#sisterhood of steel | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kasagia · 7 months ago

Text

Right hand III

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!exBeneGesserit! reader Summary: After Feyd learns the truth about your dark past, you do everything in your power to prove your loyalty to him. He has many ideas for this... but will your life be able to go back to normal after that? You will either die at his hands, be exiled, return to the Bene Gesseit, or live by his side. And you yourself don't even know which of these options is worse... Warning: 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; fight; brutality; smut; Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART II ~•♤♤♤•~ PART IV ~•♤♤♤•~

His dagger digs lightly into your neck, blood slowly trickling down it. You don't try to fight him, you don't push the blade away or try to rip it out of his hand. You know that if you did, you would have been killed by him long ago.

You had to play it smart… and fast—before he slit your throat, which was becoming a more likely scenario with every second.

"Feyd…" You choke out once more, trying to make him look you in the eyes and get him to listen to you. The blood is seeping out of you faster and faster as he presses the blade harder against your throat.

"Silience, witch! You little plague, bane of my existence, poisonous viper, how long have you been playing with me? How long have you been faking all this? Did you think you could outsmart me? That you can deceive me? Make fun of me? Humiliate me? I should fuck you raw, use you like a whore, and leave you in your ridiculous sisterhood to rot with those old hags!" He shouts, pressing his blade harder against your throat. The cool steel of the metal on your skin is becoming a more serious threat to your life. You shiver as you feel him taking more blood from you.

"Feyd, listen…" You try to speak again, placing your hand on his wrist. He pushes your hand away as if it posed a radioactive threat greater than anything floating in Giedi Prime's atmosphere and glares at you furiously.

"NO! You lied to me. You betrayed me. You know how I punish people for disloyalty. You're lucky that I won't throw you to my soldiers so they can play with you before I give you to my harpies. But don't worry, I will take very good care of you. You'll die like those cowardly rats you helped me kill a few hours ago…"

"You... you would... kill me... if I told you... at the beginning..." You gasp as he grabs your neck tightly and drags his blade down your body, creating a trail of blood leading to your collarbone.

"I will kill you now." He growls hoarsely, completely cutting off the air from your respiratory tract.

Your eyes widen as he lifts you off the ground so that only your toes touch the floor. Tears well up in your eyes as you desperately try to draw in air, but his hand is wrapped too tightly around your neck for the oxygen to reach your lungs.

When you realised that it was over and that he had decided on your death, the moment that Lady Jessica told him the whole truth about you, you relaxed. You let a blissful emptiness wash over you as you slowly waited for him to take your life away. You close your eyes, rest your head against the wall behind you, and let your body slowly go limp as the seconds pass without air.

You gasp, surprised, as the grip on your neck loosens so that you can take small, ragged breaths. You quickly take advantage of the opportunity and take a few shaky breaths. You open your eyes, staring into Feyd's icy blue and furious gaze in utter shock.

Was he going to play with you before he killed you? Torture, like many before you, until he finds in himself some mercy and takes your life? Because if you know one thing, it's that you won't beg him to let you go. About nothing. Never. You were too proud to do so.

"Fight." He growls, pressing you harder against the wall. He leans forward, bringing his face very close to yours. You shiver, feeling his breath on your cheek as he carefully observes your reaction to his intimidation. Like a snake waiting for the right moment to attack.

"What?" You ask stupidly, not understanding what he is doing. You've often watched him play with his victims, prolonging their suffering and giving them no hope of escaping his grip... so why does he want you to fight? Why does he want you to resist him? Was this another sick game of his?

"Fight! Scream! Struggle! Why are you not doing anything?! Why don't you beg for your miserable life, Bene Gesserit's spy?! Fight with me! Fight back! FIGHT BACK!!" He screams and throws you against the wall.

Completely unprepared for him to completely release you from his grip, you fall to the floor, too weak to keep your balance on your own. You place your hands on the black metal sheet beneath you and breathe quickly, trying to get as much air as possible before he wraps his hand around your throat again.

"I… I was always… loyal… to you…" You gasp, still trying to recover from what just happened. He walks slowly towards you. He presses the tip of his sword under your chin and forces you to lift your head and look him in the eyes.

“You have five minutes before I treat you like I treat your mentor. Use this time well. I can always get bored and kill you faster.” He takes a step back and slowly slides the blade across your skin. He steps away from you to pour himself a drink, but he keeps watching you out of the corner of his eye. You take one brief glance at Lady Jessica's body before you can compose yourself enough to formulate any logical response.

"I... I have no idea what she told you. Where she lied and where it was convenient for her to tell the truth... but whatever she told you I did... she surely doesn't know the one, most important thing. She doesn't know the reason for my actions."

"Oh, but I do. You wanted to run away from them so you wouldn't have to breed with such a monster as me. You thought that as my right hand, you would be safe, that I wouldn't notice you in the shadows, that I wouldn't want you, and that I wouldn't touch you. But I did. And by doing so, I destroyed your plans. Tell me, how many times have you escaped from Giedi Prime in your fantasies? How many times have you wanted to leave for good?"

With each question he asks, he takes a step towards you, which makes him stand in front of you again. But you didn't get up from the floor. You didn't feel like it. Besides, you doubted he would let you stand up and be on an equal level with him. He needed to feel in control, to feel that he is still dominating over you—that he didn't lose control over you despite your... betrayal. Although you didn't think it was any kind of betrayal at all. A slight omission of a few facts. Nothing more.

"I... you can't blame me for that. Anyone with survival instincts would not willingly live on Giedi Prime. But I stayed." You decide to tell him some of the truth this time. For too long, you managed to play your cards well. You had to bend a little to his will without losing your claw and not behaving like an obedient concubine, wanting to fulfil all his orders and wishes, because that would make him more suspicious, and he would definitely kill you for trying to deceive him and lie to him again.

"You stayed out of fear." He questions your words, keeping his watchful, piercing gaze on you as he tries to find in you any trace of lying.

You almost shiver under the furious gaze of his icy blue eyes. Fortunately, you manage to refrain from showing him any reaction. The metallic scent of Lady Jessica's blood motivated you to survive like nothing had before. You somehow manage to recall some of your lessons and training sessions with her as you think about how to respond to Feyd's words. Maybe her methods and rules didn't keep her alive, but unlike her, you knew Feyda-Rautha too damn well. You could get out of this. You just had to play it smart and sacrifice a few things…

"Out of loyalty to you. Sense of duty and honor. Something I thought we both shared." You say confidently, meeting his gaze bravely.

However, your attitude does not impress him at all. He lazily turns the dagger in his hands, playing with the sharp blade. He doesn't take his eyes off you, even for a moment. He just stands there, maintaining a completely calm and unruffled demeanor. It's hard to imagine now that just a moment ago, this man was overcome with the greatest anger of his entire life. You've seen him in many states, but you have never seen him that mad. Rabban may have been called a beast by others, but the real threat was his younger brother. Especially when his first anger was over and it was time for the cold calculation of revenge.

“Was that loyalty and sense of duty also present in you when you chose to ignore the fact that you were supposed to be mine? That you are destined to give me an heir so strong that the whole world will kneel before him?” This time, you can't help but shudder. He notices this and chuckles darkly, shaking his head. In a split second, the tip of his blade is once again pressed on the thin and delicate skin of your throat. You swallow, and when you meet his gaze, you realise that you have to tell the truth if you don't want to die on your knees in front of him.

"If your uncle told you to marry me and have your offspring with me, would you do it?" A frown appears on his forehead at the mere mention of the baron. His hand trembles slightly as a new wave of rage washes over him.

"What does he have to do with this?" He asks hoarsely, as he suspects you of working with his uncle. After all, you were smart enough to play both sides.

Feyd wouldn't be surprised if you reported everything he was doing to his uncle behind his back. That's why he preferred having you—a cunning, beautiful witch who was now kneeling before him—by his side. Because you were drop-dead perfect. He never expected you to make such a stupid mistake. To ever let him gain even the slightest doubt about your loyalty.

"Nothing. But the Bene Gesserit were to me what your uncle is to you. And after running away from them, the last thing I wanted to do was follow the last sick order they gave me." The years you spent with him gave you enough information about the family relationship at House Harkonnen.

They are like predators waiting for the right moment to attack, always prepared to hurt the other one when he shows even a tiny glimmer of weakness. You also know Feyd's past... or rather, the history of scars on his back. Unfortunately, these were not the only marks the baron left on him.

You hold your breath as he grabs your hair and pulls you up. You get up on your feet, and, being on an equal level with him, you no longer hesitate to look him in the eye. He releases your hair with the other, only to move it to your cheek and neck. He rubs tiny droplets of blood across yours, shifting his attention to your skin. He caresses your jawline with his finger and suddenly tilts your head back, giving himself a better view of your reddened throat, which has begun to form bruises in the shape of his fingers from how he choked you just moments ago. You swallow, watching him closely.

"And yet you served me for many years. You stayed with me after they wanted to link your future with mine. Why?"

“I was hoping the last place they would look for me would be Giedi Prime by your side. And that… after all, you won't be interested in me.”

"But I was. This must have spoiled your plans, right?"

"A little." You confess, hoping to gain something from your honesty.

After your words, there is a long silence in the room. He removes his hand from you, staring intently at you as he considers your words. You wait in suspense and anticipation for his next decision.

One quick move was enough to take your life.

And from the look in his eyes, you know it must have been tempting for him to add your blood to Lady Jessica's, which was already staining the floor of the ship.

"On your knees." His command is so sudden that it takes you a moment for your brain to process what he said.

All you can do is stare at him blankly, your heart beating with excitement and terror at the thought of his words. He didn't want to… he couldn't now… You look down at his pants and swallow, seeing the slight bulge. You hold your breath as he takes a step towards you and presses his hard length against your thigh, which undoubtedly confirms your suspicions. He lifts your chin with two fingers, forcing you to look into his eyes as you blush and realise what he is asking you to do.

"I love your doe eyes, my pet, but there's a time and a place for everything. On your knees or your heart will become another decoration of my chambers." He says it huskily, caressing your chin before letting go. He stares at you expectantly, waiting for your next move.

You swallow again, feeling a huge lump in your throat. Your mind is racing, but you know, as he does, that you have no escape. Your position is hopeless; you can either give him a blowjob or die, and you don't want to do any of it. Or touch him in any way after he disembowelled Lady Jessica in front of you. But the prospect of being his next victim reluctantly brings you to your knees before him.

"Good girl." He hums, tilting your chin slightly so you're looking at him and not the floor between you. He takes a step towards you and attaches the dagger to his arm. "Show me that your beautiful, deceptive, tempting lips, throat, and larynx can do more than feed me with sweet lies, and maybe I won't cut them out of you."

You hold your breath, your eyes trailing down to his pants. You hear him chuckle darkly before he takes your hands in his and places them on the fastenings of his pants, guiding your hands as you gradually free his length from his armour.

You swallow again at the sight of his full, hard length and curse him, as the rumours about him do not lie at all. He was enormous. Long and not too thick, but not thin either. You don't know if you'd rather he tried to cut your throat with a knife than pierce it with what stood proud between you.

"Rumours say you know how to do it. I don't remember how many soldiers I killed for the privilege of having your body before me. But each of them shared one opinion. Your fire burns as bright in battle as it does in the bedroom. Show me, my little witch, how much you care about continuing to be my right hand and having all the privileges you had." He encourages you mockingly when you stare at his slightly pre-cum-dripping cock for too long for his liking. But damn, his cum was black. You were sure as hell that the bastard was going to paint you with it.

You give him an angry, cold glare as you wrap your hand around his length. He lets out a soft moan, grabbing your jaw to make sure you keep your eyes on his. You swallow, stroking his length with slow movements of your hand as he gets even harder. Part of you is glad that he wants you to look at him. You doubt you could keep your composure if you had to look at what you had to fit in your mouth… and hopefully only in your mouth.

