to have sex twice. Feyd had dragged her into a small room on the spaceship and made her his with impatience. And  Megan also enjoyed those moments. The embarrassment and awkwardness were slowly abandoning her, leaving room for a constant curiosity and desire for him. 

If during the first time with him she had been afraid that he might hurt her, now she knew how much Feyd was able to make her feel good instead.

Megan understood what she had to do, something she’d heard about but never done before.

"What if... I hurt you?" she asked, looking up.

-What a stupid question.- she mentally said to herself, seeing Feyd grinning. She already knew the answer.

"I like pain, pet. Both to provoke it and to receive it." he explained to her while slightly pushing her head towards his now hard manhood.

Megan breathed deeply, getting closer.

Her tongue licked the base and then ran up to the tip, following a large bluish vein. She then focused on the tip, licking it, making her tongue swirl around it in circular motions.

-I’m doing well. - she thought, satisfied, hearing Feyd’s deep moans.

After a few minutes of teasing she then opened her mouth, barely taking him all inside. 

It was too big to take it all.

She began to move her head, bobbing it up and down his length, while Feyd took her long brown hair in his hand.

"Am I too big for you, little thing?" he groaned, pushing her down further at every movement.

Megan tried to shake her head but she was pushed down on him, feeling his cock touching her throat.

She instinctively tried to retreat, gagging around him, but Feyd kept her still for a few moments, grinning in pleasure.

As soon as he let her go, Megan coughed with tears in her eyes and looked at him with a grim look.

"Don’t make that face." he mocked her, laughing.

He wiped a tear off her cheek with his thumb, smiling even more.

"Now continue, pet." he ordered, slightly slapping his cock against her closed lips.

The girl obeyed, starting again.

After a few minutes and after understanding the mechanism, she began to enjoy it to the point that she instinctively added the hand movement, hearing Feyd groan even louder.

"Yes pet, just like that. Good girl." he said as bewitched, looking at her bobbing her head with teary eyes "Do you want me to cum in your mouth?"

Megan nodded eagerly without stopping, looking up directly at him.

That look she gave him... it sent him over the edge.

He came with a low groan, pulling her hair as he could feel his cock twitching in her mouth.

He looked into her eyes as she swallowed, almost amazed.

It didn’t matter that their marriage was arranged... the sexual pleasure he had experienced with her that week was a pleasure he had never experienced with any other woman, not even with his concubines.

Maybe they would have never loved each other, and that didn’t matter, but at least they could both make each other feel good.

"You did a great job, pet." he complimented her, caressing her cheeks.

Megan smiled slightly, wiping her tears with the back of her hand.

He had been right when he had told his harpies that she was very beautiful.

"You are mine." he added possessively, looking into her eyes.

That sentence stirred something within Megan. At first she looked at him in amazement, remaining silent as she caught her breath.

And then she nodded, not taking her eyes off him.

Perhaps there was a reason why according to the Bene Gesserit’s plan they were destined to be together.

And that was the reason: she was his and he was hers.

******

Two weeks later

Feyd told her about the upcoming fight in the arena. Because of Feyd’s duties as Na-Baron the evening was the only moment they could spend together. And when they were not busy having sex they had made a habit of entertaining themselves in conversations. Megan was surprised that they had sex every night. Men usually prefer the company of their concubines and she was sure that he was still sleeping with his harpies regularly, especially when during the day he was busy and away from her. But after all, he always came back to her and that… that made her feel special.

They regularly spoke after sex. It was always Megan to start, since she had understood that Feyd was of few words, but he always participated in the conversations with interest.

One night, without warning, Feyd spoke first.

"In three days there will be a fight in the arena." he had said proudly, looking up at the ceiling. 

Megan had turned to look at him, observing his facial features, his body perfectly muscular and sculpted. 

"How long have you been fighting in the arena?" he had asked.

"For years. Since I was 14, maybe." he had replied. 

Everybody knew how damn good he was at fighting.

"Do you want me to attend?" 

Feyd had looked at her, perfectly hiding his emotions behind a detached expression.

He didn’t want to ask her directly because he was waiting for her to make the move.

He wanted her to see him fight, he wanted her to understand and see how strong and skilled her husband was.

"The first time we spoke you said you weren’t afraid of death." he had said, "If it’s true, attend the fight. People want to see their Na-Baroness."

By saying so he had pretended that her presence didn’t mean anything for him but that it meant something to people.

Megan agreed.

And there she was, sitting in the arena, waiting for the show to begin with her brother beside her.

"There he is."

Jeremy pointed at the man entering the arena, greeted by the chants of the spectators.

It was Feyd.

"Who are his opponents?" his sister asked him, using a pair of special glasses to see clearer from afar.

"I heard he fights against prisoners from other planets." he explained, clenching his fists in rage "Including Fremens."

Megan felt blood freeze in her veins as a Fremen entered the arena, stumbling.

Although no one, except for the imperial family, knew about their true identity, the Fremen blood inherited from their real father was for the twins a source of great pride; and seeing a Fremen sentenced to death in that way made them seethe in anger.

The fight began.

"They’re drugged." Jeremy noticed "Prisoners are drugged."

It was true. All her husband’s opponents were staggering and their reflexes were slowed.

Her twin brother was confused.

"You can tell he’s a good fighter... why do this?"

"Because Feyd kills for pleasure. He fights for fun, he doesn’t care about fairness or honor." she explained, looking at the prisoners being killed relentlessly.

The way Feyd was killing them was proving to her how much he enjoyed doing it.

Seeing that side of her husband in person wasn’t reassuring her at all. She always contemplated murder but only for those who really deserved it, for those who committed injustice… not as a hobby.

When the fight finished her husband looked at the Baron, who nodded proudly, and then directly at her.

Megan looked at him, unsure how to react.

Did she have to pretend she liked it? Yes, maybe it was the wisest thing to do.

So she gave him a slight smile, a smile that Feyd secretly appreciated.

The chants of approval from the audience did not stop even when Feyd disappeared from sight, entering the underground parts of the arena.

"Let’s go." her brother said, getting up from the stands.

Escorted by Megan’s guards and maids, the twins left the arena to get to the vehicle that would have taken them back to the fortress.

But something went wrong. 

The people were shouting and calling her name again. They started to surround the guards who were trying to protect her, reaching out their hands to touch her, begging for her help.

"Don’t worry." Jeremy told her, drawing out his knife. Her husband was a skilled fighter, but her brother was too.

But Megan wasn’t worried. Not at all.

In those weeks following her arrival she had thought a lot about how the people looked at her, about what Feyd had told her about the prophecy. 

She knew she had to try to help them. She felt like she had a duty towards those people. She needed to understand why. She had to find out if she really was what they thought she was.

The guards began to load their weapons, ready to shoot at the crowd, when Megan felt an arm grab her.

She turned to see a young woman who was pulling her arm with a desperate look. She had the typical features of Giedi Prime, dark eyes, smooth and pale face.

"Please, my lady." the girl begged her in Galach, without letting her arm go.

Megan, as in a trance, started allowing the young woman to guide her out of the crowd, but saw with the corner of her eye a soldier pointing his weapon at the girl’s head, ready to stop her from taking the Na-Baroness with her.

But Megan turned to him and without even thinking she used the Voice.

"Stop. Let me go."

The soldier obeyed without resistance.

"No, no!" Jeremy shouted, seeing his sister disappear into the crowd. He started pushing people, desperately looking for her, shouting orders to the guards. 

But there was nothing to do.

Megan had disappeared.

From that moment, everything changed.

Tag list: @mamawiggers1980 @avidreader73 @pomtherine

[lipstickchainsaw]

Anyway, that's enough talk about thematic parallels, and psychological profiles, and sociological roles, and imagery, and let's instead talk about the cold hard politics of the current moment within Arcane.

Now, the Arcane has taken Ekko, Heimerdinger and Jayce out of the game, and the Black Rose has kidnapped Mel besides, which we'll soon see has a massive impact on how things unfold.

Piltover

In Piltover, Ambessa just made her move to install a puppet dictator, whose martial dominance is very dependent on Noxian troops at the moment. She made a quick switch from Salo, who she was obviously grooming as a patsy, to Caitlyn. Caitlyn will be much more capable in the role, given that she actually has something resembling military experience, and harder to dislodge than Salo would've been, but this is a double-edged sword.

After all, Caitlyn being competent means she has opinions on how to wage the war Ambessa wants her to wage, and it also means that Caitlyn will buck against Ambessa's control if she ever were to find out Ambessa was behind Renni's attack on the memorial. She'll need a lot more careful and skilled handling, and with Mel kidnapped, Ambessa's likely to be distracted...

Here we see the impact of the missing players, because Jayce was on Caitlyn's path (although Mel won the battle for his soul against Ambessa), and a close friend to counsel her against this course of action; Mel would be able to push back against this entire thing politically, even if it wouldn't be as straight-forward as ousting Salo, and Heimerdinger, for all that he was retired, probably has the clout up here to make his resistance to this Noxian coup enough to cause a lot of doubt.

Now, we have no idea how sentient the Arcane is, but the Black Rose definitely took Mel off the board for a reason, given the timing. Now, does that mean they knew about the Caitlyn switch and want this to happen, or were they also of the opinion Ambessa was putting Salo in, and took Mel out so that would happen? How caught off guard by this were they?

Regardless, with the fake 'assassination attempt', and Jinx' last stunt, Ambessa and Caitlyn have enough of a casus belli to start a full-scale invasion. Without Jayce, though, Ambessa won't be getting her Hextech weapons anytime soon, so she's going to have to be managing Caitlyn for a while. How long is it going to take for her to realise what's going on?

Zaun

Yeah, they're two wholly separate political entities at this point. Silco got his nation of Zaun, it just wasn't as clean and peaceful a break as he would've liked. That and Zaun is, uh, kind of a mess. Leaderless, the place is tearing itself apart, and that's not a situation you want to be in when there's an army about to march through your streets.

On top of that, the fragile situation leaves various agents very vulnerable to manipulation from outside forces, like Renni marching to her death on Ambessa's invitation, and Smeech eager to sell Jinx out.

So what options for unification does Zaun have right now?

Chross and Margot, the remaining Chem Barons, have made it pretty clear they're not going to be banding together to form a unified front against Piltover, too busy battling over the scraps Silco left behind, although they are causing enough low-level chaos to be a problem for everyone else. If either of them wins, they'll likely have a lot of the criminal element of Zaun consolidate behind them, and that's an element that's enjoyed a lot of power traditionally.

The Firelights, essentially the main resistance against Silco in the Undercity, might be able to step in and become a more dominant faction. Unfortunately, they're not set up to take on that kind of role, ideologically or structurally, and with Ekko gone, it's unlikely they'll be able to change that in a reasonable timeframe.

Viktor certainly has the potential to build up a power base that could become politically relevant, if he organises the poor and downtrodden into one coherent political block. Yes, his narrative is mostly a prophecy narrative, but religious structures don't exist separate from political ones (unless you make the political choice to enforce that separation). Unfortunately, he's only just starting out, and Zaun needs to get its shit together pronto.

So that leaves the actual inheritors of Silco's legacy: Jinx and Sevika. Sevika is a born second in command, and has essentially played kingmaker in previous shifts of power, so by getting her on board, Jinx has secured an important key to power over Zaun, but she hasn't exactly been thinking of herself as a political actor. So let's do some of that thinking for her.

She's Piltover's most wanted, of course, but what has she really done, from the perspective of the average Zaunite? Killed a number of Enforcers during the Progress Day thing, which isn't great, but Zaunites aren't necessarily sympathetic to Enforcers.

She then blew up Marcus and some additional Enforcers on the bridge. Yes, Marcus had just shot Ekko and was about to shoot Caitlyn, but any 'saviour' spin on that would run into the fact that Jinx tried to kill them both after. Still, the fight over the bridge was a big deal in Vander's day, and the people of Zaun weren't exactly happy with the blockade, so she might even come out ahead in this.

She kidnapped Caitlyn, but Zaunites aren't going to be very sympathetic towards her after her Strike Team, let alone the dictator thing. Yes, this is very much a result of Jinx' actions, but I don't think the people of Zaun are going to see it that way.

She blows up three councilors, and this is obviously a massive escalation, but how many Zaunites have died since? Why do these guys get to be this big of a deal? I feel like the ceremony surrounding this caused more resentment than anything.

Then she saved Isha from Chross' goons, and took out Smeech, one of the chem barons causing so much chaos on the streets of Zaun, both of which will boost her public standing, even before she takes on the Strike Team poisoning everyone.

And then she does her stunt with the paint bombs, mixed with the very toxic fumes Caitlyn's Strike Team was using on the people of Zaun, which we see a lot of people watch with excitement. You put all this together, and you can see why she ends up getting popular support.

There's two problems here. For one thing, she is strongly tied to Silco's regime. People who hated Silco's rule and knew it well enough to know her ties to it will not be happy with her. She can't even frame herself as a rebel against him (even if taking out Marcus would fit that narrative well), because the fact that she killed Silco would threaten her coalition with Sevika, and betray the image of her day, which wouldn't be good for her mental health.