He growls when you drag out the inevitable too long, using only your hands on him. You can see that he likes what you're doing, but the impatience radiating from him makes you realise that it won't end with just a few caresses of your hands around his length.

Reluctantly, you lean down and wrap your lips around his tip, sucking him gently—like candy. You taste his pre-cum on your tongue, surprisingly taking in its… not-so-horrible taste. It's bittersweet on your tongue and thick. You shudder at the thought of what he would feel like inside you.

He groans, burring his hands in your hair as he gently pushes you on him to make you take more of his cock into your mouth. You choke as his length suddenly hits the back of your throat. Surprisingly, he stops pushing you and just keeps his hands in your hair, letting you adjust to his full length.

"I've always liked your hair..." He starts tugging on them to correct your rhythm. "A natural leash for my beautiful, dangerous pet..."

You growl around him in anger at his words. He groans throatily, feeling his cock twitch in your mouth at the extra stimulation he got from you. You feel tears slowly begin to well up in your eyes as he allows himself to move his hips more and more, lazily thrusting into your throat. Your saliva mixes with his pre-cum, staining the corners of your mouth.

It amazes you how gentle he is with you. How he doesn't push you too far so as not to cause you the pain you know he loves to enjoy. More than once, you had to call the medic to his concubines. Even his harpies occasionally got injured when he used them for his pleasure after a particularly exciting fight. You knew how… he could get lost in his pleasure. Yet he was extremely careful with you.

He starts thrusting into your throat faster and faster, guiding your head by your hair in time with his thrusts. You let your tears fall as he picked up a pace you couldn't keep up with. You close your eyes and feel a tear roll down your cheek. You open them, meeting his gaze, when you feel his thumb brush away your falling tear. He licked it off his finger, purring at its salty flavour.

You wrap your hands around his balls, massaging them in a circular motion, trying to make him come as quickly as possible. He laughs throatily, pounding stupidly into your mouth. Your jaw starts to hurt. You prop yourself up on his thigh with one hand, unable to stay on your knees for long on your own.

Seeing that you're having difficulty, he slows down a little, lazily digging into your throat. He luxuriated in the warmth of your mouth, and your tongue caressed his length. His gaze never falters, as he maintains eye contact with you the entire time. He strokes your cheek with his hand, then moves to your throat as he gently uses his fingertips to feel the bulge in your throat caused by his cock.

"I'll take you. Fast and hard. You'll cry as beautifully as you do now and writhe beneath me desperately, trying to escape like always, but you'll be so impaled on my cock and wrapped in the tight embrace of my arms that you won't move a fucking millimetre without my permission. I will fuck into you our Kwisatz Haderach, so no one will ever doubt that it should have been otherwise, that you don't belong with me. And the best of all is that you will not know the damn day or hour when it will happen. You will learn how to be my whore and baroness, just like you learned how to be my right hand. You'll do great, my little witch. You prove very well with your mouth and hands what a wonderful right hand you are. Much better than my own fucking hand. Much better than any of the fantasies I had. My little witch, always attending to my every need. Only fucking mine."

He moans, speeding up drastically, chasing his peak. You feel him getting closer to his orgasm as he becomes impossibly harder in your mouth and his balls tighten, ready to release his black cum. He keeps making you look at him until he growls loudly, coming into your mouth.

Earlier, you were gagging with just his length in your mouth. Now you really choke as his seed spills down your throat. He presses you against him, your nose brushing against his pubic bone, making you swallow all of his cum until it's completely inside you. Its taste is pungent, reminding you of a spicy, bitter spice.

He stays in your mouth for a while after he finishes pouring into you. He massages your scalp with his hands, clearly not wanting to release you. His cock twitches slightly, and you fear he's about to give you a second round.

He sighs, reluctantly pulling out of your mouth. He grabs your hands and guides them to his pants. You cleaned him and put him back in his pants without saying a word. You are not even looking into his eyes, knowing full well that a satisfied smile will spread across his lips the moment you do.

He grabs your arms and lifts you off your knees. You shiver, unable to stay on your two feet after being on your knees for so long, and you fall into his arms, leaning completely against him. He laughs huskily, pulling you closer to his chest. He uses his fingertip to collect the last of your saliva and his cum from the corners of your mouth and pushes his fingers into your mouth. You suck on them, meeting his eyes with your defiant, angry gaze.

He hums, smiling darkly as he watches with satisfaction as you lick his fingers. He leans forward, his nose brushing your cheek as he licks from your face and then from your neck the droplets of his black cum that leaked from your mouth as you tried to swallow everything he poured into you. You shiver as his tongue caresses the skin of your neck, tracing the small, sealed wound he inflicted on you with his dagger. He hums against your neck, disappointed at how quickly your blood clots.

Suddenly, he lets you completely go. You can barely keep your balance as he walks away from you.

"If that Atreides' bitch survived, so did her pathetic puppy. Send a message to our people in the desert. Paul Atredis is alive. We have to kill him before he and the rebels start a revolt and destroy our plans. Clean up here too. Tomorrow we have half a tribe of these rats to interrogate."

You nod dumbly, trying to understand what the hell just happened. Just a few hours ago, you were afraid for your life, and now that you... have pleased him, he acts like nothing has happened. You come to the conclusion that it bothered you more than when he pressed his blade against your throat.

"Ah, and Y/N." He says, stopping at the door and turning to look at you one last time before leaving the room. You can tell by the mischievous smile on his lips that he has nothing good planned for you. "I want to see you in my chambers tonight."

He doesn't wait for your reaction or response. He just walks out with a springy, energetic step, closing the door behind him with a bang.

You shiver as you find yourself alone in the room with Lady Jessica's corpse. You look around, and, in a desperate attempt to find some positives, you decide that at least your blood isn't staining the floor of the ship... or at least not yet.

His chambers in the main base on Arrakis are not as... ornately terrifying as those he had in Giedi Prime. You wouldn't guess that someone important lived there. It was an ordinary room with a bed, a chest of drawers, and a bathroom. No amenities, just a commander's room; definitely too poor for a na-baron.

You shiver as you feel his hand on your hip. He pulls you to his chest, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his nose in your hair. He sighs, inhaling your scent. The warm air on your neck is tickling you gently. You think about how it's been too easy for him to sneak up on you lately. You've gone out of shape.

"Are you planning how to escape, little witch?" He whispers hoarsely, playing with the fabric of your nightgown.

"I didn't. And believe me, I had better opportunities in the past. So why would I escape now?" You answer his question with your own one, irritated by his suspicions.

"Because unlike me, you are very reluctant to welcome our Kwisatz Haderach into this world." You roll your eyes at his words and turn your head to give him an annoyed look. He shrugs with a smirk. He presses a kiss on the bare skin of your shoulder before resting his chin on it. "You're obviously trying to distance yourself from me, too." He adds, seeing the irritated frown on your forehead.

“Weren't you the one who thought the Bene Gesserit prophecies were just bullshit from stoned old women?” You ask, raising your eyebrows in challenge.

"I did… but this particular one seems very convincing..." He purrs into your neck. He moves one hand from your hip so his finger can trace the red line of the wound he gave you with the dagger. He tilted your head back, forcing you to rest your head on his shoulder as he placed a trail of kisses on the small scar.

"Where are your harpies?" You ask when he starts showing too much interest in your neck, peppering it with kisses.

"Should I call them? Would you like them to join us?" You wrinkle your nose, at which he laughs, amused, tightening his hold on you.

"Of course not. You know that I have... no sympathy for them." You grumble, trying to break free from his grip, which, of course, he won't let you.

"The feeling is mutual. You know, they think you're stealing me from them. And that I will quickly get bored with you, like with other... oriental pets I had, and I will come back to them."

"What are you waiting for, then?" You ask, raising an eyebrow at him. He chuckles darkly, shaking his head. His hand plays with the strap of your black sleep gown, gently stroking your bare skin. He leans down, nuzzling your temple, and whispers in your ear:

“The problem is, my dear little witch, that you have taken over every ounce of my thoughts. My dreams, my nights, my days… it seems only right that I get back the time I wasted dreaming about you, right?”

You shiver, both from his words and from the way his hand slides over your body like a snake. He strokes your breasts, taking a moment to focus on them before his hand rests on your hips again. He presses you against him, clinging to you like a second skin.

"Let's go to bed. It was a very long day. For both of us..." He says, directing you towards his bed. You resist him slightly by digging your heels into the floor, but he quickly counters this by lifting you up gently, leaving your feet dangling in the air.

"Wouldn't you rather sleep alone? It's pretty warm here." You try to get out of it one last time, feeling the soft silk of his black sheets beneath you as he gently places you on his bed. He laughs mockingly, amused by your poor attempt at escape.

"Not at night. You know that well. I'd rather keep an eye on you, little witch. We don't know what monsters may be lurking in the darkness of Arrakis after we killed the Reverend Mother of those rats." He purrs, laying down next to you. You sigh as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer to him, knowing full well that your safety is the last thing he's worried about right now.

"If Paul Atreides survived, it is very likely that he could be Muad'Dib. He will come here. To avenge his mother and unborn sister." You warned him. You're trying to make this situation more… normal. Lying in his bed and in his arms wasn't the least bit normal for you, but making plans with him was. You needed to keep your mind occupied until you could fall asleep… if he let you fall asleep.

"You didn't stop me from killing her. You didn't say a word. Why? Were you afraid you'd be next?"

You shake your head. You're not going to tell him the whole truth about what you felt back then, but you know you can't lie to him. You have to tell him at least half the truth if you want to regain some of his trust... at least until you escape.

"Lady Jessica believed that Paul was the real Kwisatz Haderach, since she gave Duke Leto a son instead of a daughter. The Bene Gesserit resented her for this. She was supposed to give him a daughter. A daughter who was to marry you and give you a real Kwisatz Haderach. By disobeying their orders, she fell into their disfavour... until she gave them the idea that they might as well... fuse me with you to secure your bloodline. But the Bene Gesserit came up with the idea that I was going to be the mother of the Kwisatz Haderach. If I hadn't gone with you that night... I might as well have died at her hands. I… I guess I was glad that I survived her."

Not looking at his face helps you partially open up to him. You didn't like remembering your past. This was the one thing you had in common. You try your best to reveal as little to him as you have to, unconsciously tracing patterns in his hand as he keeps hugging you from behind. If you turned around, you would have seen his small smile at your gesture quickly disappear as he sensed the growing tension within you at the thought of Lady Jessica.

"If I had known, I would have made it more painful for her." He states, taking your hand in his and squeezing it. You look down at your joined hands and frown as he slowly strokes the skin of your hand with his thumb.

"Why?" You ask in a whisper, not moving an inch when he buries his nose in your hair.

"Because no one hurts what's mine."You snort, knowing full well the true meaning of his words. If you were just a naive young girl, you would believe in the good intentions behind these words. However, you know Feyd Rautha too well to naively believe that he won't break his favourite toys. He grabs your chin in a tight grip and turns you to face him. You swallow thickly as his intense gaze meets yours. You've never had the chance to look so closely at his icy blue eyes... "I want you by my side all the time. I need to make sure you're not planning anything behind my back, little witch."

"Haven't I proven my loyalty enough?" You ask, placing your hands on his bare chest and pushing yourself away from him gently. He chuckles darkly, letting go of your chin in a split second to grab your wrists in a tight grip. He lifts your hands, pushing them away from him and twisting them so you can't move them.

"I believe you are capable of doing much more." He murmurs against your throat, pressing kisses there and lazily sucking at your skin, which was already irritated by his dagger.

You squirm in his arms, trying to somehow protect your neck from his wandering lips. Your attempts fail, as you only give him more fun by grinding against him in a desperate attempt to escape.

Eventually, he gets bored and decides to let you go. He lets you turn your back on him again, but you don't get far. His arms wrap around you, holding you in a cage as he takes on the role of the big spoon.

"I will bring you the head of Atreides on a golden plate. There is only one Kwisatz Haderach—our future son. I won't let some dog from Caladan tell people otherwise." He whispers in your ear. You shiver, half-wishing you were stupid enough to believe in his devotion. The fact that someone can do anything you want for you. But it wasn't love. It was just an obsession. You had to remember that.