So she could reframe him as a bastion of stability. When he disappeared, things went to shit, so making people think back to him more fondly could work. After all, Silco got a statue for Vander, despite it all.

Her second problem is that the most reasonable faction here will have a serious problem with her, because she killed a whole bunch of them. The Firelights are not going to be happy about Jinx becoming a popular figure, and without Ekko present, they're going to have trouble negotiating that relationship as well. Then again, it might also mean they won't be able to hold back the tide of public opinion.

Then there's Vi, who isn't currently in any mental state to be doing any politics, but could be a dark horse source of legitimacy as Vander's kid, should she be able to find herself again.

Of course, there's also Singed, who has Warwick as, uh, actual Vander for his kids to face. Singed attached himself to Silco for his resources, and now Silco's dead. Is Singed still looking for someone amoral to give him those resources? If so, he might attach himself to one of the chem barons. The creation of Warwick could, however, give him enough of a power base to pursue his own goals, whatever those may be...

[novaursa]

Of Gods and Men (destiny)

This is Dune/GOT/HOTD/FAB/ASOIAF crossover AU that you've voted for. If you always wanted to see House Targaryen in space, I got you. Please note how some of the lore of both universes is bent to blend in both worlds. This is my original idea that I've been cooking for at least two years. Be gentle with my work, and enjoy the ride.

- Summary: House Targaryen survives their ancient exile after being overthrown by House Corrino and the Bene Gesserit. Fleeing to the unknown planet Albiron, the Targaryens build a hidden civilization powered by drakaon crystals, reviving their dragons and creating advanced technology. Millennia later, whispers of their survival begin to surface as the Bene Gesserit confront a mysterious Red Woman on Arrakis, who warns of a coming Prince That Was Promised destined to challenge their control. The Targaryens secretly prepare to return, ready to reclaim their legacy.

- Paring: reader!Daenys Targaryen/Leto Atredies

- Note: For more details about House Targaryen and their technology, please check out the masterlist.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: the path

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

- A/N: This is the last part of the book I: of gods and men. I'm not sure when I will start posting the book II: children of valyria (or if it will be posted here at all). I will be leaving this part of the schedule open for something else, for now.

Leto moved swiftly through the larger passageway, following the path Vexiae had taken. The walls were slick and uneven, but the sound of chaos ahead pushed him forward. He could hear the dragon’s deep growls and the terrified shouts of Harkonnen soldiers, followed by the unmistakable sounds of metal clashing and flesh being torn apart.

As he approached, the passage widened into a chamber where the remnants of a Harkonnen squad were scattered in pieces. Vexiae was a blur of red scales and fury, her claws slashing through the soldiers who dared to stand in her way. Blood sprayed across the rocky floor as she decimated the squad, her wrath unstoppable. Her massive form twisted and lashed out with terrifying precision, leaving none alive.

Leto stopped in his tracks, watching in awe and horror as Vexiae crawled up the walls of the chamber, disappearing into another passageway high above. Her roar echoed through the cavern, but Leto knew he couldn’t follow her any further. She was too far ahead now, and the path she had taken was one he couldn’t climb.

Breathing heavily, Leto crouched behind a large rock, listening intently. The soldiers were no longer a threat, but something caught his attention—the faint sound of voices from a nearby tunnel. His pulse quickened as he strained to hear, focusing on the muffled conversation.

"...keep the Targaryen girl down there," one soldier said, his voice anxious. "Baron’s orders. No one goes near her except Feyd-Rautha."

"She’s more trouble than she’s worth," another voice muttered. "Should’ve killed her when we had the chance."

Leto clenched his fists, anger surging through him. So, you were being held deeper in the caverns, under the watch of Feyd-Rautha himself. His teeth ground together as he thought of what they might be doing to you. The thought of you, bound and hurt, filled him with fury. He couldn’t allow this to continue any longer.

With a quiet determination, Leto moved toward the tunnel where the voices had come from. He had the information he needed now—he knew where you were. All that was left was to get to you before Feyd-Rautha carried out whatever twisted plans he had in mind.

You were close, and Leto swore to himself that he wouldn’t leave without you.

Feyd-Rautha stormed into your cell, his face twisted in fury. His footsteps echoed ominously against the cold stone floor, and the door slammed shut behind him with a metallic clang. His eyes blazed with anger, his frustration barely contained as he paced back and forth like a predator searching for a victim.

"You think this is funny?" he growled, turning to face you. "Your dragon is loose, tearing through my men, destroying everything we’ve built here."

You leaned against the rough stone wall, bruised and aching, but you couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at your lips. "I warned you. Dragons aren’t pets. They don’t take orders from lesser men like you."

His eyes narrowed at your words, and you saw the flash of hatred cross his face. In two quick strides, he was standing over you, his hand raised. The sting of his slap landed hard across your cheek, snapping your head to the side. You tasted blood in your mouth but didn’t flinch.

"You insolent bitch," Feyd hissed. "I could have killed you before. But the Baron... he still has use for you."

You slowly turned your head to face him, your gaze defiant. "Do your worst, Feyd. You’ll never control Vexiae. Dragons don’t bow to cowards who hide behind chains and whips."

Feyd’s lip curled into a snarl, and he grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back as he leaned down, his face inches from yours. "You think you’re untouchable, don’t you? You think just because that beast is out there, you’re safe?"

His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "I don’t need your dragon to break you. I’ll make you wish you’d never crossed me."

You stared into his eyes, refusing to show fear. "I’ll never obey you. And you’ll never break me."

His grip tightened painfully, and he slammed your head back against the wall. "We’ll see about that. If you don’t call off that dragon, I’ll make sure you watch as I torture her, as I burn your precious Vexiae alive, piece by piece."

You clenched your jaw, the pain sharp but nothing compared to the rage building inside you. "Vexiae will never bow to you. And neither will I."

Feyd’s face darkened with fury. He released your hair and slapped you again, harder this time, sending a sharp jolt of pain through your face. "You will learn, Daenys. One way or another, you will learn."

He stepped back, breathing heavily as he tried to regain control of himself. His hand twitched as if he was tempted to strike you again, but he held back, a cruel smile creeping onto his lips instead. "No matter. Soon enough, you’ll beg me to stop. And when you do, I’ll have everything I need."

You glared at him, hatred burning in your eyes. "You’ll never break me, Feyd. You’re a coward. Nothing more."

Feyd’s smile faded, and the cold, calculating look returned to his eyes. "We’ll see how brave you are when you have nothing left." He turned sharply and stormed out of the cell, leaving you bound and alone.

The door slammed shut behind him, the echo of his threats hanging in the air, but you weren’t afraid. Vexiae was still out there, and you could feel her presence, her rage mirroring your own. You wouldn’t give in to Feyd-Rautha’s cruelty. You would fight, just as your dragon was fighting for you. And somehow, you would survive this.

Leto was out there. You believed that. He would come for you. And together, you would make the Harkonnens pay.

Leto crouched in the shadows of a narrow passage, watching as Feyd-Rautha stormed out of one of the adjacent hallways, his face twisted in anger. The Harkonnen heir was furious, barking orders to the guards and soldiers who scrambled around him. His words were clear: recapture the dragon, by any means necessary.

"You idiots! I want that beast chained down now!" Feyd snarled, shoving one of his men aside. "Find it before it tears this place apart!"

Leto’s heart pounded in his chest as he listened. Vexiae was still out there, still causing chaos. But you were nowhere to be seen. His stomach clenched as he imagined what Feyd had done to you, what he was planning.

But there was no time to dwell on the possibilities. Leto knew that this was his moment. He needed to get closer, to find the holding cells where you were being kept. He could see the group of guards stationed near a side corridor, heavily armed and alert, likely guarding the cells Feyd had just left.

A plan quickly formed in his mind. If he wanted to get to you, he couldn’t sneak past them. He needed to cause a distraction, something that would throw them off completely. And there was only one thing that would leave these Harkonnen soldiers more stunned than anything else: the sight of the Atreides Duke walking into their base alone.

With a deep breath, Leto stepped out of the shadows, his posture casual but deliberate. His eyes flicked toward the guards, and a mocking smile tugged at his lips. He had to play this right. They needed to see him as vulnerable—alone and defeated.

"Well, well," Leto called out, his voice echoing through the corridor. "It seems I’ve wandered a bit too far, hasn’t it? Thought I’d come see what all the fuss was about."

The guards froze, their eyes widening in shock as they recognized him. One of them barked out a curse, immediately raising his weapon. "The Duke! How did you—"

Leto raised his hands in mock surrender, taking a few slow steps toward them. "Easy now. No need to get all excited. It’s just me, after all."

The confusion was clear on their faces, and that was exactly what Leto wanted. They hadn’t expected to see the Duke of Atreides here, alone, in the heart of their hidden base. They had no idea what to make of it.

"What are you doing here, Atreides?" one of the guards growled, his weapon still trained on Leto. "Where are your men?"

Leto smirked, maintaining his calm demeanor. "Oh, they’re around. But I figured I’d come alone to make things easier. You know, personal surrender and all that. Thought it’d be the polite thing to do."

The guards exchanged glances, uncertain. One of them reached for his comm device, clearly intending to call for reinforcements. Leto’s sharp gaze caught the movement, and he knew he had to act quickly before they realized this was no surrender at all.

"You want to know something interesting?" Leto said, stepping closer as if he was about to divulge a secret. "You might want to keep an eye on that comm device."

The guard paused, confused, as he glanced down at the device in his hand. That was the opening Leto needed.

In a flash, Leto lunged forward, grabbing the guard’s wrist and twisting it sharply. The weapon clattered to the ground as the guard yelped in pain. Before the others could react, Leto spun the guard around, using him as a shield, and swiftly disarmed another.

Chaos erupted as the remaining guards scrambled to respond, but Leto was faster. He took down the second guard with a swift punch to the throat, sending him crumpling to the ground.

Now armed, Leto aimed the stolen weapon at the remaining guards, his expression deadly serious. "I suggest you tell me where the holding cells are. Now."

The guards hesitated, clearly realizing they were outmatched. One of them, trembling, pointed toward the corridor Feyd had emerged from. "Down that hall... second left. That’s where she is."

Leto’s heart raced, and without another word, he knocked the guard unconscious and began his way down the corridor toward you. His mind was focused, sharp. 

Gurney adjusted the straps on his stillsuit as the desert winds kicked up the sand around him. His eyes scanned the horizon, narrowing as he noticed the sudden shift in the Harkonnen troops’ movements. They were becoming erratic, almost desperate. Something had changed.

His hand went to the comm link at his side, and he tuned it to Duncan’s frequency. "Idaho," Gurney called into the device, his voice steady despite the rising tension. "You seeing what I’m seeing?"

A crackle of static buzzed in his ear before Duncan’s voice came through. "Yeah, Gurney. Harkonnen attacks are getting sloppy, like they’re panicking. We haven’t seen this kind of behavior from them before."

Gurney nodded to himself, watching as Atreides forces managed to repel another disorganized assault from the Harkonnens. "They’re desperate. Whatever’s happening on their end, it’s big. You think it’s got something to do with Leto and the operation in the caverns?"

"Could be," Duncan replied after a moment, his tone thoughtful. "Or maybe they know something we don’t. Have you heard anything from the Duke?"

"Not yet." Gurney glanced down at his comm again, a wave of unease creeping up his spine. "I haven’t been able to raise him. He’s off comms for now."

The desert winds howled louder as another Harkonnen skirmish group charged toward them. Gurney’s hand instinctively went to the hilt of his weapon, but his mind remained focused on the bigger picture. "We need to push them back, Idaho. I’m thinking whatever’s got them so riled up, it’s connected to what’s happening in the caverns."

Duncan’s voice crackled back over the comm, decisive. "Agreed. We’ll hold our ground here, but we need to stay sharp. If they’re this frantic, they might try something reckless."

"Understood," Gurney replied, his gaze hardening. "Keep me posted. I’ll try to get through to the Duke again. Gurney out."

He cut the comm link and turned back to the Atreides troops under his command. "Form up!" he barked, his voice cutting through the desert noise. "Stay sharp and keep pushing them back! Something’s got these Harkonnens rattled, and we’re going to make sure they keep running."

The soldiers around him tightened their formation, readying themselves for the next wave. Gurney’s mind, however, remained on Leto and Daenys. Whatever was happening in the caverns was the key to this sudden change in the Harkonnen strategy, and until he knew more, he would fight like hell to protect the Duke’s interests and ensure their survival.

Leto hurried down the corridor, his pulse quickening with each step. The guard’s directions echoed in his mind—down the hall, second left. He could feel his heart pounding, not from the exertion, but from the thought of finding you, hoping you were still alive, hoping Feyd-Rautha hadn’t gone too far. His breath was ragged, the weight of his weapon steady in his hands as he rounded the corner.

The holding cells came into view, a heavy metal door reinforced with a locking mechanism controlled by a panel on the wall. Leto didn’t hesitate. His eyes quickly scanned the area for any remaining guards. There were none in sight, and the narrow hallway felt eerily quiet.

His gaze fell on the control panel beside the door. It was complicated, no doubt designed to prevent any unwanted visitors from freeing the prisoners inside. But Leto had no time for finesse. His hand reached for the hilt of his blade, and with a swift motion, he drove the weapon into the panel’s circuitry. Sparks flew as the panel sputtered, the lights flickering on the door’s control interface.

He slammed his fist against the damaged panel for good measure, and the door hissed as its internal mechanisms unlocked. The metal barrier slowly creaked open, revealing the small, dimly lit room beyond.

And there you were.

You were slumped against the wall, bound at the wrists, your head hanging low as if you were barely conscious. Bruises marred your skin, evidence of the torture Feyd-Rautha had inflicted on you, but your chest still rose and fell with shallow breaths. You were alive.

Relief washed over Leto like a tidal wave, and he rushed to your side. "Daenys..." he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

At the sound of his voice, your head lifted weakly, and your eyes fluttered open. When you saw him, there was a flash of recognition, and something else—relief, hope.

"Leto..." you rasped, your voice barely audible.

Without wasting another moment, Leto knelt beside you, his hands moving to untie the bonds that held you captive. His touch was gentle but urgent, his eyes searching your face for any sign of how badly you’d been hurt.

"Hold on," he said, his voice low but filled with determination. "I’m getting you out of here."

The ropes fell away, and as soon as your hands were free, you slumped forward, but Leto caught you, pulling you close to him. He could feel how weak you were, your body trembling from the pain and exhaustion, but there was still a fire in your eyes—a stubborn refusal to give in, the same strength that had drawn him to you in the first place.

"You came for me," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, but the gratitude in your tone was unmistakable.

Leto's grip tightened as he helped you to your feet, his arm steadying you as you swayed. "Of course I did. I told you I’d never let them take you from me."

He pulled back slightly, his gaze locking with yours for a moment, and in that shared look, a silent understanding passed between you. There would be time for more later, but now, you needed to get out of here.

"Can you walk?" Leto asked, his voice soft but urgent.

You nodded, though your legs were shaky, the weight of your injuries evident in every strained movement. "I’ll manage."

Leto looped his arm around your waist, helping you find your balance. "Good. We don’t have much time."

As the two of you moved toward the door, Leto cast one last glance around the small cell, making sure nothing had been left behind.

With you leaning on him for support, Leto led the way into the hallway, his weapon ready, his mind already calculating the best way out. He wasn’t leaving without you, and now that you were free, nothing—no one—would stop him from getting you both out of this hellhole.

Feyd-Rautha had made a grave mistake by taking you. Now, Leto would make sure he paid for it.

Leto guided you carefully through the narrow passageway, his hand firmly on your waist, supporting you as you moved through the dimly lit cavern. The adrenaline of the escape still pulsed through his veins, but now that he had found you, now that you were together again, a sense of relief washed over him. He led you into a secluded area between the cavern walls, a temporary safe space hidden from the Harkonnen troops still scouring the caves.

Once inside, he helped you sit down on a smooth rock formation, his gaze filled with concern as he crouched down next to you. The silence of the cavern surrounded you both, offering a momentary reprieve from the chaos outside.

"Are you alright?" Leto asked softly, his hand brushing a strand of hair away from your face. His touch was gentle, but his eyes searched your face for any sign of pain or discomfort. "They didn’t—hurt you too much?"

You managed a tired smile, even though your body still ached from the ordeal. "I’ve been through worse, believe me," you whispered, though the reassurance in your tone didn’t entirely mask the exhaustion in your voice.

Leto’s expression softened, and without thinking, he leaned in and kissed you gently. It was a kiss filled with relief, with the gratitude of having found you alive and whole. His lips lingered on yours for a moment longer than intended, as if savoring the fact that you were here, with him, after everything.

When he pulled back, his hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. "I thought I’d lost you," he admitted, his voice raw with emotion. "When I heard what they’d done—when I couldn’t find you—I was ready to tear this whole place apart to get you back."

Your heart ached at his words, and you reached up to touch his hand, grounding him with your presence. "I knew you would come for me," you whispered, your voice laced with a quiet confidence. "I never doubted it."

The corners of Leto’s mouth lifted slightly, a trace of a smile forming. He leaned his forehead against yours, closing his eyes for a brief moment of peace in this madness. "I don’t deserve you," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

You shook your head, your fingers tightening around his hand. "Don’t say that. We’re in this together."

For a few stolen moments, the world outside the cavern didn’t exist. It was just the two of you, safe in each other’s arms, letting the affection and love you shared provide a balm to the horrors of the battle still raging on.

Leto’s arms encircled you, pulling you close as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. You felt the weight of his exhaustion too, the toll that this war and these battles had taken on him. You stroked his hair gently, allowing him this rare vulnerability in your presence.

But as much as you wanted to stay in this moment, you both knew it couldn’t last.

Leto reluctantly pulled back, his eyes locking with yours. "We need to keep moving," he said, though his voice was laced with hesitation, not wanting to leave this brief respite. "We have to get you out of here before Feyd-Rautha or his men find us."

You nodded in agreement, though your hand lingered in his. "I’m ready when you are," you replied softly, your eyes never leaving his.

For one last moment, Leto leaned in, kissing you again—this time with a fierce, protective passion. Then, he stood and offered you his hand, helping you to your feet.

"We’ll make it out of here," he promised, his voice resolute as he took your hand firmly in his. "I swear it."

Leto led you carefully through the winding tunnels, his grip firm on your hand as you both moved toward the cavern hangars. The sounds of engines echoed faintly, and Leto’s sharp eyes spotted the last of the Harkonnen Ornithopters preparing to take off. Relief was within reach—an escape. But before either of you could make a move, a cold, mocking voice echoed through the chamber.

“Well, well,” Feyd-Rautha’s voice slithered through the darkness as he stepped out from the shadows, flanked by his men. "Look who we have here. The noble Duke of Atreides himself."

Leto’s posture stiffened, and his grip on your hand tightened. He moved slightly in front of you, shielding you from Feyd-Rautha’s predatory gaze. His expression was calm, but the tension in his muscles told you he was ready for whatever was about to unfold.

"Here I am," Leto said, his voice steady, full of quiet resolve. "Here I remain."

Feyd-Rautha chuckled darkly, circling slightly as his men fanned out around you both, cutting off any potential escape routes. His eyes glinted with malicious glee, like a predator who had finally cornered his prey. "It seems you’ve made a habit of surviving things you shouldn’t have, Duke," he said, his lips curling into a sneer. "But this time, there’s no dragon to save you. Just you and me, and a lot of pain."

Leto stood tall, his eyes locked on Feyd’s. "I’ve faced worse than you, Harkonnen."

Feyd’s sneer deepened. "Then let’s see how well you fare with me." He raised his voice, loud enough for everyone in the cavern to hear. "Kanly!" Feyd declared, invoking the ancient feud between their Houses. He was issuing an official challenge—a duel, one that would determine the fate of both men. "It’s time for you to die, Duke. This ends now."

You felt your heart drop as Feyd-Rautha called for the duel. This wasn’t just a fight; it was a death sentence if Leto lost. But the look on Leto’s face was one of calm acceptance, as if he had been expecting this confrontation all along.

Leto turned slightly toward you, his hand brushing yours gently. His eyes softened for a brief moment, a silent exchange passing between you. You knew he wouldn’t back down. Not now. Not ever.

"I’ll handle this," he said quietly to you, his voice full of conviction. "Stay back. I won’t let him touch you."

You nodded, though the fear for him twisted in your stomach. You trusted him, but Feyd-Rautha was unpredictable, dangerous. Still, you took a step back, giving Leto the space he needed, but ready to act if things went wrong.

Feyd smirked, already moving to draw his blade. "Come then, Duke. Let’s finish this once and for all."

Leto’s expression remained stoic as he unsheathed his own blade, a curved, finely made weapon gifted to him by House Targaryen—a blade forged with Valyrian steel. He took a fighting stance, and you could see the measured determination in every movement.

The two men began circling each other, their eyes locked in a battle of wills before the first strike was even thrown.

Feyd-Rautha lunged forward, his blade flashing in the dim light, but Leto was faster, sidestepping the blow and delivering a counterstrike that caught Feyd off guard. The two clashed, steel meeting steel with a sharp ring, echoing through the cavern.

Feyd was quick, vicious, but Leto was precise. Every movement was calculated, controlled, while Feyd fought with fury and aggression. Their blades danced in a deadly rhythm, neither giving ground easily. You watched, heart pounding, as Leto fought with everything he had, never faltering, never backing down.

"You’re slower than I expected," Feyd taunted, his blade scraping against Leto’s. "All that time spent chasing dragons made you soft, Duke."

Leto didn’t respond, his focus entirely on the fight, every fiber of his being centered on bringing this to an end. Feyd lunged again, but this time Leto anticipated the move, sidestepping just enough to deliver a powerful strike that sent Feyd stumbling back.

Blood trickled from a cut on Feyd’s arm, and his sneer faded into a scowl of rage. He attacked again, more erratically this time, but Leto remained calm, deflecting each strike with measured precision.

You could see the tides turning, the careful strategy Leto had employed starting to wear down his opponent. Feyd was growing desperate, his attacks more reckless, while Leto continued to fight with a quiet, deadly grace.

And then, in a swift, fluid movement, Leto disarmed Feyd, sending the Harkonnen blade clattering to the ground. Feyd staggered back, eyes wide with shock and rage, but Leto didn’t hesitate. He held his blade to Feyd’s throat, the point pressing against the skin.

"It’s over," Leto said, his voice low and firm. "Yield."

Feyd’s chest heaved with fury, but he knew he had lost. There was no escape now.

For a brief moment, it seemed as though Feyd would concede, but then his eyes flickered with something darker, more dangerous. You saw it too, and your body shivered. Something wasn’t right.

But before either of you could react, Feyd-Rautha grinned, a sick, twisted grin. "It’s never over, Atreides," he spat, his hand darting toward something hidden in his sleeve.

"Leto!" you shouted, warning him just in time.

Leto saw the movement and reacted instinctively, twisting Feyd’s arm and knocking the hidden weapon—a small, poisoned blade—out of his grasp. With one final strike, Leto incapacitated him, sending Feyd crumpling to the ground, unconscious but alive.

Leto exhaled, stepping back, his chest rising and falling with the effort of the fight. He looked back at you, and you rushed forward, relief flooding your veins as you met his gaze.

"It’s over," he said again, this time to you, his voice softer.

You nodded, your hand reaching out to touch his arm. "For now," you replied quietly.

Feyd's men hesitated, uncertainty flickering across their faces as they took in the sight of their fallen leader. They exchanged nervous glances, their hands tightening on their weapons, but none made a move toward you or Leto. 

Then, with a deafening roar, Vexiae appeared.

The massive dragon burst into the chamber from the upper passage, her enormous wings folding back as she descended, her amber eyes glowing with fury. The ground shook beneath her weight as she landed, her sharp talons digging into the rock, and her head lowered, the primal growl rumbling deep from her throat. The Harkonnen soldiers scattered in terror, retreating from the sight of the enraged beast.

With one swift motion, Vexiae lashed out, her claws tearing through the ranks of the soldiers as if they were nothing more than paper. The men screamed in panic, scrambling to get away, but it was too late. Vexiae's powerful jaws clamped down on the remaining guards, her wrath swift and brutal. The ground trembled beneath her, the very air vibrating with the ferocity of her attack.

You stepped forward, raising a hand as Vexiae let out another roar, preparing to finish off the remaining enemies. "Vexiae!" your voice rang out clear and steady, cutting through the chaos. The dragon paused, her head swiveling toward you, her eyes softening at your command. "It’s over now."

Vexiae let out a low growl, her fiery eyes locking with yours for a moment. She knew you were safe, and her protective instincts began to ebb. You stepped closer, your hand gently resting on her snout as you calmed her. "You’ve done enough," you whispered, stroking the scales along her jaw. "Go now. Leave. We’ll be fine."

The dragon huffed softly, her breath warm against your skin, and for a moment, she lingered, reluctant to leave your side. But after another reassuring glance, she spread her wings and lifted off, her massive frame rising above the ground with a grace that belied her size. The wind from her wings buffeted the cavern, sending dust and debris flying as she flew off into the open desert sky.

Leto watched in awe as Vexiae disappeared from view, the dragon’s majestic form silhouetted against the stars. "I’m starting to understand more every day why they call you dragonlords," he muttered, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips.

You smiled, though the weight of the moment still hung between you. "We should go before more of them arrive.

Leto nodded, his hand finding yours as you both turned toward the waiting Ornithopter at the far end of the hangar. The bulky Harkonnen craft was your only way out of this labyrinth of caverns and danger. You moved quickly, slipping into the cockpit as Leto took the pilot’s seat, the controls lighting up under his hands.

As the Ornithopter lifted off the ground, you both looked back toward the cavern. Just as you gained altitude, a low rumble echoed from deep within the tunnels. The ground shook violently, and cracks snaked up the walls of the cavern. You exchanged a glance with Leto, your heart pounding in your chest.