"Maybe he really is the one… or maybe it's all just nonsense made up by those old hags? Maybe there will be no Kwisatz Haderach at all? What's then?" He doesn't answer your questions. However, you manage to get some reaction out of him.

He pulls away from you, the bed creaking beneath him as you hear him turn over to his other side. The sudden chill of not having his body close to yours makes you shiver.

You find yourself regretting for a moment that whatever you said made him distance himself from you. You shake your head and sigh, sinking deeper into the pillows. You try to find the most comfortable position possible when settling down to sleep. But for some reason, you don't feel tired at all. Your eyes are wide open as you listen to his soft breathing, the only other sound in the empty room.

"How did you find out about… uncle?" His sudden question makes you turn towards him. He remains turned away from you, ignoring any movement from you. You think for a moment, staring at the scars scattered across his pale, muscular back, before answering him.

"I have eyes and ears. And enough brain cells to… deduce a few things." You whisper, tracing a particularly nasty-looking scar on his back with the pad of your thumb. "I also... I went through something similar. I've told you that before. Bene Gesserit was to me what your uncle is to you." He turns slowly to face you at your words. His eyes examine you so thoroughly that you feel another shiver run through your body.

This time, when he reaches out to cup your cheek, you don't fight him. You let him, trying to decipher the unreadable look in his eyes as he continues to consider your words.

"Tell me... how could I resist when you're like this? How could I ignore you and leave you in your shadows when everything you do fascinates me to a madness that only you can heal?" He asks, tracing the line of your lips with the pad of his thumb.

"You wanted to kill me today." You remind him in an accusatory tone. You bite the tip of his finger, which only brings a smirk to his face as he moves his hand away from your face. He places it on your hip, squeezing it in a silient warning.

"I wanted to scare you. You lied to me, so you needed some punishment. Besides, you know perfectly well that if I really wanted to kill you, you would already be dead."

"Not telling the whole truth is not a lie. Besides… your intentions don't make this situation any different to me." You huff, rolling your eyes. He laughs huskily, caressing your hip through the fabric of your nightgown as he moves closer to you on the bed. Your chest is pressed against his. Both of you are breathing steadily and slowly, staring intently into each other's eyes.

"Are you afraid of the little old me, my little witch?" He asks teasingly. You catch yourself watching the sparkle of amusement in his eyes shine surprisingly brightly under the light of the Arrakis moon. You can't make yourself turn your gaze off of him. And that's what terrifies you.

"Should I?" You ask in a whisper, trembling, not giving him an ounce of trust. Seeing your extremely distrustful and hostile attitude, he stops smiling. He looks at you more seriously, as he is deep into his thinking.

He doesn't respond to you. He places a kiss on your forehead and turns your back to him. He holds you tightly, buries his nose in your hair, and slowly falls asleep, wrapping himself in your warmth and scent. On your back, you feel his heart beating calmly in his strong, well-built chest. You allow yourself to sigh shakily, being finally 'alone' for the first time since this fateful day began.

And you realise that you're not afraid of him at all. The only person you are afraid of is yourself. That you would give in to your strange attraction to him one day and seal your fate. You didn't want to die. But you'd rather find yourself buried under the sands of Arrakis than let those Bene Gesserit witches control your life ever again.

"If you tear this, you'll be walking around with my hand around your throat." He warns you, seeing you struggling with the black leather choker around your neck he gave you. It looked like a fucking collar. And it was a bit too tight for you to feel comfortable in it.

"You give me so many options…" You snort sarcastically, leaving the damn choker around your neck. "I look like a fucking whore." You say and turn towards him to look at him carefully.

He wore his more formal black armour with a cape that was as dark as the rest of his outfit. He smiles sarcastically and walks over to you. He smoothes the fabric of your dress on your waist and places his hands on your hips.

"Whore? Not at all. More like my pet." He hums, trying to take in your form in a form-fitting black dress. The silver chains on your hips and chest connect into a spider's web that flows down with the fabric of the skirt of the dress, which surprisingly doesn't cling as tightly to your body as the bodice of the dress does.

It's... definitely a bolder outfit than you're used to wearing. And this time, your hair was loose. The maids put silver accessories and small diamond jewels into your hair. You were a nicely wrapped gift, especially prepared for the Na-Baron's birthday.

"What's the difference?" You ask, raising an eyebrow defiantly.

"Calm down, little witch. Rumours about your past spread quickly. We can't let people see me as a weak man who fell under the spell of a Bene Gesserit, can we?" He teases you. He leans towards you and nuzzles your cheek before his lips start to trace a path along your jaw to your neck. You sigh slightly and place your hands on his chest, trying to keep him at a distance.

"Please. Don't pretend you're not doing it for your own fucking satisfaction." You snap at him, still trying to push him away. He puts the dagger on your neck rather quickly and too suddenly, making you refrain from any form of protest for a moment as he decorates your neck with hickeys.

"I'm not even trying to deny it at all… you look stunning, by the way." He growls hoarsely. His blade moves from your neck to the top of your corset, pressing the tip against the valley between your breasts. You sigh, feeling the coolness of the blade against your chest.

"They are waiting for you." You whisper as he nuzzles his nose against yours.

"We have a moment... besides, it's my birthday. Don't you want to celebrate my adulthood?" His low tone of voice sends shivers down your spine. Even after he tosses his blade aside, you make no move to try to walk away from him.

"You're still acting like the horny teenager I met. I doubt you will ever grow up."

"Watch what you say… I can always show you how hornier I became." His warning is not just lip service. He shows it to you... very clearly as his hard length rubs against your thigh.

You grab his jaw tightly and take a step away from him. He laughs, grabbing your wrist and pulling you back into his arms in one quick movement. You gasp in shock, falling into his chest. You struggle in his embrace until he slaps your ass. You glare at him furiously, at which he only tightens his grip on you.

"I want you to paint my body before the fight." He mumbles, caressing your cheek as you try to pull your head back from him.

Leading members of the high houses gathered on Arrakis to celebrate his birthday and the fact that he had managed to restore the mining and export of spices to extraordinary levels.

Feyd was to put on a spectacle, killing the most dangerous Fremen who managed to be kept alive during interrogations. However, you and Feyd have bigger worries to take care of right now. Like the baron and the emperor. Or Paul Atreides... or rather, their Muad'dib, who has not been found by you yet. Something Feyd decided to ignore for now in favor of groping you and trying to get into your pants.

Over the last few weeks, he has clung to you like a limpet. It made it very difficult for you to do any work or spy, as he was literally following you around. You felt like his favourite dog on a leash, taken for walks around the building before locking you in his chambers for the night, keeping you close to him. Even his harpies couldn't take his attention away from you. Something you really hoped would happen soon.

"It's always been… your harpies' privilege." You say as he tangles his hand in your hair.

"And now I want you to do it." He says it calmly, caressing your cheek as you try to pull your head back from him. "Do you mind?" You huff at his condescending question.

"Don't ask me questions like that; otherwise, I'll start thinking that I really have a choice here." He laughs, showing you a set of his freshly painted black teeth and shakes his head at you.

"We both know you're too smart for that, my shrewd little witch." He says this and leans in, gently brushing your lips with his. He keeps a tight grip on your hair as his kiss becomes more intense and possessive. He tightens his grip on your waist, tugging at the fabric of your dress, causing the silver chains on it to clang against each other with every move of his hand.

His hand reaches for the strings of your corset at the back, but before he can untie even one of them, there's a knock on the door.

"My Lord Na-Baron, the Baron, and your brother have just landed on Arrakis. The emperor should also be arriving soon."

You feel him tense slightly as he pulls away from you. His face hardens as he puts on his emotionless mask, staring out the window, where he could probably see the ship landing.

"Come on, little witch. I don't need to remind you to be on your best behaviour, right?" You roll your eyes at him, placing your hand in the crook of his elbow.

"I think I can play your concubine for a day. Consider this my birthday gift to you, my Na-Baron." You say it sarcastically and sweetly, walking with him out of his room and towards the great hall where he would greet everyone gathered. If you were lucky enough, you might be able to escape from him for a moment or two...

"In my chambers as well?" He asks teasingly, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him trying not to smile, but the corner of his lip twitches, giving him away (at least to you).

"Anywhere but there." You reply quickly, making him smile this time. At least for a second. After all, he has a reputation to uphold.

"That's okay. We don't need to do it there. There are so many other places…" He whispers hoarsely in your ear before you enter the room where the first party is to be held. You can't stop a cold shiver from running down your spine.

Doors are opening for you. You wait for him to let go of your waist and move in front of you like he usually does at these types of parties with the concubines he brought for company, but he doesn't do that at all. Instead, he tightens his grip on your waist and holds you by his side as he navigates through the sea of people. You can't help but blush slightly.

If you had any doubts over the last few weeks that he was no longer interested in you, they were gone with his small gesture. He will indeed ruin you. As soon as he finds the opportunity suitable. You were afraid that the evening of his birthday might be considered in his eyes as a perfect time to do this.

But somehow you manage to get out of his sight. You position yourself against the wall, having a perfect view of the most important people in the room. The Baron and Feyd were talking about something with the Emperor and his daughter. You look at them curiously, especially since the Harkonnens have their backs turned to you. And looking at Princess Irulan in a silver dress that was constructed to resemble armour, you see in her your chance for freedom. If Feyd married her, he would probably get over his strange obsession with you.

"Lady Y/N." Feyd's older brother's mocking greeting reaches your ears. You turn to him, taking your eyes off Feyd for a moment, and nod to the man standing next to you.

"Count Rabban."

"I heard you and my brother dealt with the rats of Arrakis. My congratulations." You are quite wary of his civilised attitude. The last time you saw him, Feyd made him kiss his shoes. And yours. So you definitely didn't stay in... a neutral relationship after that.

"Na-Baron is a great commander." You reply with a polite smile. Your eyes involuntarily wander to Feyd. There's a knot in your stomach when you see him talking to the princess. You frown, wondering what the hell is wrong with you.

"I have no doubt." He nods, also looking at Feyd. "He will destroy you. Like any toy he had before you. When you lose your usefulness, he will throw you to his harpies. He's more unpredictable than me or even my uncle. But you know that... so what are you still doing by his side?" He asks, turning his gaze on you.

"I am his right hand. I live to serve him." You answer automatically, shrugging your shoulders.

"If I had known that Bene Gesserit witches were so devoted, I might have appointed one to be my right hand."

"Believe me, count Rabban, the overwhelming majority would not serve him or anyone else so loyally as I do. They would probably prefer to poison themselves." He laughs at your words, taking two drinks from the passing servant. He hands you one, but you shake your head. "I don't drink if I don't have to. Old habits from my home planet. My mother would slap my sisters and me on the hands until she could see our bones as a punishment for stealing a drink or two." You're half lying when you remember how the Reverend Mothers made sure you were completely… untainted by any substances that could make you less healthy. All for breeding. Like farm animals.

"And they say the Harkonnens are monsters. At least you can get drunk with us… well, before we torture you to death or accidentally kill you."

"I've gotten used to it. Fortunately, I have fast reflexes." You reply with a smirk, knowing full well what he's trying to do. He wanted to ingratiate himself with you while you were still important in the Harkonnen court. His brother currently despised him, and his uncle probably did too. He saw an opportunity to increase his political influence when he spotted you alone.

Suddenly, you feel someone's intense gaze on you. You turned your face to notice that Feyd's eyes were on you and not on the princess, with whom he was still talking. Judging by the way your skin was burning from the look Feyd was giving you, you could tell he didn't like his brother being close to you at all.

And Feyd was incredibly pissed off and furious. In his eyes, Rabban wasn't worthy enough of your time, attention, or even being close to you to have the pleasure to smell the scent of your perfumes. But not only did his brother have the courage to talk to you; he even made you smile. Feyd was already planning in his mind how to tear his head off.

Na-Baron would have done just that if an arrow had not suddenly passed between him and Princess Irulan.

Panic filled the room when suddenly, a hail of arrows hit random people. You grabbed your blade and were about to move towards the first archer you noticed, but suddenly a cold steel was pressed against your neck. The Fremen woman holds you tight. You can only stand there calmly and watch as they overpower the more important representatives of the great families, leading the less important people out of the room. Feyd's blue irises are focused on you all the time, which surprisingly makes you feel a little better.

"Silience!" You freeze when you see Paul Atreides emerge from the crowd of Fremen.

Your informants haven't told you much about him. He had done well since he was forced to live on Arrakis among the Fremen. He became stronger, smarter, and more ruthless. He had no weaknesses… except one. You look around the room, your eyes locking on the woman who stood a few metres away from you. His lover.

If living among powerful men taught you anything, it was that they only had a few weaknesses. Fear for their lives, property, title, and, among those younger and less experienced in life, their loved ones. But Paul Atreides changed on Arrakis. He wasn't the little boy you knew during your training with his mother. You could only hope that he loved his woman enough to consider rescuing her. Maybe you will buy enough time before your trops, waiting on ships above Arrakis, come to rescue you.

"Let me go. Give me your blade. Keep your mouth shut and close your eyes for the next 30 minutes." You use your voice on the woman who holds you.

While she does what you told her, you try to get to Atreides' lover unnoticed. You ignore his speech; your heart is racing in your chest, and all you can hear is the sound of your blood flowing in your blood vessels.

When you reach the Fremen woman, you quickly disarm her and press your dagger to her neck. Atreides stops his speech. Before anyone can react, you take a deep breath and say loudly:

"Everyone ten steps back. Stay still, or slit your throat with the nearest weapon." Everyone in the room is listening to you. You have to take a few steps back with the woman you have in your iron grip. You tremble as you feel the eyes of everyone in the room on you, especially Feyd's. However, your gaze is fixed only on Paul Atreides.

"This is impossible… what are you?" He asks in shock, not moving after you forced him and everyone else in the room to back away from you.

"It doesn't matter, Atreides. Take your men and get out of here. I advise you well." You growl furiously at him. You feel the blood start to pulsate in your veins. The old wound on your side is slowly starting to open up under the pressure your body is going through. You're glad you're wearing a black dress. At least not all of them will see the blood stain on your dress when it will be leaking out of you more and more by the second.

"You cannot keep them under your will forever. You'll soon get tired, faint, or bleed to death." He reasons, fully aware that your crowd control is time-limited.

"My men will be landing here soon. They'll take everyone who counts and fly away with us, raining nuclear bombs on your precious little desert. The spice from these areas may have been contaminated for several centuries, but we still have the opposite pole of Arrakis to exploit and extract it. So better choose wisely."

He frowns at your words, looking at you carefully and analysing your facial expressions carefully. You stare at him hard and unfazed, even though you feel the fabric of your dress sticking to your open wound. You have a staring fight with each other until you press your dagger a little more into the woman's throat and take her blood. He looks briefly at his girl before he opens his mouth to speak.

"We've met before, right?"

"You have one minute to make a decision before I make your woman bleed to death in front of you." You say hoarsely, feeling your muscles tremble slightly. But you hold on with all your might, maintaining your calm, dangerous, hostile attitude.

You all wait in suspense to see what he will do. He might as well attack and kill you, risking his men overpowering any reinforcements that come to your rescue. But you hope he's considerate enough to back off. If not because of the people who came after him, then because of his girlfriend or concubine, whose life now depends solely on you.

You almost sigh in fucking relief when he takes a step back. You let him get out of your control, looking at him carefully all the time. You swallowed and let go of his woman.

"Follow your Muad'Dib." You command the people of the desert. They stare at you for a moment before their eyes rest anxiously on their leader. He nods at them as he slowly leaves the room.

As quickly as they arrived, they left. You stand at attention for a long time—a minute, an hour, or hours—until you hear the ship approaching and the movement of the sands of Arrakis under the influence of sandworms.

They left. You realise this with relief. However, it is a very short-lived relief. It ends when your eyes meet the eyes of the reverend mothers, who are clearly communicating with each other. You fucked up. You revealed that you were a Bene Gesserit, or at least that you knew some of their tricks. Unconsciously, you completely let go of control over the gathered crowd.

"Why didn't you wait for your people so we could kill them? Kill him?" The emperor's voice reaches you vaguely. You raise your head and meet the gaze of an old man standing a few steps away from you.

"I bluffed, my emperor." You reply shakily, feeling blood start to flow from your nose as well.

"What?" He asks in shock, unable to believe that all your talk was a pure bluff. You don't have the strength to explain anything. You can stare blankly at the floor, feeling your strength slowly begin to drain away after you use the voice on the people gathered in the room.

"I bluffed." You repeat, feeling your heart beat rapidly against your chest. Your vision becomes completely blurry; all you can hear is the buzzing in your ears, the pounding of your heart, and the slow dripping of your blood onto the floor.

"But… you…" Whatever he was about to say, he's interrupted by you falling to your knees. You don't register at all what's happening around you. The only thing you are sure of is that there are suddenly a lot of people around you.

You're clinging to what little consciousness you have when you suddenly feel something pull you against the hard wall of muscle. You lean against the unexpected support, slowly drifting into blissful unconsciousness as you no longer feel the pain from the open wound on your side. The hoarse call of your name makes you a little more aware, enough to distinguish Feyd's voice from the indistinct gibberish around you.

"Get a medic here!"

He whispers something else to you as he brushes your hair out of your face, but you don't hear anything anymore. You let yourself go into the blissful darkness, happy that you can rest, at least for a moment. And you feel surprisingly comfortable, with the warmth of his arms and his scent being the last things you feel before passing out.

You're surprised that when you wake up in the hospital wing, there's no one at your bed, looking at you like a guard dog. Once you get used to the feeling of being fully aware, you rub your eyes. The moonlight shines through the window, illuminating a dark and empty room you found yourself in.

You ignore the strange twinge in your chest when you don't see your Na-Baron anywhere near you and slowly sit up on the bed. You check the status of your wound and are pleased to see that you are in a more stable condition than you were a few hours ago.

You place your feet on the floor and slowly stand up, testing your muscles. You're relieved to see that it's not as bad as it was in the past. You walk over to the chair where a black silk robe is hanging and put it on. You take a moment to search the room, smiling hugely when you find your daggers on the nightstand next to your bed. You attach one to your thigh and tuck the other inside the sleeve of your robe. Maintaining great silence, you tiptoe out of the room.

You sigh in relief as you wander the empty corridors again, hiding in their shadows. You feel like a newborn, like a fish that has returned to the current of a familiar river. You weren't aware of how therapeutic it was for you to wander the halls alone at night until Feyd trapped you in his arms and his bed practically every night. You missed it. Very much so.

However, today's attempted attack by Atreides made you realise that you were too focused on getting away from Harkonnen and trying to keep him at a distance. You had to take action. Otherwise, Paul Atreides will cut off your head, just like his mother once wanted to do.

You shudder as you remember the day you escaped from the Bene Gesserit sisters' sanctum.

You ran barefoot through familiar corridors in the cold, dark night. You didn't need a torch or other light. You had lived within these walls long enough to know which corridors ended in dead ends and where to turn to reach each gate. But Lady Jessica knew them as well as you. You had to be a lot smarter if you were going to escape the woman who wanted you dead.

Yesterday there was a great meeting of Reverend Mothers after Lady Jessica failed to give birth to Leto Atreides' daughter at the right time. The Reverend Mothers had to find... a new breeding mare for Feyd Rauthy, from whose blood the Kwisatz Haderach was to be created. They chose you. And now, because of this honour that had been a death sentence for you from the very beginning—a curse, an evil fate that seemed to have stuck with you since your birth—Lady Jessica had tried to kill you in your sleep and was now trying to complete her work.

You decide to go to the ramp, hoping that you might be able to capture some small ship—something flying around—that would get you away from those damn Bene Gesserit.

You knew you were too weak to fight Lady Jessica. She taught you a lot, but not how to defeat someone stronger, like her. If you wanted to live, you needed to find a way to escape.

You speed up as you hear the click of her heels behind you. You run as fast as you can, reaching the door just as Lady Jessica appears at the end of the hall. You close the door behind you with a loud snap. You sigh, leaning against it for a moment. You freeze as you feel the blade against your throat.

"Step away." You order in panic before opening your eyes. A cold chill runs through you as you see Na-Baron Harkonnen's cold blue irises staring at you in shock as he obediently steps away from you.

You stand there for a few minutes, staring at each other without saying anything. Na-Baron examines you carefully: your dishevelled state, rapid breathing, red cheeks, and bare feet. You have no idea what he deduced, but it was enough for him to not immediately slit your throat for using the voice on him.

"You should go back to your sisters, little witch. Unless you want to join me, I wouldn't say no to the company of... such a pretty mouse." He speaks hoarsely. He doesn't wait for your answer, though. He simply turns and walks slowly towards the ship his men are packing. You swallow and wonder: Is death at the hands of Lady Jessica or at the hands of Harkonnen? Your pride chooses for you.

"I'm not a mouse, I'm a warrior." You reply, gathering all your inner courage. Na-Baron stops in his way.

His raspy laugh sends another shiver down your spine as he slowly turns back to face you. He approaches you slowly, each step perfectly calculated as he stands a few millimeters in front of you, invading your personal space. You raise your head proudly and meet his gaze with your own, determined one.

Which impresses him.

So much so that he reaches for the dagger strapped to his hip. You don't flinch when he runs the tip of the dagger across his tongue. You watch him closely, waiting for him to either slit your throat or accept the challenge. Feyd is surprised. And very curious—too curious—to simply walk away and continue on his path. That's why he takes your hand in his and hands you the dagger he was just testing.

"So show me what you can do, little witch. Except for using that honeyed voice of yours." He says it mockingly and takes two steps back, drawing another hidden blade from his armour.

You don't remember the entire fight clearly. The adrenaline was pumping through you so much that you only remember snippets of that dance with him with daggers in your hands. Surprisingly, neither of you disarmed the other. You stopped as you both placed your blades against the other's flesh—at points that would guarantee instant death if either of you decided to press the blade against the skin a little harder.

"You fight well, little witch." He praises you, moving away from you. "You're wasting yourself here." He says, looking at you acutely for a long time, considering something. But finally, he nods at you and turns again to join his men and board the ship. You quickly grab his hand before he gets too far away from you. You feel him tense at your touch, but he doesn't make any moves.

"Let me go with you. My blade will be an extension of yours, Na-Baron. I'll be your spy from the shadows, just... get me out of here." He widens his eyes slightly, unprepared for such a request. He turns towards you and glares at you with his icy irises.

It could very well be a trick from those witches, but Feyd would be lying if he didn't say that you caught his attention the first day he saw you training. And he really wanted to see what you were really capable of doing. Few had the guts to challenge him. And he found it somehow charming—how your eyes shone with determination every time you held the blade in your hands.

"Your sisters won't be happy when they find out that I took one of them to Giedi Prime." He says, feigning hesitation. His people knew him well. If he wanted something, he took it. A group of old witches wouldn't stop him, not now that he saw... great potential in you. Maybe not only as one of his soldiers.

"With all due respect, your house is not known for following anyone's rules except those you set. I… I can't stay here any longer."

His heart beat faster, seeing the desperation and helplessness in your eyes. Normally, he would laugh at someone who showed him weakness and kill him on the spot without much thought. But you... when you stared at him with those pleading eyes of yours, flushed from fighting him... it did something to him.

Feyd knew the feeling of helplessness. His uncle loved making him feel this way. And Feyd himself finds great enjoyment in making others feel that way. Humiliated. Weak. Scared. Somehow he didn't like the fact that staying in the sisterhood made you... feel like that and do such desperate actions as coming with him to Giedi Prime.