Vexiae’s massive frame had triggered something, perhaps weakening the already unstable structure of the caverns. The ceiling began to crumble, large chunks of rock falling into the chamber below. Within seconds, the entire Harkonnen base was collapsing in on itself, consumed by the very earth it had sought to hide within.

Leto pushed the throttle forward, the Ornithopter speeding up just as the last of the caverns caved in, sealing the base in a tomb of rock and dust. You looked down through the window as the base was swallowed whole, the remnants of Feyd’s forces buried beneath the weight of their defeat.

"That was close," Leto muttered, his grip tightening on the controls.

You leaned back in your seat, your eyes lingering on the horizon as the desert stretched out before you. "Too close," you agreed softly, your mind already turning to what would come next. But for now, you had escape

As the Ornithopter cut through the desert winds, Leto’s tense posture began to ease. His hands relaxed slightly on the controls, though his eyes remained sharp, scanning the horizon for any remaining threats. After a long moment of silence, he allowed himself a small, exhausted smile.

“We deserve a vacation after this,” he jested, turning his gaze toward you. “I promised to take you somewhere special on Caladan. It’s a hidden cove, not far from the capital. The water is the purest blue you’ve ever seen, and the cliffs are dotted with these little caves where we can hide away from the world for a while. No armies. No enemies. Just us.”

You smiled, the idea of it sounding like a dream after all you had been through. The thought of standing with Leto by the sea, with nothing but the waves to worry about, filled you with warmth. “That sounds lovely,” you replied, your voice soft in the hum of the Ornithopter. “I’ve heard much about Caladan’s beauty. I’d love to see this cove of yours.”

Leto glanced at you, his smile widening as he imagined the two of you on the cliffs, the troubles of the galaxy far behind. “We’ll make it happen,” he said. “After this is over, we’ll go. A real escape, just for us.”

You leaned back in your seat, your eyes flicking to the stars outside. “And maybe after that,” you added, “we could visit Albiron. I could show you the place where my people survived, where we rebuilt from nothing. It’s not like anything in the known universe. The jungles are thick, the air rich with minerals… and the sky, Leto. The sky burns red with life. You’d love it.”

Leto’s gaze softened, intrigued by your words. He’d heard of Albiron, of the hidden world where your House had rebuilt itself from the ashes of Valyria, but the idea of seeing it through your eyes stirred something in him. “Albiron,” he mused. “I’d like that. To see where your people found their strength again. And maybe even meet the rest of your dragons.”

You laughed softly at that, imagining Leto surrounded by the beasts you’d grown up with, and for a moment, the future felt bright again, even amidst the turmoil surrounding you both.

As the Ornithopter sailed smoothly through the air, you and Leto exchanged quiet glances, the shared promise of something beyond war and politics hanging between you like a beacon of hope. Caladan. Albiron. A future where both of your worlds could exist together, away from the Emperor, the Sisterhood, and the endless conflicts that had defined your lives.

You turned your gaze back out toward the endless desert below, knowing there were still battles to fight, but for now, there was a promise. One of peace. One of love. A future, if you could claim it together.

And that was worth fighting for.

Gurney stood on the ridge, watching as the Harkonnen Ornithopter cut through the sky, its silhouette unmistakable against the horizon. His hand tightened on the trigger of the plasma cannon, his instincts honed from years of battle urging him to take the shot. "Another one," he muttered, his jaw clenched. "They just don’t give up."

His team stood ready beside him, weapons trained on the incoming Ornithopter, their movements tense and precise. The Harkonnen forces had been relentless, and Gurney had no intention of letting another enemy vanguard slip through their defenses.

"Steady," he called to his men, preparing to give the order to fire.

Just as his finger twitched on the trigger, a crackle came over the comms. At first, it was garbled, indistinct, but then Gurney heard a voice he knew all too well.

“Gurney, hold fire! It’s us!”

Gurney’s heart skipped a beat. He blinked, his hand freezing over the controls as the realization hit him. “Leto?”

The comms crackled again, clearer this time. “It’s Leto, Gurney! It’s me and Daenys. Don’t fire!”

Gurney let out a deep breath, his relief almost palpable as he pulled his hand back from the trigger. “Damn it, Duke. I almost shot you out of the sky.”

From inside the Ornithopter, Leto allowed himself a half-amused smile despite the tension. “I figured as much when I saw you lining up for a shot.”

“Just doing my job,” Gurney replied, his tone lighter now but still edged with the heaviness of the past hours of battle. “We’ve been swatting these Harkonnen flies left and right. Didn’t expect to see you piloting one of their crafts.”

“Long story,” Leto said, his voice steady as he expertly guided the Ornithopter in for a landing, the sand kicking up in small storms beneath the wings. “But we’re alive. Daenys and me.”

Beside him, you allowed yourself a small smile, though your mind was still racing from the narrow escape. Leto glanced at you, the weight of everything they had just gone through still hanging between you. "Gurney," Leto continued over the comms, "we’re coming in for a landing. Let’s regroup."

Gurney lowered his weapon, shaking his head with a mix of relief and exasperation. “You and that lass are going to be the death of me one of these days.”

The Ornithopter touched down with a soft thud on the desert sand, and Leto and you stepped out, both still feeling the adrenaline of the close call. Gurney jogged over, his weathered face stern but relieved as he clapped a hand on Leto’s shoulder.

"You gave me a heart attack, Duke. You too, lass," he said, glancing toward you.

You managed a smirk, still feeling the pulse of battle running through your veins. "Didn’t mean to," you replied, your voice steady but with an edge of fatigue.

Gurney turned his gaze between the two of you, his expression softening for a moment. “Glad you’re both all right.”

Leto nodded, his eyes meeting Gurney’s with a depth of gratitude that words couldn’t quite capture. "Thanks to you for holding the line, Gurney. But we’re not done yet. We’ve got work to finish."

Gurney, ever the loyal soldier, nodded sharply. “Then let’s get back to it.”

As Leto, you, and Gurney walked back toward the command post, the air was filled with the aftermath of battle. The desert sun hung low on the horizon, casting a soft light over the dunes. The winds carried the distant sounds of skirmishes still echoing in the distance, but the immediate area had quieted down significantly.

Gurney walked ahead, his face set in a determined grimace. He turned to Leto, reporting in a low voice, "Duke, something strange is happening. After those last frantic Harkonnen attacks, they’ve started retreating—rapidly. We’re just dealing with a few straggler forces now."

Leto’s brow furrowed as he looked up at the sky, a familiar shadow catching his eye. High above, Vexiae flew, her wings cutting through the desert winds as she soared toward the Targaryen base in the deep desert. Her powerful form seemed to command the very air itself as she disappeared into the distance.

“They’re falling back?” Leto asked, his voice thick with suspicion. “Why? That’s not like them.”

Gurney nodded. “Aye. It's like they’re pulling out suddenly. No real strategy. Just retreating. Maybe it’s the fear of what they’ve stirred up.” He gestured toward the direction where Vexiae had flown, his meaning clear.

You looked up at the sky, watching your dragon disappear toward the base, the weight of the battle and the uncertainty of the situation still hanging over you. But there was something else on your mind, something more personal.

“Leto,” you said, your voice quieter, your gaze shifting from the sky to him. “I need to contact my father. Let him and my brothers know that I’m all right.”

Leto turned to you, his eyes filled with understanding. He placed a hand gently on your arm, the warmth of his touch comforting after the ordeal you'd just gone through. “Of course. They’ll want to know you're safe.”

Gurney, ever watchful, glanced between the two of you, sensing the personal moment but keeping his focus on the task at hand. “I’ll make sure the comms are clear for you,” he offered, moving ahead toward the communications hub to ensure you could reach your family.

You turned back to Leto, your expression softening. "I don’t want them to worry," you added quietly.

Leto gave you a small smile, nodding. “We’ll get the message to them. And once we’ve regrouped, we’ll finish this.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words, knowing that the battles ahead would be fought side by side, with both of your Houses united. But for now, you focused on the immediate task—letting your family know that you were safe.

As the Atreides Ornithopter descended toward the stronghold in Arrakeen, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows over the desert landscape. The Atreides stronghold stood tall and imposing, a beacon of stability in the midst of the chaos that had gripped Arrakis. The moment the craft touched down, the ramp lowered, and you and Leto stepped onto the sand.

From the entrance of the stronghold, Aenys Targaryen, your father, appeared first. His usual regal demeanor was cast aside as he rushed forward, his silver hair catching the light as he moved with a surprising speed toward you. His eyes, normally calm and controlled, were filled with uncharacteristic concern.

“Daenys!” he called, his voice betraying the worry he had been holding back. The moment he reached you, he placed his hands on your shoulders, scanning you from head to toe as if reassuring himself that you were truly there, alive and well.

"Father," you greeted, your voice soft but strong, sensing the deep relief in his eyes. The stiffness you hadn't realized you were holding in your chest finally released at his touch.

Aenys exhaled, a small, rare smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You had me worried, child. When the news reached me of your fall, I—" He stopped, unable to complete the sentence, but you knew what he meant.

"I'm fine, truly," you reassured him, though the weight of everything you'd been through was still fresh in your mind. "And Vexiae... she lives as well."

Aenys nodded, knowing the bond between you and your dragon was just as strong as his with Vexarion. “Good. I’ve already received word of her return to the base.”

Behind him, Hawat stood near the entrance to the stronghold, his keen eyes observing the reunion. The old Mentat gave a quick nod to Leto, a look of relief crossing his sharp features. “Duke,” he greeted Leto formally, though the tension in his shoulders eased. “I’m glad to see you’ve returned safely.”

Leto, still recovering from the weight of what had happened, returned the nod. “It wasn’t easy, but we’re here,” he said, his gaze briefly drifting back toward you.

Aenys, however, remained focused on you. “What do you need?” he asked, his voice firm but gentle.

You turned to him, your voice steady but with an unmistakable urgency. “I want to see my children,” you said, the weight of the battle and everything else momentarily replaced by a singular need—the need to hold your newborns.

Aenys nodded once, understanding completely. "They’re safe. We kept them close while you were gone. Come, I’ll take you to them."

Leto watched you as you walked alongside your father, his expression softening. He knew how much your children meant to you, and after everything you had been through, they were the only thing that could truly bring you peace.

As the three of you made your way inside, Hawat and Gurney followed closely behind, ever watchful. 

...

As you made your way toward the nursery, the long corridors of the Atreides stronghold felt strangely quieter than usual. The air still carried the weight of everything that had happened, but here, in this secluded part of the stronghold, there was an almost sacred stillness. Your heart raced in anticipation of seeing your twins—your children, who had been safe while you were away, but whom you longed to hold once again.

You reached the door to the nursery and entered softly, your steps almost silent. Inside, the room was filled with the soft, comforting sound of your children breathing peacefully in their cribs. The twins were swaddled in fine cloth, and the gentle light cast a warm glow over the room. As you approached their cribs, your heart swelled.

The boy, already showing signs of his father's strength, stirred slightly as if sensing your presence. The girl, with features that mirrored your own, remained calm, her tiny chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. You knelt beside them, your hands brushing lightly over their delicate forms, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you allowed yourself a moment of true peace.

As you gently picked up your son and then your daughter, cradling them in your arms, the world outside seemed distant and irrelevant. This—this was what mattered. They were safe. You were together.

Meanwhile, back in the hall, Leto, Aenys, Gurney, and Hawat stood, the atmosphere between them tense but respectful. Aenys, standing tall and composed, cast a glance toward the door you had just disappeared through. His expression was unreadable for a moment, but then, he turned toward Leto.

“I owe you, Duke,” Aenys said quietly, his voice filled with sincerity but still carrying the weight of his authority. “You brought my daughter back to me safely, despite everything.” His eyes met Leto's, and though they were both men of great power and responsibility, in that moment, Aenys spoke not as the Dragonlord, but as a father.

Leto, still recovering from the ordeal himself, inclined his head, his voice low but steady. “It was a promise I intended to keep, no matter what. Your daughter means everything to me.”

Aenys nodded, appreciating the depth of Leto’s words. “She is Targaryen through and through—strong and stubborn. I see that much more clearly now.” There was a brief flicker of pride in his expression. “But to have a man like you by her side... I am beginning to see the wisdom in her choice.”

Hawat, ever the vigilant Mentat, studied the exchange carefully, noting the subtle shifts in tone and expression. The alliance between House Atreides and House Targaryen had always been a strategic one, but now, it had become something deeper—something more personal.

Gurney, standing nearby, broke the silence with his usual bluntness, though his tone was filled with respect. “She’s one hell of a woman, that’s for sure,” he remarked. “You’re lucky to have her, Duke.”

Leto couldn’t help but smile, his thoughts lingering on you and the children waiting for him in the nursery. “I know.”

Aenys allowed a small, rare smile to form. “As I said, I owe you, Duke. And I never leave a debt unpaid.”

Leto met Aenys’s gaze, the gravity of the situation settling over them once more. “We’ll settle that in time. But for now, I’m just grateful she’s here, and that we have a future to build together.”