However, he had no intention of letting go of such a valuable bird that was voluntarily pushing itself into his cage.

"Well, you fight better than most of my men... I will make you my right hand. And as for your Bene Gesserit sisters..." You sigh softly as he reaches for your hair and cuts it in half. He cuts your shoulder and dips the cut hair in your blood. You see him put a few strands in his pocket, before he handed them to his servant, growling something at him in his native language. You raise an eyebrow at him. "I told him to convey my thanks to the Reverend Mother for... sending me a delightful toy. He might also mention that my darlings liked your meat." You nod, swallowing. He laughs mockingly, patting your shoulder. "You have many things to learn, little witch. You better prove to me that I wasn't wrong about you, or you will suffer exactly the fate that my servant will pass on to your sisters. I don't like weakness and disappointment."

"I have no intention of disappointing you, Na-Baron."

"Good. Come with me. I'm fed up with this planet. Besides, you need to change your clothes if you don't want my men to think you're a whore they can enjoy while on our journey." He nods and walks towards the ship. You follow him like his shadow, casting cold, sinister glances at the people staring at you.

"I am perfectly capable of defending myself, my lord." You reply confidently as you walk with him up the ramp to the Harkonnen ship. You see a small smile appear on his face at your words.

"I don't doubt that. However, I wouldn't want to lose more people than necessary. It's supposed to be your job to clean up after me, not the other way around, little witch." He responds, testing you and carefully watching your reaction. You don't flinch, perfectly prepared and familiar with... the brutality of the Harkonnens.

"Duly noted. There's only one thing I don't understand." He doesn't stop in his steps, but he gives you a quick glance and hums, allowing you to continue and ask a question. "I appreciate it very much, but… why didn't you kill me at the entrance?"

He chuckles hoarsely at your question and stops at a specific door. He turns to look at you, a spark of amusement shining in his eyes as he studies you like a predator would its prey before deciding to answer you.

"You didn't apologise or beg for your life. I found it... very refreshing." He says, opening the door. The metallic smell of blood fills your nostrils. You look into the room and see several prisoners chained to the wall of the ship with some strange cuts on their chests—probably some words in Harkonnen."Your first task, little witch. My darlings are very hungry. They will need the meat of my enemies. Come back here in an hour... I should finish by then. And change that rag you wear. I want to see you only in black." He orders, closing the door behind him with a bang.

You stand in the hallway for a moment, blinking and staring at the door, as you are suddenly thrown into a new reality that you have to get used to. You mutter a series of curses under your breath as you go searching for... any clothes or shoes. The cold metal of the ship's floor and the dried blood in some places made walking around on your bare feet quite uncomfortable.

Feyd-Rautha was indeed psychopathic... but it was better for you to be the devil's right hand than his mistress. And it was certainly better to inhale the toxins of Giedi Prime than to smell the flowers from underneath your grave.

You find yourself in front of a door that you don't want to go through. But you know you have to do it if you want to remain free and independent of anyone. You couldn't escape now. Not before Feyd-Rautha. You had to pay the price of your freedom with someone else's freedom. And you were ruthless enough to do it without blinking an eye. Maybe the years of living with Harkonnen really made you one of them...

You knock and enter the cave of Feyd's three harpies.

As you might expect, they don't welcome you very warmly. As soon as you close the door behind you, you hear their hisses. They stop feasting on some Fremen and glare at you, slowly approaching you.

"Relax, ladies. I'm here... to make a small agreement." You announce, taking a seat in the only chair that, surprisingly, isn't covered in anyone's blood. The women look at each other distrustfully and approach the table where you are sitting.

"Agreement?"

"With a little witch?"

"We don't make any agreements with our meals; we simply eat them."

You don't flinch at their words. Instead, you nod and draw your dagger when they get too close to you. Two of them move away automatically, but one—the oldest of them—continues to look at you. You give her a cold and dispassionate glare as you play with the blade in your fingers.

"But that's exactly what I'm talking about. About... a food. A great meal. A feast you will remember for a long time, ladies." You try your best to sound encouraging.

Their eyes light up, interested as you meet a fresh meal. You know perfectly well that they haven't eaten anything... desirable for a long time. They probably had to drag the body of this miserable man to their chamber themselves since you didn't have time to... make sure they were fed. And if there's one thing you can get on Giedi Prime with something other than power and sex, it's food.

"The little witch is planning something…"

"The little witch is up to something interesting…"

"The little witch wants to do something against our master…"

You look at them unfazed as they read that you have no clear intentions at all when it comes to working with them. But anyone who managed to survive on Giedi Prime and Arrakis was surely a man whose conscience had gone a long time ago.

And maybe your plan wasn't good for everyone... but it was definitely good for you. And Feyd. He'll agree with you... or at least you hope so. You're still not sure if his obsession with you was just a passing whim or if he really wanted to keep you with him. But you didn't want to end up like his concubines and pets.

"Possibly... but isn't that what you want? For your master to give you his attention again instead of taking care of me?" This seems to interest them even more than the promise of food.

"What do you want, little witch?" The oldest harpy asks you, looking at you carefully. You give her a mischievous, sinister smirk.

'"Have you ever thought of feasting on the Baron?" Your question hangs in the room. The harpies watch you carefully, smiling slowly and showing a row of black teeth.

Nothing united women like a common enemy.

To be continued... Taglist: (I REALLLLY hope that everyone who wanted to be here is here...😅 I;m sorry if I missed someone <3) @skymoonandstardust @prettybubblesintheair @thegabbyh @himesuedi @wo-ming-bai @beebeechaos @mamawiggers1980 @moonsoulk @avidreader73 @heartarianagran @dreamlandcreations @ancientbeing10 @lovereadingfanfic @jeansjoie @workof-a-rr-t @aixicl @ladyredstar1991 @evangelineimagine @hobobobo-fett56 @happyant3 @marsflys @aaaaaamond @kamcrazy123 @k1swass @yum-yahgurt @tyns13 @oh-you-mean-me @menari @tyns13 @vaf24 @dacreshoney @emrennoll-blog @tian-monique @slightlypossessed @celestialadrift @lauramooij05 @flaps200 @chixnugg22 @aaaaaamond @marvelfangirl04 @sw33tsnow @emeraldsgirl @imyourbubblegumpop @tempt-ress @k1swass @alana4610 @cloudroomblog @lotus-888 @lowlyloved @spoolsofgreenspoolsofblack @w3ird11 @kythefangirl25 @hobobobo-fett56 @nj452896

1K notes · View notes

libbyfandom · 6 months ago

Text

“How did the other children treat you, back in Kohama?” you murmur one night under the stars. Mizu’s face is half illuminated by the glow of the campfire Ringo tends. That one blue eye caught in the dancing glows flickers on a scale of blazing cerulean then back to dark waters under a nightsky.

Your hand presses to hers as you lay on your sides, watching as her calloused palm applies just enough pressure back for your joined hands to stay in the same place. It’s not any sort of competition, just a way to silently say ‘let us lean against each other, a solid weight for you and I to depend on’.

“The boys used to chase me down and beat me,” she replies lowly, apathy coating her tone. But you can see that pinch of pain around her eyes. You know her stomach is starting to heat with the raw emotions from that time. If pushed the wrong way, it could simmer, and then boil and overflow until enough splashes over into fury it’s emptied enough (temporarily).

“What did the girls do?” you ask softly, pressing your fingertips to hers. Can she feel them? How well? They must be less sensitive to sensation from the years of twisting along hard steel and cloth.

“Hid from me, mostly. Sometimes they screamed or cried.”

Your heart sinks low, beating out a bleeding, sympathetic pain for her.

She had no girlhood. No boy in the village she liked. No running along the dirt streets clinging to her friend’s hand as she was tugged along, giggling like mad. No little hands practicing braiding her hair. No sisterhood.

Your own childhood wasn’t picturesque, but…

Mizu’s fingertips rub back against yours, gently moving your joined palms together further up from your bodies laying together. Maybe she just wants to see if you’ll follow. Your hands glow orange from the firelight. You continue to mirror her, your hand glued to hers by choice. Her intense gaze on you betrays nothing of what she’s thinking.

“I wish…” you murmur. “I wish we could have been girls together.”

Mizu sighs through her nose, her eyes closing. They escape the illuminating light of the campfire, clouded in shadow.

Her hand pauses, fingers entwining with yours.

“I would have given you flowers,” she finally whispers.

“Could you braid them in my hair?”

“I don’t know how.”

“I can show you.”

“…Okay.”

#mizu #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #blueeyesamurai #blue eye samurai x reader

470 notes · View notes

fastlikealambo · 5 months ago

Text

holy crowns || paul atreides x black! fem reader

it was supposed to be your sister, your bene gesserit trained sister molded by the great houses, spy for the imperium. with no warning, paul chooses you instead and changes your life forever. some call him messiah, others an abomination, but you will call him husband. 18+only, minors dni note: hello! this takes place after the events of dune part two and Paul is about to become emperor. Irulan and her father are in exile and Chani is gone. i'm so sorry for the wait, I've been writing and rewriting this chapter, and even now I'm not sure if I have Paul's voice right. I hope you like it!

tw: paul has some quick naughty thoughts!

if you wish to see the story continue on beyond this chapter, please comment or reblog!

Chapter One.

Chapter Two.

CHAPTER THREE

THE STEEL IS THE WATER.

Paul Atreides did not dream, he augured.

What great and terrible things existed beneath his eyelids, a pocket world of hope, atrocities, and hopeful atrocities all at the command of the young emperor.

He was still young, wasn’t he?

There were times when he looked upon his own reflection and saw a thousand Fremen faces, no eyes nor mouth, just Paradise.

In the corner of his lips, he stole a glimpse of Chani.

At night, in the very edges of his vision, Paul stared at himself and his father stared back.

Yet now, the emperor’s visions turned to you in bed, still adjusting to the heat, sleeping fitfully, tossing and turning.

He could hold you still to rest if he wanted to, flatten the stress crease between your brows. The sweat between your breasts would not be wasted water for Paul, the tongue of the outer world would lap quick and perhaps venture further south-

No, it was not time.

Paul's sight moved from sleeping you to hundreds of thousands of visions in a single second, your past and futures laid out before your soon to be husband.

He saw your daughter learning to sandwalk, he heard the laughter of his grandson echoing from Caladan and through his mind’s eye.

So much love and destruction in between then and now.

“You give the sister absolute power over the Bene Gesserit, why?” Jessica asked, not bothering to knock before entering Paul’s rooms, ripping him back into the present.

“So the sisterhood falls in line under me, as you have done, as Alia will do. The sister is the key but I am the door, Mother.”

“Power over the Bene Gesserit is earned, the choice of Mother Superior takes planning yet you give it like a wedding present.”

“Why does it bother you? You created the prophecy, I led the Fremen through it, the holy war has ended. You have everything you want, and now my bride and her sister are the future of the empire you desired. Is it because you can no longer whisper in my ear?”

Paul loved Lady Jessica.

But long gone were the days of Jessica’s son and he caught the way she looked at him now.

Reverence, amusement, and just a whiff of fear she believed to be hidden from him but there was nothing anyone, Bene Gesserit or desert mouse, could hide from him, The Water of Life had seen to that.

Lady Jessica had birthed Shai Hulud in human form and yet still wondered why he swallowed the world.

“You turned away the most powerful family for an alliance and have given a nameless house two seats at our table. Your new bride has no training, no rank and you bestow upon your almost assassin the sacred sisterhood. I’m worried for you, Paul.” Lady Jessica said, kneeling in front of Paul, her son, her product.

Paul took his mother’s hand gently and looked her in the eye.

THERE IS NO OUR TABLE.

I AM THE TABLE.

I AM THE WOOD THAT CARVED IT.

I AM THE STEEL BENEATH YOUR FEET.

WHEN YOU CRY FOR LETO I AM YOUR WATER.

THERE IS ONLY ME.

“Do we understand each other?”

Jessica was gone before Paul could blink.

He turned his sight back to you, present you, but you were not there.