Aenys nodded solemnly. “Yes, we do. And that future will be stronger than any empire built on sand.”

...

As you sat quietly in the nursery, the gentle rhythm of little Aenor and Rhaelys’s breaths filling the space, the door creaked open, and Paul stepped inside. His face, though calm as always, carried the weight of something deeper, something final. He moved toward you slowly, his eyes taking in the sight of the twins, his brother and sister, resting peacefully.

You glanced up at him, sensing the heaviness in his presence. “Paul,” you said softly, careful not to disturb the babies. “You’re leaving.”

Paul nodded, his gaze distant yet focused. “Yes... I have to go to Valyria,” he said quietly, the ancient name heavy on his tongue, as though it carried the gravity of his fate. “It’s where my path leads.”

You frowned slightly, your heart tightening at the thought of him embarking on such a journey. “Valyria,” you repeated, your voice filled with both curiosity and concern. “The Red Woman spoke of it, didn’t she?”

Paul gave a faint nod, his eyes not quite meeting yours, as though he were staring into a future only he could see. “Yes. She told me it’s where everything began... and where it must end.” He paused, glancing at the sleeping twins before finally meeting your gaze. “I have no choice. It’s my destiny.”

For a moment, silence hung between you, thick and unspoken, as you absorbed the weight of his words. Then, in a quieter voice, you said, “I’ll miss you, Paul. I’ve always wondered... in another life, on another path, who we might have been to each other.”

Paul’s expression softened, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips, but his eyes still carried that faraway look. “In another path... in another life, we would have been... different,” he said, his voice low and cryptic. “There would have been twins then too... but everyone else... everyone would have been gone. Dead. You... and I...” He trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid, but the weight of what he implied lingered between you like an invisible thread connecting your fates.

The faintest chill ran down your spine as you pondered his words, feeling the echoes of a life unlived, a destiny untaken. But Paul quickly stepped forward, reaching out to place a hand on your shoulder. “This path is different,” he added, his voice steadier. “We’re still here. The people we love... are still here.”

You nodded, offering a small smile, though the ache of saying goodbye tugged at your heart. “I will miss you.”

Paul smiled too, though his was tinged with the bittersweet acceptance of what lay ahead. “We’ll see each other again,” he said, his voice filled with quiet certainty. “Maybe not soon... but we will.”

He stepped back, his hand slowly slipping away, and with one final glance at Aenor and Rhaelys, Paul turned toward the door. Before he left, he stopped, his gaze meeting yours one last time.

“Goodbye,” he said softly, the word carrying more than just a farewell—it was a promise, a thread that stretched beyond this moment, this life.

You watched him go, the door closing softly behind him, and as the quiet returned, you couldn’t help but wonder, once again, about all the paths left untaken. But for now, this was your path—the life you had chosen, the one you had fought for. And no matter where Paul’s journey took him, you believed, deep down, that your fates would cross again.

...

As Paul approached the shuttle, its hull gleaming beneath the Arrakeen sky, the Red Woman stood silently waiting at its entrance. Her presence was as unsettling as ever, her eyes dark and knowing. Not far behind her stood Jessica, her expression stern but softened by an underlying sadness. She was preparing for a farewell she knew would change everything.

Paul’s steps were measured, as though he had already made peace with the path he had chosen. He glanced over his shoulder one last time, his eyes scanning the city he was leaving behind, the city he had grown up in, and the people he had come to know. And then, he heard his father’s voice.

“Paul!”

Leto, with Duncan and Gurney trailing behind him, was hurrying across the courtyard. His call carried with it an urgency and a grief he could barely contain. When he reached his son, he placed a firm hand on Paul’s shoulder, his grip stronger than usual, as if he were trying to hold onto something he knew he couldn’t keep.

“Take care of yourself out there,” Leto said, his voice low and thick with emotion.

Paul looked up at his father, the deep connection between them unspoken but understood. His gaze softened as he gave a small nod, the weight of the moment hanging between them like the desert’s silence.

“I will,” Paul said quietly, before offering a faint smile. “You… take care of her. Of Daenys.”

Leto’s grip on Paul’s shoulder tightened slightly at the mention of you. There was a flicker of something in his eyes—pride, love, and a deep sense of duty. He nodded, his voice softer now. “I will.”

Paul’s gaze lingered on his father for a moment longer, knowing that this goodbye wasn’t just about leaving a planet—it was about leaving behind the life he had known. The future was fluctuant, but Paul had already glimpsed fragments of it, and there was no turning back now.

With a final glance at Duncan and Gurney, Paul turned toward the shuttle, the weight of his destiny heavy on his shoulders. The Red Woman stepped aside to let him pass, her eyes following him with a knowing gaze.

Jessica, standing at the base of the ramp, gave Leto one last look, her eyes filled with a mixture of resignation and sorrow. The unspoken words between them were almost tangible, but neither said anything. Jessica knew that Leto’s heart had been irrevocably pulled toward you, and now, all that was left was the path Paul had to take. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she turned, following her son into the shuttle.

Leto stood rooted in place, watching as the shuttle door slowly closed, sealing Paul and Jessica inside. The hum of the engines grew louder, and the shuttle began to rise, lifting off from the surface of Arrakis with a smooth precision. The air around them shifted, hot and dry, as the ship took to the sky, disappearing into the horizon.

Duncan placed a hand on Leto’s shoulder. “He’ll be alright, my Lord,” he said quietly.

Leto’s gaze remained fixed on the now-empty sky where the shuttle had been moments ago. His thoughts, however, drifted back to you and the twins, and the promise he had just made to Paul.

“Daenys,” Leto murmured, almost to himself. “I’ll keep my promise.”

As the last trace of the shuttle vanished, Leto turned back toward his stronghold, his mind already on what lay ahead, not just for Paul—but for the future of your House and his.

...

In the years following Paul’s departure, the galaxy shifted. Slowly, like the sands of Arrakis under a relentless wind, the great powers that had once seemed so permanent began to wane. The Sisterhood, once whispering into the ears of emperors, began to lose their grip, as did Shaddam IV, the Emperor. They clung to power like dying stars, but the tides had changed. The Atreides-Targaryen alliance—what began as a simple partnership between two Houses, one burdened by prophecy and the other by exile—ignited a transformation no one could have predicted.

It wasn’t immediate. No revolution ever is. But over time, other Houses, ones once loyal to Corrino, started seeking favor from us. They came with veiled requests and open hands, desiring something new: Targaryen space theology. They wanted what we had discovered—our control of the Drakaon crystal that freed us from reliance on the Guild. The old ways were crumbling, and they knew it.

There was something about the way we had survived—the way we had rebuilt from ashes and thrived in the shadows of forgotten stars—that drew them in. Freedom. That was the promise. Freedom from the Guild’s stranglehold, from the reliance on spice that had enslaved the known universe for far too long. The secrets we held, born from exile and tempered by time, were now the currency of power. A power stronger than even the spice.

Leto... my Leto... He was always at my side, steadfast and unwavering. We built a future for our children together. Aenor and Rhaelys, their names born from our ancestors, carry within them both the strength of House Atreides and the fire of Valyria. One day, they will sit at the crossroads of two legacies, and they will wield the power we have cultivated over years of war and struggle.

I often watched them in the nursery, their curious eyes following the movements of their dragon eggs, cradled in warmth, waiting to hatch. Leto would smile at me, that knowing look in his eyes—he, too, understood the weight of our legacy. One day, the dragons will return what was once ours. One day, Valyria will rise again, not as it was, but reborn through us. Through our children. Through the future we’ve fought for.

But still… there are shadows on the horizon.

There was no word from Paul. The days turned into months, the months into years, and still, his absence hung over us like a storm not yet broken. Sometimes, I would close my eyes and see him—walking through a world reduced to ash and ruin, a world where both gods and men had died. I dream of him often, of the paths he may walk, of the choices he must make. And I wonder… what will he become? What will the galaxy become?

The winds of change have begun, but the storm had not yet arrived.

I stand at the precipice of what is to come, knowing full well that the dragons will lead the way. And though Paul is gone from Arrakis, though his path is uncertain, I know that we will meet again. In dreams or in reality, it does not matter. The future awaits us all.

For now, we remain vigilant. We are fire. We are blood. And the universe will know our name.

I am Daenys Targaryen, and this is only the beginning.

[viktoriaashleyyx]

Cover art by Konstantin Turovec

Here we begin to see more of where Sky has been this time, I am trying my hand at multifandom, but i feel i explained it well. If you're going to start reading this please finish it before getting mad at me. Rhysand is starting shit.

This is a pro Tamlin, anti Rhysand self insert revenge fic. All characters belong to SJM, but she wasn't treating them right. Tam x reader, Tam x Rhysands Sister (OC), First person narrative. This will also reference Elucien and Neris in the future but we aren't there yet.

Tw: violence, blood.

Ch1

Ch 5 >>> Ch 7

Chapter 6:

After dinner in Adriata, I portaled Tamlin and I home to the foyer of the manor, him shouldering the bags of clothes I purchased from the shops in Summer. It wasn't terribly expensive, I have just always loved supporting the local shops in the towns I visit.

There came a knock at the door just as Tamlin was heading upstairs. “Oooh! Visitors!!” I said excitedly as I ran to the door. Tamlin trailed closely behind me, setting the bags on the ground, because, for a while there, visitors didn't necessarily mean good things.

Pure fear consumed my face as I opened the door to see my brother, standing there holding his breath, and Lucien. It took only a second for my brother to drop Lucien and winnow away. “No! Lucien!” I screamed as I caught him, falling forward into me. His face was beaten and bloodied and a dagger stuck out from his back. I sat down on the ground, holding his head to my chest. There was so much blood, and it was pooling around me.

“Lucien, Lucien, stay with me. You survived Baron and your brothers, you will survive this.” Tamlin was panicking. “What about that potion you gave me when you first got back?”

“He would need to be able to swallow it.” I cried, tears streaming down my face. With shaky hands I grabbed his knees and pulled them up to me. Cradling him in my arms. I looked Tamlin dead in the eyes, “Trust. Me.” and Lucien and I fell through a portal.

We landed, just outside of the gates of Darnassus. I was kneeling, still holding him up in a seated position while the rest of his weight laid on the cool cobblestone underneath us. If I could get him to this realm, I could revive him myself. He had eaten the food of Azeroth many times, albeit unknowingly, it should be enough to send his soul to the angel that guards the grave. I hope it's enough. “Are you still with me?” I asked, looking for any sign of life. The only other step was that he die, here. Death in Azeroth is not as permanent as it is in Prythia. It's still terrifying, but if you can find your corpse you can resurrect, and I brought him directly to the graveyard where his soul would go.

He let out a soft groan, blood still pooling on the ground. Good, he's barely there, but he's still alive. “Let go.” I whispered to him, my voice shaky, he was obviously just the catalyst used to send me a message.

As I felt his skin growing colder, I looked to the graveyard in front of me. “Come,” I called, “come back to your body, you will be okay.” I could never see the spirits unless I was one, I had hope that I wasn't too late. Tears streamed down as I buried my face in his cold chest. “Please come back.” I cried

“You dare bring a blood elf onto these lands?” The sentries that guard the gates noticed me and were drawing weapons. In my haste, I failed to register that Lucien, and hell even Tamlin, could be mistaken for a Blood elf, enemies of the Night elves, I just brought us to the place I called home for many years. While Night elf skin is more cool toned, they are associated with greens, blues and purples, Blood elf skin is more warm toned associated with red, yellows and oranges.

“He's not a blood elf.” I snapped as I pulled the dagger out of his back, immediately putting pressure on the open wound. Please leave me alone, this is already traumatic enough. “Lucien,” I looked toward the graveyard, “come back to your body.” Fuck, this has to work. It worked for me the first time I died.

“Get out of here or we will kill you too, traitor.”

Just then a familiar purple raven with dark sigils designed on its feathers nose dived straight for us. As he neared, he shifted back into an elf and positioned himself between me and the guards. “Leave the lady be, I will take it from here.” The guards bowed and returned to their stations.

“Thorin,” I breathed, happy to see him. “Can you resurrect him?” Thorin was a good friend of mine during my time in Azeroth that I, occasionally, had sex with. We had risen to King and Queen together before I left him to move onto the next adventure. He looked like the closest version of Tamlin a Night elf could be, long blonde hair, glowing fully green eyes, impeccable figure. What can I say? I have a type. Also, he was a druid, and druids could heal and resurrect.

“I will give it my best effort.” He began his spell and it stopped. My heart sank until Thorin spoke again “the motherfucker is still holding on.” There is too much blood, there is no way. Thorin shot a healing blast straight into Lucien's chest and Lucien woke up, inhaling heavily. The blast speeds up the healing process to almost instant.

“Where am I? What's going on?” Lucien asked, trying and failing to jump up as my arms were still around him.

“You're fine, this is Darnassus, I lived here for many years and this is my friend, Thorin. He saved your life.” I explained gently. There was still a lot of fear in Lucien's eyes as he took in his surroundings and the elf that stood before him. The vibrant purple sky and soft green moss resembled a healthy mix of the scenery in Night and Spring, while the massive trees surrounding us added a flair of Autumn. I turned to Thorin “thank you, your timing was amazing. I would love to stay and catch up but we really need to get back.”