Lady Jessica had not brought worry to her son, but a distraction.

You had been taken.

Again, I’m sorry this took so long but I hope it is worth the wait! Thank you for reading!

Tag List

@drunkennunicornn

@fanfiction-addict22

@wonderpals02

@qveendiorsworld

@turn-thy-paige

@hoyoooo

@oscarissac2099

@inesven

@blahzaiblahsheep

@0strawberrysorbet0

@tian-monique

@iwishchalamet

@sabrielka-133

@mywellspringoflife

@gamorxa

@hidazinie

@slaybestieslay946

#paul atreides x reader #paul atreides x black!reader #paul atreides x you #paul atreides fanfic #paul atreides

120 notes · View notes

happilyhertale · 1 year ago

Text

Life anchor – Tom Bennett x female!reader, Part 2

Pairing: Tom Bennett x fem!reader

Warnings: Misogyny, fluff

Author’s note: Hey you (:

After the first meeting between you and Tom, you can't really forget him. Even though your husband has made it clear to you that he won't tolerate it, you can't wait to see Tom again.

English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 2.5k

Part 1, Part 3

Other stories of mine

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Three days passed, and then the moment had come. As you stood at the edge of the harbor, your eyes lifted to see the imposing shape of the ship. Although the idea of spending a day and a night aboard this ship does not fill you with enthusiasm, a glimmer of hope remains within you - the hope of seeing Tom again. Beside you stands William, an unwavering presence. Even as you stood in the foyer of your house, he made it clear that you should behave. A warning tone that made you shudder to the core.

Without many words, you waited with Wiliam for the other guests. You listen, lost in thought, as the water beats against the basin. How the seagulls cry out and fly over your heads. As one by one everyone gathers, your attention is drawn to the captain, who reappears and offers joyful greetings. Under his guidance, you once again enter the ship, but this time you are immediately led to your cabins, which were to house you during the night. The quarters seemed unimaginably small, but the consolation was in knowing that you would not be sharing the bed with William.

Before you even had a chance to arrange your belongings, William had already left the cabin. Along with the other men, he strolled about the ship in unison with the captain, his posture showing mock fascination. He dutifully converses with a few sailors and casts attentive glances at every detail of the ship, seeming completely immersed in maritime history.

As you leave the cabin, you look forward to spending the day without William. You seek out the other wives who have already gathered on the deck. A shared understanding of your collective situation is unspoken in the air, a silent sisterhood bound by unspoken compassion that makes every conversation feel like a comfort.

On the open deck, you have a perfect view of the harbor as the ship loosened its moorings to begin its short voyage. You lean over the railing a bit to watch the dancing waves as the ship begins to move. You focused on the rhythmic motion of the waves as they refracted through the body of the ship, while the hum of your companions' conversations provided a gentle symphonic background.

Yet amidst this tranquil scenery, your gaze instinctively lifted each time a sailor crossed your vicinity. An unspoken longing slumbered within you, a hope that those steel-blue eyes would cross with yours. But with each passing sailor, the tendrils of hope slowly gave way to a quiet disappointment, a subtle shadow that you try to push aside.

A fleeting illusion briefly played tricks on your senses as you thought you spotted Tom among the sailors. A spontaneous and carefree grin appeared on your features, only to be replaced by a startled smile when you realized that it was another blond sailor who happily returned your gaze. Startled by your own reaction, you hastily averted your eyes, and a delicate blush betrayed your slight shame. Inwardly, you admonished yourself to leave this silly fuss behind and regain your composure.

As the evening drew nearer and nearer, you gave up all your hope. During the waning hours, Tom remained an elusive specter that never crossed the path of your gaze, and you are certain that you imagined it all. In the quiet of your cabin, you prepare for the upcoming dinner. Another evening of bad jokes and drunken men. You take another deep breath in and out before leaving your cabin. With deliberate steps, you approach the dining room, already filled with the laughter and conversation. William is sitting there with the other gentlemen and they seemed to have had drinks already as well. At the neighboring tables sit sailors with the marks of their voyages etched on their faces, but there, too, the alcohol is flowing. You don't want to admit it to yourself, but your eyes wander hopefully around the room, but they don't meet those steel-blue eyes.

An oppressive feeling spreads through you as you silently take a seat next to William. An other gentleman - perhaps George - settles at your other side. Gradually, the other wives join you at the table. The drinks flow ceaselessly, making the conversation increasingly awkward. You just hope that William, in his drunken stupor, doesn't get the idea of trying to sleep with you. The pressure in your chest expands again and you long to retreat to the solitude of your cabin. But then the tone of the conversation changes abruptly and you are jolted out of your thoughts. Your fertility is the subject of discussion - and you feel the nausea rising in you.

"Why don't you have a son yet?" George asks William, without even looking at you, he leans forward and looks directly at William.

William is draining his glass and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Y/n just isn't able to grow a son inside of her...", William replies, slurring his words clearly audible.

You close your eyes for a moment and want to just throw up.

Suddenly there is a hand on your thigh and you look down at your thighs, startled. That hand doesn't belong to William and your gaze jumps to George, "Maybe you're not fucking her neatly enough?" And though he looks at you with his glazed eyes and lets his gaze wander over your body, his words are directed at William.

You bat his hand away, but he puts it back on your thigh and grabs you tighter. The other men laugh lightly and you hear William chuckle beside you.

"Well, I guess she just dried up," William says, sipping his next drink. The other women's gazes are on you. The looks reflect a mixture of compassion and hidden relief at not being the topic of conversation.

A haze of tears gathers in your eyes, and with greater determination you slap George's outstretched hand away from your thigh. Despite his insistent grin, you rise from the table, nearly knocking over the chair in your haste. Without a single word, you leave the room, your hurried footsteps echoing through the room as you exit the dining area.

With a purposeful stride, you cross the unfamiliar path ahead of you. Not knowing your destination, you let your feet guide you, propelled by a wave of raw emotion. The pressure in your chest becomes an unbearable burden, and as tears blur your surroundings, you navigate carefully to avoid accidental collisions. Your footsteps carry you on amid your sobs until you suddenly find yourself on top of the deck, which becomes a place of solitude in the evening hours.

You almost breathe a sigh of relief - a moment of seclusion that gives you peace. Your path leads you to the stern of the ship, where you lean against the railing, your breath coming in rapid gasps, and fatigue settling in your bones. Again you are struck by the calm of the waves crashing against the hull. An almost soothing rhythm in contrast to the turmoil inside you.

Your eyes are fixed on the vastness of the black sea, while your thoughts linger on your inner turmoil. The salty smell of the sea air fills your senses. At that moment, the thought of surrendering to the embrace of the sea and escaping the burden of existence becomes a tantalizing prospect. A heavy gulp follows, hindered by the spreading heaviness that has settled in your chest. Your fingers clutch the railing, your grip is desperate and determined at the same time. Before your mind can catch up with you, you find yourself on the first bar of the railing, suspended between two worlds.

You breathe heavily and feel the adrenaline in your limbs. Determined, you swing your leg over the railing, still holding on tightly to it. You can literally feel the great expanse spreading out behind you, the fresh wind blowing around you and seeming to dispel the heaviness in your chest. Almost magically, the darkness of the sea draws you in. It wants to envelop you, to finally give you peace and quiet. You close your eyes and notice how your fingers loosen around the railing.

"Y/n?" it suddenly sounds and your attention is diverted from your supposed salvation.

You open your eyes and see the steel-blue eyes. The eyes you've been longing for, the eyes that would take the heaviness off your chest.

But Tom doesn't seem relaxed. He looks worried. And suddenly you remember you're on the wrong side of the railing. Your fingers grip the railing tighter again.

"Y/n... What are ya doing...?" he says in a calm voice, but you notice that this calmness doesn't reach the rest of his body.

You don't answer, but your heavy breathing can clearly be heard.

"Please don't do that...", Tom whispers. He takes a step towards you. He moves very slowly, afraid that he might scare you.

"I would have to save ya. Jump in after ya, ya know," he says with a slightly desperate smile.

"You wouldn't have to," you reply quietly, but in a firm voice.

But he just nods slightly and takes another step toward you.

"I'm a sailor... It's my job to protect ya," he says. He takes the next step.

"It's not," you say in an even firmer voice.

"And I'm tired of men telling me what their job is, what to do and what not to do.... What I have to do," you say a little angrily, not paying attention for a moment. Your one foot loses its grip and slips into the dark void, you cry out slightly.

"Hey!", Tom shouts loudly and is immediately at your side.

He holds your arms tightly and tries to pull you back up.

You look at him and breathe heavily. His blue eyes stare at you, taking the heaviness out of your chest.

"Okay. I'm not going to tell ya what to do..." he says softly, but you can feel how hard he's breathing, "But I can't let ya fall into the water right now, okay?"

You nod just slightly, and suddenly you feel a fear that if you let go now, you wouldn't be able to see his blue eyes.

"Come..." he says gently, helping you climb back over the railing. With careful steps, you climb back over the railing. Tom's hands don't even leave your body. Only as you stand in front of him, safe, does his grip become gentler. He begins to gently rub your arms, coaxing warmth back into your being.

After some time, a slight smile plays around his lips.

"Come, I'll show ya something," he whispers.

With a slight nod of your head, you comply and surrender to his guidance. His arm wraps around your shoulders, a support that pulls you close. At that moment, his scent dances into your senses, an intoxicating elixir that completely captivates you. Your gaze is transfixed on his face and you notice the warm feeling inside you that you already felt while dancing. You sink into his pleasant nearness.

Lost in the flood of your feelings, you don't notice the path Tom is taking until he unexpectedly comes to a stop. Standing at the bow of the ship, your eyes are fixed on the distance the ship is heading. Tom places your hands on the railing as he stands close behind you. His arms are wrapped around you as if in an embrace, making you feel safe. His hands rest on yours, his thumbs gently stroking the backs of your hands. Your shared silence makes this moment perfect. You feel his warm breath on the back of your neck, his nose gently grazing your ear. The sea, once so alluring, has completely lost its magic. Its call is muffled, no longer as irresistible as the refuge in Tom's embrace.

"Don't look behind... You'll miss so many beautiful things...", Tom whispers in your ear, "If ya look ahead, you'll see much more beautiful, new things."

When you turn your gaze to the side and meet his eyes, goose bumps run down your skin. At that moment, tears well up in your eyes - the expression for the overwhelming feelings that rise within you. It is like a profound realization; a lifetime spent in the sea of uncertainty, and suddenly, as if predestined by fate, he appears. In seemingly no time at all, he reshapes the world you know and makes you the center of his world. A gentle nod escapes you, a wordless approval of the deep connection unfolding.

In the midst of this tender interlude, a soft smile plays around Tom's lips, his touches resembling a gentle whisper as he gently caress your cheek with his nose. The warmth of his breath continues to dance on your skin, a tantalizing foretaste of what might come - but he holds back the kiss. You've never longed so much to feel a man's lips. It's a moment suspended in time, full of unspoken promises and the exquisite tension of a love that is just beginning to unfurl its wings.

"Let me take ya to bed..." he suddenly says softly.

Your eyes widen as your breath catches in your throat and your cheeks flush.

"Not like that, love," he says immediately when he sees the blush on your cheeks and chuckles briefly.

"Well... actually, yes, but no," he adds and again he manages to elicit a laugh from you. He smiles at you, "I like your laugh much better than those sad features," he says softly. You feel the heaviness in your chest fade into the background with Tom at your side. Again you lose yourself in his gaze.

"Okay, sailor... Take me to bed," you say with a slight smile.