He bowed his head slightly, “the pleasure is mine, I'm glad I heard you when I did. Don't be a stranger, come back and see us when life settles down for you.” He bent over to give me a kiss on the forehead and he shifted back into his raven form and was off.

I whispered to Lucien “we should get back before Tamlin destroys the manor again.”

“That's a terribly dark joke,” he laughed, still resting in my arms, head back and eyes closed, “I won't tell him you said that and we will be even.”

“Fair,” I giggled as we fell back through a portal home.

Tamlin was pacing just outside the manor as we returned, dashing over to us the second his gaze met mine. I held Lucien still, one arm supporting his neck, the other under his knees. “Walking is going to be painful for a day or two due to where the knife was, but he should make a full recovery.” I said as I passed him off to Tamlin. “Help him out of his bloodied clothes and into bed.”

Tamlin looked down at Lucien, still trailing in and out of consciousness, “He's alive? What happened? Where did you go?”

“Yes, my ex revived him, and Darnassus.” He knew when I kept my answers short like this, to not press further. “I am going to bathe this blood off me, and I just got this dress too, damnit Rhysand, always starting shit, just leave us alone….” I complained out loud as I walked away. I assume Tamlin did as I asked, I did my part, and I am tired.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

I woke up the next morning, threw on one of my new dresses and headed to Lucien's room. I knocked “Lucien? Can I come in?”

“Come in,” I opened the door slowly and peeked in. He tried to get up, and I stopped him, sitting on the edge of his bed by his side.

“How are you feeling?”

“Groggy, weak.” He muttered, annoyed.

“That's to be expected, you died yesterday.” I reassured him softly. “I am truly sorry for what my brother did–”

“Don't pity me.” He snapped harshly, avoiding eye contact.

“Hah, this is far from pity. I am terrified of you. That much blood? For how long you held on? You are a tough one that's for sure, remind me to never get on your bad side.” I laughed and he tried to hide the smile forming on his lips. He was still holding onto that anger.

“Why? Why save me, you barely knew me?” He accused.

“Because you matter.” My tone was flat. My intention was not to flatter him, but to actually convince him. “Your value does not reside in how you can be of use to me, Lucien. You do not need to suffer for me to see you as a person whose right to life I respect.” His glare softened slightly, seeming to almost believe me. “What would you like for breakfast? I'll bring it up to you.”

“Just some fruit and maybe some water would be nice.” He whispered.

“Okay, I'll be right back” I pushed his hair out of his face and gave him a kiss on the forehead. “Door, open or shut?”

“You can leave it cracked.”

I returned moments later with a tray of mixed fruit and a couple glasses of water. He sat up as I placed the tray on his lap, sitting down next to him. “What happened when you returned to Night?”

Lucien sighed. “Rhysand initially sent me, ordered me, here to convince you to come back with me. I have been at his mercy since leaving Spring, and he figured the curse you put on him wouldn't apply to me since you didn't know of me. What I didn't expect was to return to a rebuilt manor and a Tamlin that not only welcomed me back with open arms, but also an apology. Spring has always been my home, until it wasn't, but after the day I spent with you and him, I felt like I got it back. I returned to Night to tell him that you had no interest in returning and I wouldn't be the one to force you. And, well, your brother doesn't like to be told he can't have what he wants.”

“If you had truly come to Spring with the intention of harm at my brother's behest, the curse would, most definitely, apply to you.” I clarified. “I don't believe you have it in your heart to ever really betray Tamlin.”

“I didn't, and even now it looks as though I owe Spring another life debt.” Lucien sighed.

“You owe me nothing, Lucien. I am not keeping score. That dagger was buried in your back because you stood up for me. You did the right thing and risked your life for someone you barely knew,” I reassured. “I would like to request that you stay here, or at least stay away from the Night court entirely. They believe you to be dead, and we can use that to our advantage later.” A small lie, but Lucien is too proud for his own good, so I knew I had a better chance of convincing him if he thought it to be strategy instead of worry.

“I understand, I would like to remain here, at least until I regain my strength, but I don't want to be treated like a fragile child.” Lucien pressed.

“That is fair, and while I do not, could not, see you as a child in any capacity, I can understand that my kindness may translate that way at times. Just let me know when it is too much and I will back off. Deal?”

“Deal.” He sighed.

I bid him farewell and left the room to allow him to rest. Tamlin was waiting out in the hall.

“How's he doing?”

“Better, he should be well enough to join us for dinner. But I fear I may have to face my brother sooner than I wanted to. It looks like he is going to keep leaving us these grotesque gifts until I hear him out.” I replied calmly as we made our way to the kitchen.

“I don't like the idea of you going there alone. I will be worried sick the entire time. Everyone I care about that has left for Night, has come back in pieces.” Tamlin admitted sternly.

“I need you to trust that I will be fine. His wards have no effect on my portals, no one in Prythia has any understanding of how they work or how to hinder them. I am no longer affected by ash or bloodbane. I will be okay. I promise. I need you here.”

“That's not going to stop me from worrying. Someone needs to protect you.”

I stopped walking and he turned to me. I relaxed the tension I held in my shoulders and looked up at him with a pout on my lips. I knew damn well I was powerful enough to take every High Lord in Prythia with one hand tied behind my back after taking six shots of pure bloodbane. But, I didn't have to fight anymore. I wouldn't have to. He wanted to protect me. Someone wanted to keep me safe. This is all I've wanted. He pulled me into his chest and I whispered, “Then come with me.”

Tag list: @ladythornofrivia @rcarbo1 @rin-u-pos @knoxic @lilah-asteria

[porcelainseashore]

The Other Son - WoD HalloZine "Haunting"

Commissioned art by @medeaft

Author's Note: It’s been such a joy to take part in @vampemoqueen’s WoD HalloZine—my very first zine! Thank you so much for this experience and putting it all together. Here’s a short story of Kai, my beloved Ventrue, and the shadows of the past that haunt them.

Content Warnings: Brief references to drugs, self harm, maybe suicide (if you squint?), nihilism, and murder of a child.

“Jesus!” they cursed as their feet plunged into the silty drainage and mud squelched underfoot.

It had only been a little over half an hour since Kai entered this godforsaken place, burrowing their way underground like vermin. Beyond the manhole covers overhead, cars zoomed by and train tracks rumbled. They were still close to the surface, close enough to hear the city breathe.

However, down here, filth and grime carved out names for themselves on the grooved walls. At first, they gagged at the stench, finding it unbearable, but as their senses adjusted, one smell blended into another, like a sickness they could no longer distinguish. 

Under normal circumstances, they would never be caught dead wandering around the sewers downtown. But since when were things normal? Like all fledglings turned neonates, they had been obeying tall and elusive orders every night since their Embrace. Except, they weren’t like the others—they were groomed to succeed and never to fail.

There was another splash as the ground sucked them in, causing them to sink knee-deep.

“For Christ’s sake!” they yelled again in frustration.

All at once, they heard the scolding voice of Liezel, their mother, resounding in their head just like it was yesterday, “Kai! How many times must I tell you? Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain!” 

They mouthed the words as it came. Liezel’s arms were akimbo, her brows furrowed as spittle flew across the room. She had rapped their knuckles harshly with the wooden handle of a feather duster for good measure.

Kai could feel the sting of pain upon their hand, as clear as day, but sharper still was the humiliation, the hurt pride. Their younger stepbrother, Alfie, had giggled to himself in the corner. They clenched their fists. People said they took after their mother’s temper, and more often than not, they found themself agreeing.

At this point, their tailored pants and leather shoes were soaked through and ruined. Even dry cleaning wouldn’t be able to salvage them in their miserable state. Grimacing, they brushed beads of waste water off their waistcoat—it was Sisyphean, almost—as new drops replaced old, blooming in piss-drunk patches across silk weaves. 

Why had their sire, Elena, sent them here again? Oh yes, “The sewer rats,” she said. “They’re hiding something from us. Find out what it is.”

They flipped their damp bangs away from their face in annoyance. Nearly two decades as a Kindred and they were still an errand runner—to Elena, to Lady Josephine, and in turn, to Baron Judge, the overarching Camarilla… Stringing them along with faint promises of power, like seductive wisps of smoke unfurling from their tongues, slithering into their ear and making a home in the hollow cavity of their skull.

Well, there were no sewer rats here. Through the dimmed shadows of light, all they could hear was the sound of sewage flushing through the system, pipes hissing and shaking, and molded moisture leaking from the arched ceilings. As they took a right, a group of vagrants huddling over a naked fire in an oil drum eyed them suspiciously. One crawled out from his tattered cardboard bed and shambled over to them.

“You got any er—”

Fentanyl. Meth. Heroin. He probably thought he could score some. The mole people—the homeless, the addicts, the outcast. They lived underground, in the flood tunnels, because there was nowhere else to go. Sometimes the water would reach so high that a bunch of them would drown. Not being quick enough made them easy pickings for the Nosferatu, but still bad blood all around.

Kai scrunched their face in disgust before relaxing their expression. Maybe they would have some use for this pitiful thing in front of them. With a practiced smile, they simpered, “I do… but first, tell me, how well do you know this place?”

The man coughed and shivered, grinning with swollen gums and putrid teeth. “Like the back of my hand.”

A guide. The gatekeeper of the sewer entrance had talked at length about its subterranean depths. Perhaps this man would know more. Raising an eyebrow, Kai focused their gaze, making sure their eyes met. A thin ring around their irises glowed—subtle, enticing, yet demanding. “Take me to its belly.”

He blinked slowly, once, twice, and then nodded. “This way,” he beckoned, turning around and trudging off through the labyrinth like a good soldier.

And so, Kai carried on, past winding corridors and forgotten lairs, crushing soiled glass and used needles beneath their heels. At the sides, strange altars decorated with melted wax candles and rotting pomegranates honored secret gods. The tunnels got darker and colder, so much so that they had to rely on their phone light to brighten up the path, but the guide didn’t seem bothered. In fact, he became livelier the deeper they went, as if he were drawing energy from some unknown source.

“Albert and Persephone would have a field day with this,” Kai grumbled under their breath, mocking the two absent members of their coterie behind their backs. Sarcasm dripped from their lips, cloying and condescending. 

They recognized that same unease they felt whenever Albert conducted one of his ceremonies, or the time they witnessed Persephone casting eerily-shaped shadows from her bare hands. The taint of Oblivion clutched at their unbeating heart and made their skin crawl.

Distant screams and moans from an alley interrupted their thoughts and a gnarly hand tugged at their arm. “Not there,” the guide warned before taking off again along another passageway.

The metallic stairs they descended afterward screeched on its hinges, clanking against the wall. Kai wondered how far down they went. It felt like they had been walking for miles. At some point, their phone light flickered and went out, and they stood in total darkness on the suspended staircase swaying in the chilled air.

It was so silent you could hear a pin drop, which was weird, precisely because they heard nothing. No creaking, no footsteps, not even the sound of one’s breathing.

Where had their guide disappeared to? Was this some kind of twisted prank they had fallen for? But it couldn’t be, that mortal should’ve succumbed easily; they saw him submit, enslaved by their will, he couldn’t—

“Kai! Help me, please!” a shrill cry pierced their left ear, shocking them to the core as they stumbled blindly forward, tumbling down the flight of stairs.

When they finally hit the rock-hard ground, something wet and sticky trickled down the side of their face as a dull, throbbing ache blossomed from the crown of their head. “Shit,” they muttered, tasting tangy iron on their lips, like licking a battery.

Dazed, they tried to pick themself up, only to slip on the waxy surface, falling into the muck on all fours. Shame and embarrassment rushed in twofold, rising like waves of heat towards their chest. That prickly feeling at the back of their throat returned, threatening to come apart. This couldn’t be happening—not to them, they didn’t deserve this.

“What do you think you deserve?” the same voice whispered in their ear. Cold, unnatural, and unfeeling, but uncomfortably familiar.

“I deserve a lot more than you!” Kai had screamed, back when they were kids playing on the cliffs along the coast. Resentment reared its ugly head as they glared down at their stepbrother. His chubby hands grasped the cliff’s ledge while he dangled in mid-air, squirming beneath Kai’s feet.

“I deserve all of this!”

They could crush him right now, that stupid weakling who’d never worked a day in his life, who’d everything handed to him on a silver platter, just because he was the favorite. 

No one would know. 

Crush him.

Do it.

The whispers grew louder as they buried their head in their hands and growled.

“Kai! Help me, please!”

They took one more look at their stepbrother’s soft brown eyes and the ocean of tears that had welled up in them, before setting their foot down on his tiny fingers, treading on them like ants. Alfie lost his grip and Kai had watched quietly as his body was reduced to a simple ragdoll in the tempestuous wind. His limbs tossed about wildly as the howling gust drowned out the boy’s cries. Jagged bedrock by the cliffside framed its subject like a moving watercolor painting. If they squinted, they could pretend it was a bird diving to catch its prey.