"At your service, milady," he says with a smile. Gently, he withdraws from you, carrying with him the comforting embrace of his presence. Immediately, an all-encompassing longing blossoms within you, yearning to be enveloped by his nearness once again. Hesitantly, your grip around the railing loosens, and you turn to face Tom. He stands there in his uniform, giving you a bright smile, a beacon of reassurance. He extends his hand, a silent invitation, and you grasp the life anchor he offers you. Gradually he leads you along the path to your cabin, each step a harmonious dance of shared anticipation of what may be to come, and at the same time with the conscience that your time together will soon be over.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tag list:

@aemonds-wifey @hoshi-miharu-blog @arryn-nyx @aemonds-eyeball @praline357 @melsunshine @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @lauftivy @bellaisasleep @snh96

#tom bennett #tom bennett x you #tom bennett x y/n #tom bennett imagine #tom bennett fanfiction #tom bennett fanfic #tom bennett smut #tom bennett fluff #world on fire #lois bennett #ewan mitchell #prince aemond targaryen #osferth #tom bennett x reader #baby monk

195 notes · View notes

magenta-somethings · 28 days ago

Note

What's your take on the new absolute universe? I'm curious as to whether you envision an absolute timkon (or like slightly different but still same vibes kind of pairing) and if so, how you'd explain/justify it.

Thanks for this ask, because it really sent me down the rabbit hole. I hadn’t even thought about Absolute!Timkon before this and now I have Thoughts. So many Thoughts. I’ve been doing nothing for the last two hours but having Thoughts. I’m even been driven to using capitalisation.

I’ll admit, I was a little skeptical about the Absolute Universe, but I was actually really impressed with Absolute Batman #1. If I’m correctly understanding what they’re doing with the Absolute Universe (which I’ll discuss more later), I’m excited to see more, because its optimism masquerading as cynicism and I think that’s fun and interesting and I appreciate so much more than just a dark, gritty take on the characters (which can be fun and interesting! But in small doses).

Also. I am not immune to woman with sword bigger than her. (Absolute Wonder Woman, save me.)

Rought outline of this post: my understanding of what the philosophy of the Absolute Universe is —> some analysis of mainline!Tim & how he could be translated into Absolute!Tim —> some analysis of mainline!Kon & how he could be translated into Absolute!Kon —> some ramblings about Absolute!Timkon & Absolute!YJ

[disclaimer: this is based on the comics I’ve read (Superboy (1994), Young Justice (1998), about 50% of Robin (1993), a fair number of modern comics) & what analysis I’ve seen of comics I haven’t yet read, as I’m just about to enter the Teen Titans era of my Kon (& Tim) readthrough. Also, Absolute Universe is obviously very new, so I am working off of limited evidence.]

[also. Spoilers for Absolute Batman #1]

So let’s dive into my understanding of what the Absolute Universe (AU) is trying to do.

These are Absolute Universe’s taglines:

Without the mansion…without the money…without the butler…what’s left is the Absolute Dark Knight! Without the island paradise…without the sisterhood that shaped her…without a mission of peace…what’s left is the Absolute Amazon! Without the fortress…without the family…without a home…what’s left is the Absolute Man of Steel!

So, the philosophy seems to be stripping superheroes of their ‘support beams’ (emotional, physical and philosophical), to force them to rely on a single essential part of their character. With Absolute!Bruce, based on issue #1, that seems to be his dedication to Gotham. And also bat-related trauma.

However, it’s not as straightforward as ‘characters are worse off’. The Absolute Universe taketh, but it also giveth. Absolute!Bruce isn’t an orphan—his mother is still alive, and still very much in his life. He also has a friend group! They’re his rogues gallery in the mainline, which probably doesn’t bode well for their relationships, but still! However, while this is giving something to Bruce, it can still be seen as taking away something from Batman—his isolation and his orphanhood.

Absolute!Bruce doesn’t—and never did—have his wealth, Alfred or his orphanhood, which leaves him with only his dedication to Gotham. And that’s enough for him to still become Batman.

From the promotional material I’ve read, AU (and damn, that acronym is going to be confusing sometimes) is all about appearing dark, so that light can ultimately triumph. It’s about the characters becoming heroes, even coming from circumstances which, by rights, shouldn’t lead them to becoming heroes. And that’s mainly done by worsening them circumstances, but also at times improving them.

So, what would this mean for Absolute!Tim & Absolute!Kon? What essential part of their characters would still drive them to become heroes, even with everything else stripped away?

Both of them are characters concerned with legacy & their responsibility to said legacy. In the process of writing this, I’ve realised there’s actually some very interesting similarities & differences between their characters in regards to this but that’s (mostly) for another time. What is important here, is that they did not invent the symbols on the chest. They inherited the legacies, and that means their drive for becoming heroes is fundamentally different to Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman’s.

For Mainline!Tim, I’d say that just as Bruce is dedicated to Gotham, he’s so, so dedicated to the symbols of Batman and Robin. He values them to the extent that when he thought Bruce & Dick were faltering in their roles, he stepped in and—when Dick didn’t want to take up the mantle of Robin again—ended up committing his life to Robin. It’s a duty he chose but one he now can’t abandon even after he has to make sacrifice after sacrifice. [sidenote: I haven’t read his not-Robin era of Robin 93 yet but my understanding is that a large part of why he did give up the mantle is to fulfill his duty as son (i.e. to obey his father)]. And so when he’s kicked out of the Robin mantle, it fucking stings because he’s sacrificed so much for it.

So, for Absolute!Tim, I think the commitment and duty to Batman & Robin has to be what stays. Which means what I think the ‘support beams’ that go is everything he ends up sacrificing/losing over his series — his parents, his friends, his life as Tim. Or, in other words, he starts the series as an orphan. Sorry Absolute!Tim, Absolute!Bruce has used up the living parent allowance. What could be interesting is if Tim is also introduced as having a more criminal/villainous background, since mainline!Tim’s background is respectable, upper class (akin to Absolute!Bruce’s background change), only for him to see Batman and be a convert to the cause. That even without a background where he's raised with the standard lessons on the importance of responsibility and being a good person, he still ends up committing himself to the duty of being Robin. [edit: to be clear I do mean villainous rather than low-income, because he would still receive those lessons--probably even more so--if Jack and Janet were simply poor]

I also think he wouldn't have seen Dick's parents fall. Yet he would still come to believe in the symbols of Robin and Batman even without that formative experience. Again, I'm picturing him, in his teens or even older, seeing Batman and/or Robin solving a crime (maybe even his own crime! or one he's at least an accessory to) and becoming a believer.

For Kon, the ‘S’ symbol wasn’t even something he was born into, but was *created for*. He’s desperate to prove himself worthy of the ‘S’ because, otherwise… what worth does he have? And that feeds into the other large part of his character, which is that the world doesn’t seem to have a place for him. He was created to be Superman, but then Superman came back. He lived in Hawaii but then Hawaii didn’t want him, there was Cadmus but then Cadmus had to disappear, he tried to make a home in Suicide Slum but that didn’t work out. The Ravers & then Young Justice broke up. For a time he has the Kents and Teen Titans but then he dies, and then is brought back just in time to be erased from existence. Only to be brought back into a world where Superboy was someone else & there’s *two* Superman (one being the former Superboy) & only like ten people remember him. That was a bit of a tangent but, basically, I’d say his relationship to the ‘S’ is being born for a legacy that ended up not really having room for him, and him having to struggle to make that space for himself.

For Absolute!Kon…. honestly I could see a couple different approaches. Despite what I said earlier about him being ‘born’ into the mantle being important, it could be interesting to see a Kon who chooses to take up the mantle more akin to what mainline!Tim did. Maybe a middle ground of Kon being created as clone, but given a normal, well-adjusted life where he’s unaware of his origins, with an adopted family who loves and supports him, & then him choosing to become a hero & try and forge a place for himself within the Superman legacy even though he already has a place in the world. Which I think is also funny because it would be a complete inverse of what’s happening with all the other Absolute characters. They’re all ‘would X character still be X without their support systems?’ while this is ‘would Kon still be Kon *with* a support system (from the get to)?’ Basically, really leaning into the logic of Absolute!Bruce still having his mother, where what drove Kon to be a hero was that he had nothing else, so why would he become Superboy if he has a life as Kon/Connor? And in asking that question, what is revealed as the essential part of Kon’s character is that he *cares*. He cares so, so much. Throughout his solo, a lot of his suffering comes from his repeated ‘screwing up’ (in quotes, because damn, a lot of it was just him being a kid) because it leads to people getting hurt, and he *cares*.

To be honest, initially I was thinking more ‘what if Kon wasn’t a clone but still struggled to find his place within the Superman legacy?’ but I’m actually liking the idea of ‘Kon is a clone but was given a normal childhood’ way more.

So! What would be the implications for Timkon? I think this would be fun because it would flip some aspects of the Timkon dynamic, where Kon is the one who has a pretty normal home life while Tim is the one couch-surfing, while reinforcing others, like Tim being the more obviously obsessed one (since he’s going to have fewer people to care about) while Kon is a bit more lowkey about it (but ends up equally devoted). This is also a Tim who would, in fact, be a lot more morally grey (kind of starting at his lowest points in Red Robin, with the possibility of going up or downhill) than this Kon, which could be interesting! Kon is, at his core, a kind person, one who believes in redemption and second-chances; he often extends his hands to even villains, asking if he can help them and trying to convince them there’s a better way. So there could be an aspect of Kon trying to get Tim to be more traditionally heroic, while Tim tries to get Kon to be more realistic about the darker setting they’re in; a weird parallel to Mainline!Tim trying to get Mainline!Kon to be more serious/responsible in the 90s era.

I also think in this universe, Kon might outright open his home up to Tim, after finding out he doesn’t really have a life outside Robin. And Tim would be Bewildered by this. Like I don’t think this Kon would be strict with his secret identity, even though he has a legitimate need for one, and that would confuse this Tim, who doesn’t really have a secret identity but only because nothing in his life as Tim is really important enough to protect. And then Tim would end up having his turn providing support to Kon after Kon starts being hit with the Inherent Trauma of Being a Superhero. (The whole thing about not being super strict about his identity? Yeah. That would definitely come to bite this Kon in the ass.)

Basically, it’s a Timkon that wouldn’t be the same as Mainline!Timkon because its not the same Tim and Kon. But I still think there could be that same devotion, developed through years of friendship (and then lowkey romantic tension).

As for how they would meet, I imagine Young Justice happening but, like, it forms even more casually/unintentionally than YJ98. The core four (& ideally Cissie/Anita/Greta) just keep running into each other, and then start hanging out because it’s nice being able to be around other teens who Get It (especially since most of them are probably going to have even less of a home life than mainline), and they accidentally stumble into both a friend group (if I had my way, they’d basically be a queer found family) & an unofficial team. And Kon would just be very casual about inviting all of them to hang out at his place (which, again, confuses the others).

If you've read this far, thank you for indulging me!

#asks #timkon #Absolute Universe #my stuff

37 notes · View notes

theology101 · 5 months ago

Text

I have Apocalpyse Brain Rot from Fallout and with the new movie release (and replaying Fallout 1), I’ve been driven (hehe) inexperably towards Mad Max

And why does Fury Road have the best cast for fanfic?

There’s Nux - who treats Capable like a fucking goddess, has zero care for his own life and is only looking for something to pledge himself to (its Capable)

There’s Max - a quiet, deeply sad and depressed man who also always ends up doing the right thing despite bitching and moaning the whole time

The Wives - each of whom feels and are incredibly different from one another while still having a shared bond of sisterhood and survival against impossible odds

And then there is Furiosa. What to say about Furiosa beyond the fact that she is… Furiosa. My angry, tragic, broken woman who has reforged herself into a weapon of absolute steel, all to hide the scared and broken child hidden within

Like damn

Shit’s banging

#mad max #mad max fury road #furiosa #mad max the wives #max rockatansky #nux #mad max nux #i CHEW GLASS #THEY ARE SO GREAT #ALL OF THEM #I LIKE THEM IN ANY AU #which is weird of em tbh #but i’ve read a pet shop and coffee shop au #yet to be dissapointed #i also didnt mention the absolutely hilarious Max-Nux vibe #Like #Nux always assumes Max is with him #and is always proven wrong lmao #it takes maybe 2/3s of the movie til hes actually all on team good guy

48 notes · View notes

sirensisterhood · 1 year ago

Text

Charmed ones x Borderlands sirens

Maya=piper

Lilith=pure

Amara=Phoebe

Tyreen,angel and steele=paige

#borderlands 3 #borderlands 2 #sirens #borderlands #maya the siren #lilith the firehawk #amara the siren #commandant steele #siren sisterhood #angel the siren #tyreen calypso #charmed #Witches and Sirens #Charmed with Guns

8 notes · View notes

littlest-w01f · 3 months ago

Text

Chapter Twelve

Series Masterlist

Cw: Survivor's guilt, self harm

The sun was shining as Rheana sat in the house of winds, with Seraphim over her lap. Its blade gleamed like liquid silver under the sun's glow. With a soft cloth, Rheana carefully wiped away at it, her fingers tracing the intricate engravings that adorned the weapon's hilt. As Rheana carefully cared for the blade of Seraphim, she smiled, remembering how she had written how to take care for weapons long ago, the warm sunlight streaming through the windows of the House of Winds danced across her face, casting a gentle glow upon her tanned features.