They waited, patiently and then some more, until the red sea foam turned pale, and all that was left was a memory of what once was. One less mouth to feed, one less child to fawn over, one less rival to tussle with. Time didn’t bring any remorse. Perhaps they had been a monster even before they were reborn.

From afar, an unearthly roar and mechanical whir shredded through the stillness, jolting them back into the present. Was this what the Nosferatu were hiding? Kai had heard stories of otherworldly entities that existed on this plane, undecipherable, unseen to the naked eye. There were more than just Kindred around, and they were beginning to realize that they weren’t on the top of the food chain.

Bolting forward, they couldn’t care less if they looked more animal than human as the sludge clung to their feet. It felt like a mass of hands creeping up their legs, dragging them down into the dirt where they belonged. They should’ve been put down for what they did. But they felt nothing. Years and months of nothing. At the funeral, they pressed a shard of glass into their palm, squeezing it within the pocket of their trousers, so that they would cry. Liezel couldn’t look at them for weeks.

Maybe this was the day of reckoning, their last chance to repent, but was there really something to feel guilty for? They had merely taken what was rightfully theirs from the beginning—before their mother remarried another man they were forced to call father, before they were told to sacrifice whatever they had for the sake of the other son.

They had reached the end, knowing this to be so as loose stone and rubble gave way, crumbling into the void pit below. It was pitch black, a long drop into a vortex of emptiness. For every second they stopped to pause, the darkness enshrouded them further, heavy and suffocating as it seeped in through their orifices.

And they were back on the cliff, at the scene of the accident. Although, instead of Alfie, it was Kai who was standing at its edge, waiting to be pushed.

“How does it feel to be in my shoes? How does it feel not to exist?” The tone was derisive, contemptuous.

Did Alfie expect them to accept their fate? To beg for forgiveness and mercy? They convulsed with laughter, the sound ricocheting off the walls. Their body was hollowed out, empty, a vacuum where nothing could be replaced.

There was only one thing left to do. Fear and weakness had no place in the Clan of Kings.

“Don’t you know?” they remarked, eyes black as coal. “I always win.”

And then, they jumped.

Dividers by @diableriedoll

[samijey]

If one were new to watching NXT and wanted to catch up with all the trickunov promos and matches... where does one start

Oooo you came to the right place, you know she got the full encyclopedia for those two 😩 but heads up, it's LONG

Carmelo is obviously gonna be all over this thing because this storyline was a three-way feud for a long time and Trick's relationships with him and Ilja paralleled each other for a long time.

Sidenote that I'm only pointing out the stuff relevant to the Trickunov relationship and the characters interacting with it, but there was a lot of fun "ship-friendly" stuff going on in NXT at this time that you can keep an eye out for in case you happen to enjoy it and want to follow it too - some examples are the Axiom/Nathan partnership (my beloved comic book bfs and the only duo that's still together today 🥲), the Lyra/Tatum toxic yuri saga, the creation of the Wolf Dogs, Tiffany vs Fallon etc.

For all the Trickunov canon thus far, we're starting in February of 2023 with their very first on-screen interaction - below is a list of pretty much all the moments that directly or indirectly impacted their rivalry:

February 07 - Carmelo (w/Trick) vs JD McDonagh

February 14 - Ilja backstage interview + in ring promo w/ Trick + Trick and Melo backstage segment

February 21 - Ilja vs Trick I + locker room segment w/ Trick, Melo and Tyler

Then they both get caught up in other stuff for a bit so you can skip ahead to:

July 11 - opening segment + Ilja vs Bron (much better than the one we just had on raw AND it had important stakes) + main event tag match w/ Judgment Day

July 18 - opening segment + backstage segment with Schism

The Great American Bash 2023 - Carmelo vs Ilja I

July 25 - Melo, Trick and Ilja vs Schism + post-match backstage angle + backstage segment with Trick and Melo + main event segment.

August 01 - Backstage segment w/ Trick and Melo + Ilja promo package (this one is easy to miss - it plays at the very end of the episode, after the main event match)

August 08 - In-ring promo between Trick and Ilja

Heatwave 2023 - Ilja vs Trick II

August 15 - nothing too relevant in this episode but I like the backstage segment between Melo and Wes for how it hints at Melo becoming a heel + Trick makes a silly dragon pun after his match with Gulak + there's a short hype package for their match that plays before Tyler vs Joe;

August 29 - Ilja in-ring promo (where he starts by singing Trick's praises and ends up getting bullied by Meta-Four lmfao)

September 05th - Ilja vs Oro post-match segment w/ Wes and Melo + backstage segment w/ Trick and Ilja

September 12 - Ilja vs Wes Lee + backstage segment between Trick and Melo

September 19 - Ilja backstage interview + Trick & Dom backstage interaction + Melo vs Dom (w/ Ilja on commentary) + Melo parking lot interview

No Mercy - Carmelo vs Ilja II

September 26 - Trick vs Gacy post-match interview + Backstage segment w/ Trick and Melo + Fatal Four-way match + Melo and Ilja contract signing

October 03 - In-ring segment between Ilja, Trick and Melo + Trick vs Dom

October 10 - this is the famous crossover episode extravaganza but watch the opening segment + Ilja vs Dom (w/ LA Knight as the ref lmfao) because it's messy fun and Trick makes an appearance. The Trick & Melo segment with John Cena is also important foreshadowing

October 17 - Carmelo in-ring promo feat. multiple "guests" + Trick's backstage attack + main event match

Halloween Havoc (Night 2) - Ilja vs Melo III

You can skip a bit again while Ilja deals with Corbin and Melo continues to act shady but please watch Ilja vs Nathan from the 28 November episode - it's short but it's great and it displays how volatile Ilja was during his feud with Baron Corbin - it's even on YT in full here. Then watch Deadline for the Men's Iron Survivor match and the brief post-match angle after Ilja vs Corbin (I'm not a fan of this match but the promo package is very good in giving Ilja some more depth, so check that out too)

December 12 - Two opening segments + medical room promo + main event segment

December 19 - Backstage segment between Trick and Melo + Ilja in-ring promo + backstage segment between Trick and Ilja + another one with Trick and Melo + Ilja vs Ridge Holland post-match angle (tw for like REALLY good selling - a lot of people thought it was legit when it leaked from audiences at the tapping)

December 26 - Backstage segment between Melo and Trick + Contract signing segment between Trick and Ilja (plays after the main event match)

January 02 - New Year's Evil is just extra story development with a few fun cameos - watch Kelly's backstage report after the opening match + the segment between Melo, Trick and a surprise Grayson Waller + another segment later between Melo and Trick + Trick vs Grayson (feat. another great cameo)

January 09 - Backstage Melo & Trick segment (also PLEASE watch the Fallon and Tiffany segments even if you're not following their story, they are GOLD)

January 16 - Opening match (optional) + Melo, Trick and Ilja backstage segment + another Trick and Melo one later on discussing Vengeance Day

January 23 - Ilja backstage interview + Trick and Melo backstage segment + Trick vs Briggs w/ Ilja on commentary + Trick and Melo backstage after the match

January 30 - Melo and Trick backstage segment + main event promo between Trick and Ilja

Vengeance Day - Ilja vs Trick III

Feb 06 - Opening segment + Ilja in-ring segment + Melo's in-ring promo + Ilja vs Dijak

Feb 13 - Not much here, just Melo defeating Gacy in a match and mouthing off at the camera to taunt Ilja

Feb 20 - Melo promo + Ilja promo

Feb 27 - Ilja & Melo in-ring promo + Ilja & Ava backstage + Melo promo + main event segment (Ilja was so unserious here and I live for it. also lots of Paxlyra on this one)

Not much happens between Roadblock and Stand & Deliver (April 06) - watch the post-main event promo from Trick on March 19 and the final confrontation between him and Melo on the April 02 main event segment. The Ilja vs Tony feud isn't mandatory viewing but the segments are fun and so was their PLE match. Trick vs Melo sadly wasn't that great, so you can choose to just watch their actual final match later on instead

Road Block - Melo vs Tony

April 09 - Main event segment between Ilja and Trick

Here you'll notice WWE started WILDLY rushing things due to the upcoming Draft (because ofc they'd fumble near the finish line).

I believe the final Trickunov match was originally supposed to be at Heatwave - marking exactly 1 year since the match that, in-storyline (and irl) started Trick's rise to stardom. This is based on the abrupt shift in storyline flow and the original Heatwave marketing, which prominently featured them both, as well as Lyra and Carmelo (it has since been updated to remove the three who got drafted).

So what ended up happening was the last match was booked for Spring Breakin' instead so Ilja could be called up immediately after. The same thing happened to Lyra and her story with Tatum and I'll be forever bitter about it. Back to viewing:

April 16 - Trick vs Melo (the "real" end to their feud + Ilja shows up at the end too)

Spring Breakin' April 23 - Ilja vs Trick IV

Bonus: backstage footage of Spring Breakin' included in this video package that honestly feels so in-character that I'm simply choosing to consider it kayfabe-compliant lmfao + Ilja's draft to RAW feat. a very funny reaction from Trick and the post-draft interview where you can see Trick in the background listening in and smiling + reacting and laughing when Ilja says sharing a roster with Gunther is "destiny" and I thought it was cute?

And that's it!... for now 🙏

Extra bonus moments post- Spring Breakin':

Trick thanks Ilja

Meta-Four make fun of their relationship

[sebastianswallows]

The English Client — Thirty-six

— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.

— WARNINGS: none

— WORDCOUNT: 2.3k

— TAGLIST: @esolean @localravenclaw @slytherins-heir @thiefofthecrowns

I

It wasn’t until the afternoon that she and Tom were free to leave the station. A few of the Baron’s closest friends, among them Signor Luce, had vouched for their presence at the shop the night before, although none of the parties would explain why they were there at all. From the looks exchanged between Inspector Bombulo and the sergeant, they must have suspected something foul. Human trafficking, probably… But nothing that they could accuse the Baron’s wealthy friends of. Caught in the middle of this cavalcade and seeming innocent, they were released.

The two went home together and stayed quiet the whole way. The morning trams had just started running, but they felt none of the exhaustion that they should have. Adrenaline ran its shrill course through both of them. Tom went with her to her flat without even asking and privately dreaded what she’d say when they were finally in the safety of her room, but she prolonged his suffering and continued to say nothing much at all. Every time he looked at her he could see her eyes wide with fear and dark with grim foreboding. She always did love to fret so much, his dear…

“Is my Italian really that bad?” he asked as they were taking their shoes off.

She looked up at him from beneath her lashes and finally smiled. “Not half as bad as your French.”

He was relieved to have even gotten an insult from her — something which only weeks ago would’ve been outrageous to him.

She undressed, then gently stripped the clothes off him as well. Donatien’s clothes. If Tom had much life left in him he would’ve blushed. Without even asking how he’d come to wear them — had she even caught him changing back from the Polyjuice potion? — she threw them to the side and hugged him, skin melting against skin. He read in it apologies and supplications for having kissed Donatien, but could only smile. He had been the one to tempt her, after all.

“It was a horrible night,” she muttered against his chest.

“Oh, I don’t think it was so bad,” said Tom with a thin smile, his arms wrapped around her tightly.

“Of course you don’t. You finally got what you wanted.”

Too proud to ask for her forgiveness, Tom said nothing more, and in the bright morning, they went to bed together. He found that he preferred the silence. If neither of them said a word they could pretend the night had never happened, that everything was just as it was before, and would keep being so without such a fast-approaching end to all of it. But he could feel her holding onto him more tightly than she ever did, and he might’ve done the same. With fingers intertwined, she clasped his hand in hers as if to dream was to risk being cast adrift.

II

They were woken up quite late, at around six in the evening, by the ringing of the telephone. She rolled out of bed like a clumsy little storm and picked up before Tom could even groan.

“Yes?” she sighed. “Hello, mother. Yes, I sound tired because I am. No, I —” A pause in contemplation. “No, you know what, yes, I did just wake up.” The ghost of angry chiding on the other end. “Because I came in late last night. Anyway, how are you?”

Tom, lying on his stomach and so sleepy he could hardly feel his body, turned his head to look at her. There was a different quality to her voice that day, an impetuousness, a sharpness, something consummately stronger. He knew he’d had no part in it but he still felt quite proud.

“No,” she sighed, “I can’t tell you why. Because I can’t. And actually, I don’t even want to tell you. That’s right. Fine then. Fine. Go ahead, hang up.”

She slammed the receiver down as soon as it began to beep. Then, like a naked warrior emerging from the heat of battle, she fell upon the bed and groaned. Tom chuckled as he watched her cuddle close to him again and opened his arms to receive her.

III

“Mmmm… What time is it?”

“Half past one.”

“Damn.”

“I made tea.”

“Is it magic tea?”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious!”

“Do you want it or not?”

“Yes, please.”

“Then sit up.”

“Thank you…”

“And to answer your question, yes, I did brew it with magic.”

“REALLY???”

“Careful! You’ll spill it!”

IV

The whole day was wasted, at least from Tom’s point of view. He was stared at as if she could just by looking at him discover yet newer and more fascinating things about him. And the questions, the endless questions… She wanted to know where he’d learned everything and could hardly believe that it was in a school. Tom must have made it sound like the most ordinary thing — because, to him, it was. She was expecting, of course, that it was from some hermit living in a cave or a secret cult of witches, or from a book that she too could have found and read. Tom had to tell her with a secret little sting in his heart that it was not possible.

Then, quite reasonably, she wanted to know just what he’d done to Mr. Malfoy.

“I can’t tell you. But it’s harmless, I promise.”

He’d brought the book home as well, still in its decorative box. It amused him how although she’d handled it extensively the night before, now she was too afraid to touch it. She stared at it intensely though after Tom took it out. They made plans together on where to hide it. There was no indication that the Carabinieri would visit them at home but he wanted to prepare just in case.

“I’ll be damned if I let it fall into muggle hands again.”

“What’s a muggle?”

“…Nevermind.”

In the end, he decided to disguise it as a box of matches. It took several minutes for her to close her mouth after she saw him perform the simple spell, and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t cute.

“They’ll get suspicious if they see it and notice you don’t smoke, though,” she said once she came back to her senses. “Especially considering they’re investigating arson at the Baron’s library.”

“…Packet of chewing gum, then.” He’d never before been so happy to have such a clever girlfriend.

“So you can just… change something into something else?”

“Magic would be very dull if it couldn’t even accomplish that, wouldn’t it?”

“And people too?”

“Well…”

“And people too?”

“To be specific, that’s a potion.”

“TOM!”

“OW!” he shouted as she hit him in the arm. He realised now whenever she’d done it before she was only playing at it.

“I knew he sounded strange!”

“The potion doesn’t change your voice, I had to — Ow!”

“And you made me feel bad about it!”

“You chose to feel bad. Ah, stop it!”

Fortunately, she was too distracted with hitting every part of him she could reach to ask what happened to the real Donatien. With any luck, she never would know.

Slowly, as they always did, they made up, and to wash all the unpleasantness out of her mind the faster Tom suggested they go out. They went for a walk, stopping for a quick meal at the first clean restaurant they saw, and by sunset, they found themselves before the Baron’s building.

There was still a little crowd outside and a police car that was empty, but they’d missed most of the fuss. The fire had been contained before it consumed the whole building, but the library was completely destroyed. The newspapers were reporting speculation that the blaze was the result of an occult ritual gone wrong, and by the time the two of them joined the onlookers the latest whisper was that the old man had tried to open a portal to hell. Tom couldn’t be happier.

“I won’t ask why you’re smiling.”

“Good.”

“But I know you shouldn’t.”

“Oh come now, don’t you find it at least a little bit amusing? And fitting?”

“You’re horrid.”

“You’ve only just noticed?”

She sighed but kept holding his hand.

“What happens now?” she asked as they started walking home.

“What do you mean?”

“Will you leave me?”

A lump formed in his throat and he had to force the words out. It was a struggle to speak calmly, smoothly, with no sign of a tremble in his voice.

“I have to.”

“But why?! You’re a… you’re a wizard,” she whispered, even though there was nobody around anymore. “You can live anywhere, do anything!”

“If only it were that simple…”

Her face was such a perfect melding of angry and sad. It was, in fact, perfect in every way.

“You just think I’m not good enough for you, don’t you?” she said, standing before him with heartbroken fury.

The thought had crossed his mind. It was actually one of the favourite things he told himself when he needed a reminder that he’d have to leave. But the longer he searched for an answer for her, the more he was confronted with the looming phantom of a thought — the truth was in fact the opposite: he’d never felt good enough for her.

“Tom,” she sighed, wrapping her arms around herself. “Just tell me…”

“Why? Would it give you great pleasure in hearing it?”

“No,” she said with a pained smile. Her voice wavered with unshed tears. “But I’d rather hear it than keep thinking it. Pull it out of my head and be done with it.”

Her voice struck Tom like a blade, like a talon, like a thorn caught somewhere between his heart and ribs that pained him with every breath. It would’ve been so easy to say it, just as he’d found it easy to think it, but the words got stuck along the way and choked him.

It started snowing just then, the first snow of the year. Neither of them cared to look at it. Her face was veiled behind her foggy breath and slowly stars of snowflakes gathered in the soft canopy of her hair. Tom reached to touch one and let his gloved hand linger until he could cup her face. She stepped closer, a lost doe seeking warmth, and pressed her hands against the lapels of his coat.

“Ask me to come along with you again,” she said. “Ask me one more time, just like you used to.”

He cocked a brow. That was the last thing he had expected her to say. Every time he’d offered she shot him down, and now? She knew just as well as he did that it would look suspicious, given the circumstances. But something in her voice was… desperate. Was she really as in love with him as she seemed to be, or was she just expecting him to get her out of trouble?

“Ask me,” she said again.

“Why? You’ve said no plenty of times.”

In truth, he’d only asked her to join him in England in an attempt to gain her trust — to get closer to the book. The Polyjuice solution had made her no longer necessary as he could get the book from Malfoy directly in a way that satisfied the protection spells around the shop. But standing before him she seemed genuinely hurt in a way Tom couldn’t comprehend — or didn’t want to. He had barely begun to comprehend his own feelings, fraught as they were.

Her jaw was tight, her eyes smouldered, and Tom remained silent and unmoving. Whatever it was she thought, she didn’t say it. Instead, she turned sharply on her heels and left. Or would have. Tom had gripped her elbow and he would not let her go.

“Why do you wish to leave with me? Why now?”

She threw a frown at him, so angry at his rejection that it clouded all her thoughts. She said nothing but it didn’t stop Tom from trying to read her mind.

“Why?” he asked again.

But she ripped herself out of his grip before he could read her thoughts and turned away, trotting through the soft floating snow.

V

He plated the book in front of him and it landed with a gentle thud. With the reverence of a bridegroom on a wedding night, Tom reached down and pulled the cloth away and saw the horrid face of dead dry leather, stitched up, shining in the candlelight. He had to convince himself he was worthy of touching it. It wasn’t every day he read a book written by the devil. He spent a few moments just contemplating the cover, the feel of it, the binding, the scent of an old corpse... Books like this should be savoured. It was like a whole new world one stepped in with their fingers, a mind cracked open like a shout of thunder crashing through the air.

What craftsmanship that had gone into it, what care… Going as far as selecting the right skin for it, the blood to make the ink, the parchment lacquered in black wax to make the pages shine. Someone had loved this book with all the fervour and the pain of a mother giving birth, and throughout its lengthy life so far, it had known many other loves. Obsessive, possessive love, yet reverent as well. It did not escape Tom’s notice that it would make a worthy Horcrux.

But, on the off-chance that it really was written by a demonic being, binding his soul to it might not be such a good idea.

He cracked it open. It groaned. The pages sighed upon being exposed and the front cover fell upon the desk like a foot tapping down. The same devil on the frontispiece waved at him in silence as that which Mr. Malfoy saw.

“Venetiae, apud Aristidem Torchiam & LCF,” he read out loud. Looking more closely, he noticed a thin writing on the foot of the demonic throne, almost less of a text and more of a clawed scribble. “Sic luceat lux… Thus let the light shine.”

[phoebepheebsphibs]

Trying My Worst

Title: Chapter 1/?? Prompt: passing out from pure exhaustion Fandom:  ROTTMNT Word Count: 1099  Author: PhoebePheebsPhibs Rating: Gen Characters: Michelangelo & Baron Draxum Warning: Description of fainting/passing out Summary: Notes: No Beta, We Die Like Gram-Gram! More chapters to follow...

@tmnt-write-fight @remedyturtles

Link to AO3 <-

Mikey had never been that exhausted in his entire life.

Not even after staying up for a full three days of non-stop fighting to defeat the Shredder when he was first resurrected.

Okay, maybe that's pushing it a bit. He did pass out instantly once the threat was gone and the adrenaline gave out.

But one night of sleep later and he was fine!

The week after the invasion from the Krang was a different story.

Mikey's arms turned to golden light and cracked all the way up to his shoulders as he forced open a hole in time and space to save his brother. Everything after that was a blur.

He remembered Leo falling through, winking at the Krang Prime before turning to check on Leo and falling on top of him in a desperate hug as they all watched the sun rise over NYC from Staten Island.

But then... Mikey wasn't so sure, The last thing he recalled was leaning against Raph's arm for support as Donnie called for a pickup. And then... blackout. Mikey's knees gave out from under him as the world began to spin and all strength left his body. He couldn't feel his arms anymore. He couldn't hear Raph's panicked voice as he caught Mikey. He just fainted, passed out, knew no more.

Mikey 'woke up' a few times on the ride back home. Though he didn't remember any of it. He was completely out of it, eyes unfocused and consciousness disconnected from reality. They told him the first few times he woke up, he didn't say anything, just looked around in confusion before passing out again.

The rest of the week was basically the same.

Mikey's body was utterly exhausted from the overuse of ninpo and mystic abilities. Draxum came in to check him over and warned them that Mikey's body needed to rest for a few days to heal up from the overexertion it went through.

Mikey slept for at least a day and a half before actually waking up. And even then, he was on the moon. He could barely speak without babbling endlessly about who knew what and crying every time someone even looked at him because he 'just loved them so much'.

Mikey's arms were completely out of commission. They were fine, or at least they would be. But 'Mikey's little mystic stunt' as Draxum put it would leave his limbs numb and floppy for quite some time. The mystic cracks would disappear, the scars fade into nothingness, and his arms would return to normal once his body had gotten enough rest.

It only took a week. To everyone else, this was a miracle. To Mikey, it was torture.

A whole week of bedrest and not being able to use his arms?? Forget the fact that meant no art or cooking, it also meant he couldn't play video games or scroll online! Couldn't feed himself, couldn't read a book without having someone else turn the pages, couldn't even change the channel on the TV when they set him up on a couch bed. Couldn't itch himself if something got under his shell. Mikey literally could do nothing without asking for help.

And he had ADHD. Meaning he physically needed to do something with his hands and brain. Or else he'd go insane.

"Why does God hate me..."

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

"Let me see how your hands are doing, Michelangelo."

Mikey shakily held out his arms for Baron Draxum to inspect. He wiggled his fingers at him. They were a little sore, the joints felt a bit sticky, and his fingertips were wildly tender and sensitive, but he was managing fine. Ready to get back into using his extremities again! Ready to draw and paint and cook his own meals and do ninja tricks and razzmatazz!

Barry looked his hands over, gently pressing his thumb and forefinger against the scarred tissue and asking 'Can you feel that?' 'Yes.' 'Does it hurt?' 'Not really.' 'How about now?' 'Ouch!' and so on.

"You're healing quickly," Draxum congratulated. "Dexterity is doing well, your nerves are regaining feeling. You've been exercising them?"

"Some physical therapy," Mikey admitted. "A few stretches. And I tried sketching yesterday. Just to try, nothing big. Just shapes and squiggles."

"I do hope you're resting yourself, though," Draxum reminded him.

"I've been doing nothing but resting!" Mikey complained, leaning back and huffing with frustration. "It's been a whole week and I'm sick and tired of just sitting around."

"I'm sure your brothers are tired as well," Draxum said with consideration. "I hear Leonardo cannot even leave his bed yet."

Mikey swallowed his pride and glanced away from his co-father.

"...I don't mean to be complaining so much," Mikey sighed. "I just... I'm tired of feeling useless."

"I fully understand," Draxum replied with a nod. "But you need to take it slowly or else all this time will have been for nothing. It's a process."

Mikey grumbled impatiently. Draxum glanced up at him with a warning, but let it slide for the most part.

"...I suppose your legs work properly."

"Yes?" Mikey answered, confused by the inquiry. "Why?"

"And you can read?"

"Yeah, they finally let me use my hands for reading books again," Mikey admits. "Though it's kinda hard to stay focused with books. Why?"

"I was considering inviting you to my home for some formal training in the mystic arts. If you are interested."

Mikey shot up, bouncing from excitement.

"Are you kidding me?! Yes! Yes!!"

"On one condition," Draxum interrupted, raising a hand to calm his overly giddy child down. "You must take time to rest your hands. I cannot train you if you cannot take care of yourself and your hands cannot properly heal. Do you understand?"

"Yes, yes, I do!" Mikey promised, nodding with exhilaration. "I'll do my best with this!"

Draxum gave him a small, soft smile as he nodded.

"Very well. Training will begin next week. We'll start with the easy spells and a few rune exercises. Nothing too extreme, just to bring you up to speed and build your experience."

"Oki-doki!" Mikey said with a smile and a thumbs up, before his thumb twitched and twinged. "Ooh, ouch ouch ouch!"

Draxum eyed his son with concern.

"Uh..... I'll work on that. I'll be fine by next week, I promise!"

"Don't come if your hands still hurt you," Draxum warned. "We don't want to aggravate your condition."

"I'll be fine!" Mikey chuckled nervously. "I really wanna do this. I promise, I'll be fine."

Drax gave a groan of reluctant relent.

"We'll see..."

TO BE CONTINUED...