Those captivating, soulful depths of her deep violet eyes seemed lost in thought as she worked, her slender fingers moving deftly along the razor-sharp edge of her trusted companion. The rhythmic clinking of steel against stone filled the air as Rheana meticulously sharpened Seraphim's blade. Her focus was unwavering, each stroke deliberate and precise.

Manually grinding down the edges of her sword using whetstone. Starting off with coarser grit stones then gradually move on to finer ones until she achieved the desired sharpness. Letting gravity help her through it.

Rheana continued her meticulous work, her gaze never leaving the blade. Each careful stroke brought forth a slight hiss of metal meeting stone, the sound harmonizing with the rhythm of her heart. The cool touch of the whetstone against her skin contrasted sharply with the warmth of the sun on her back.

In times like these, she truly missed her Valkyrie companions, days of being a Blade and Valkyrie, of honing her own darkness, turning it into Seraphim, it was all so many centuries ago, yet seemed like yesterday.

Memories flooded back to Rheana as she continued polishing Seraphim's gleaming surface, the thunderous roar of battle, the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins, the intoxicating scent of blood and sweat mingling in the air. She recalled the fierce camaraderie among her fellow Valkyries, their unbreakable bonds forged in the crucible of combat.

Rheana's mind wandered to Tanwyn, her closest friend and confidante, with whom she had shared countless adventures and secrets. They had stood side by side, blades drawn, facing down the most formidable foes. Rheana gazed out the window at the serene landscape, she couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia for those bygone days of glory and sisterhood.

She forced herself to think of the tasks at hand, Kallos had returned from delivering her letter to Tarquin, thought they came back without a reply, Rhysand had taken Feyre to the Weaver, she hoped Feyre would not suffer the full wrath of Stryga. When she realised that their mother had given up the ring to her, Rheana had tried to get it back, only to barely escape with her life. She had been young and stupid back then, but she was sure if she were to go against her again, she might have better odds, since now she was equal parts a cocky Illyrian and a cocky Valkyrie.

Rheana's lips curled into a wry smile at the memory of her younger self, brash and impulsive, eager to prove herself. But life had taught her the value of patience, strategy, and measured action. Now, as she tended to Seraphim, her thoughts turned to the present predicament. Rheana set aside the whetstone and examined Seraphim's edge critically.

And the Dark sword glowed, as if happy. Seraphim hummed softly, its dark metal pulsing with otherworldly energy as it responded to Rheana's attention. The blade seemed almost sentient, craving the bond between wielder and weapon. In the House of Winds, the atmosphere grew charged, as if the very air vibrated with the sword's power.

Rheana felt an inexplicable thrill course through her veins, a primal connection to the weapon that transcended mere craftsmanship. It was as if Seraphim yearned for the chaos of battle, the clash of steel, the heat of spilt blood, just like the very darkness in her that she used to forge it. The desire for destruction simmered beneath its gleaming surface, waiting to be unleashed once more.

"There there," Rheana tutted at the weapon of mass destruction as if it were a docile pet. The sword's thrumming subsided slightly, though the dark aura surrounding it remained palpable. Rheana could sense its eagerness, the hunger for violence and mayhem that dwelled within its core. It was a reflection of her own nature, the shadowy aspects she kept leashed, lest they consume her entirely.

She soon got distracted by Cassian and Amren bickering, Amren looked in the right mind to kill Cassian, he for sure had made another joke about her height.

Amren shot Cassian a venomous glare, her petite frame quivering with indignation. "How dare you!" she seethed, her voice low and deadly. "I'll have you know, I could snap you in half like a twig."

Cassian held up his hands in mock surrender, a mischievous glint in his hazel eyes. "Easy there, little one. I was merely jesting." He chuckled, clearly amused by Amren's ire.

Rheana rolled her eyes, exasperated by their antics. "For the love of Mother, can you two keep it civil?"

Rheana watched the exchange between Amren and Cassian with a mixture of amusement and unease. Amren's fury was palpable, her petite frame practically vibrating with rage as she hurled insults at the smirking male. Cassian, ever the provocateur, seemed to revel in riling up the ancient female, his eyes sparkling with mischief even as Amren threatened him with all manner of creative tortures.

As the argument reached a fever pitch, Cassian reached for his knife at his thigh in an attempt to intimidate Amren, who looked raging at his attempt, Rheana intervened, her voice cutting through the verbal sparring like a blade. "Enough." The single word carried the weight of command, honed by centuries of leadership. Both Amren and Cassian fell silent, turning to face her with varying degrees of contrition and defiance.

Rheana fixed them with a stern look, her violet eyes flashing with annoyance. She paused then, "I smell... meat," Her nose crinkled, "Not the good kind."

Just then Rhysand and Feyre landed on the floor, Rheana gaped at the state Feyre was in, covered in greasy meat, fats and hair, clearly from the weaver's chimney.

"You smell like barbecue," Amren cringed, her nose crinkling.

Feyre's clothes were stained with grease and ash, her hair matted with soot. The scent of charred flesh hung heavily around her, a pungent reminder of the ordeal she'd endured.

Rhysand, meanwhile, appeared relatively pristine compared to his mate, though there was a certain smug satisfaction in his demeanour. He took in the scene with a casual air, his violet eyes twinkling with amusement. "I see our little adventure was successful," he remarked, a sly grin playing on his lips.

Rheana exchanged a glance with Rhysand, concern etched into her features. "What happened?" she asked, her voice laced with worry.

"You kill her?" Cassian asked at the same time. A little more smug.

"No," Rhysand was the one to answer, "But given how much the Weaver was screaming, I’m dying to know what Feyre darling did."

Before Rheana could ask Feyre if she was alright, she threw up all over the floor. Feyre retched violently, expelling the contents of her stomach onto the polished floorboards. The acrid stench of bile and partially digested meat filled the room, causing Cassian to swear at the sight

Rheana rushed to Feyre's side, supporting her as she continued to heave. "Easy there," she murmured, her brow furrowed with concern. "Take your time. Breathe."

Feyre coughed and spat, wiping her mouth with the leather on her shoulder. When she finally straightened, her face was pale and streaked with tears, but there was a fierce determination burning in her eyes. "I'm fine," she rasped, her voice hoarse. "It's done."

With a wave of her hand, Amren cleaned both the bile and Feyre, as Rheana winnowed a glass of cold water for her to sip on. The water was a welcome relief, soothing Feyre's parched throat and helping to settle her queasy stomach. She nodded gratefully towards Amren, who had effortlessly banished the mess from the floor. Despite her efforts to appear strong, Feyre's body trembled with exhaustion, each breath she drew seeming to come with effort.

Meanwhile, Rhysand leaned against the wall, arms folded across his chest. His violet eyes roamed over Feyre with an unreadable expression, though a hint of pride flickered within their depths.

"She… detected me somehow," Feyre managed to say, as Rhysand led her to the large black table. "And locked the doors and windows. So I had to climb out through the chimney. I got stuck," Cassian's brows rose at the words, "and when she tried to climb up, I threw a brick at her face."

Rheana snorted, "I would've paid to see that."

Amren glared at Rhysand "And where were you?"

"Waiting, far enough away that she couldn’t detect me." Rhysand said simply.

Feyre was snarling at him, "I could have used some help."

"You survived," he shrugged, and Rheana knew that had Feyre needed help, he would've gone against the Weaver himself, damn the consequences, she felt that through their bond, those tattooed letters on their respective hands. "And found a way to help yourself."

"That’s what this was also about," Feyre spat again. "Not just this stupid ring," She reached into her pocket, slamming the ring she had been carrying all along down on the table, "Or my abilities, but if I can master my panic."

Rheana froze seeing her mother's mating ring, the one around her neck, her father's, seemed to hum at the closeness, those rings were each other's other halves, just like their parents had been to each other.

"What creature is that?" Feyre whispered unceremoniously the next afternoon as Rheana opened the door to her room to let Feyre in, Mor already sitting on her bed, Feyre's eyes on Kallos, the beast sat on a plush chair, licking their scaly paws.

"Don't ask," Rheana said simply, "They are more easily pissed off than Amren." She added as a warning.

Kallos turned their reptilian head, fixing Feyre with a piercing stare from eyes that glinted like polished obsidian. For a moment, the only sound was the soft rustle of scales and fur as the creature shifted their position, muscles rippling beneath their dark hide. Then, in a display of feline-like grace, Kallos unfolded themself from the chair and padded silently over to Feyre, its tail swishing lazily behind it.

Rheana watched closely, ready to intervene if necessary, Kallos hissed softly, ears flattening against their skull as Feyre's gaze settled upon them. The creature's body glittered under the sunlight filtering through the window, a dangerous mix of hues that promised pain and death to those foolish enough to cross them.

Kallos's hiss was low and menacing, yet there was something almost curious about it as if the creature was intrigued rather than wanting to threaten Feyre. Slowly, they approached, their movements deliberate and unhurried. They stopped mere inches away from Feyre, their gaze never leaving hers.

Despite herself, Feyre found herself reaching out tentatively, her fingers hovering just above Kallos's scaly head. "They're beautiful," she whispered, her voice barely audible but the fae heard her loud and clear.

"They can sense your power," Rheana provided with a smile, "Well, we all can, but for them, it's more prominent. And with that complement, I think you earned petting privleges."

Kallos, on instinct, pressed their head in Feyre's hand, making the female smile. The creature seemed to enjoy the attention, closing their eyes and letting out a low purr. Feyre stroked their head gently, careful not to pull too hard on the scaled ears. She marvelled at the intricate patterns on Kallos's skin, the myriad shades of black that shimmered beneath her touch.

The gesture was unexpected, even to Feyre, but she didn't hesitate to respond. Her fingertips traced the contours of Kallos's head, feeling the rough texture of scales beneath her touch. It was an odd sensation, foreign and fascinating all at once.

A purr rumbled from Kallos's chest, vibrations travelling up Feyre's arm and into her shoulder. The sound was deep and resonant, filling the room with a low thrumming noise that seemed to vibrate on the very edges of perception.

"Wait... Is that a map of Prythian?" Feyre asked abruptly, looking at one of the walls, "What are the markers?"

"Just the places I've been." Rheana offered with a gentle smile, "You can travel too, after all of this is over, Rhys could take you."

"What does one wear, exactly, in the human lands?" Mor asked, digging through Rheana's closet.

"Layers," Feyre said, not trying to show her disappointment when Kallos retreated away from her. "They… Cover everything up. The décolletage might be a little daring depending on the event, but... Everything else gets hidden beneath skirts and petticoats and nonsense."

Rheana wrinkled her nose, pulling out a simple linen tunic and breeches. "Sounds dreadful. How do they move? Or breathe?" She tossed the garments aside, rummaging deeper into the closet.

"Sounds like the women are used to not having to run—or fight. I don’t remember it being that way five hundred years ago." Mor added,

"Even with the wall, the threat of faeries remained, so… Surely practical clothes would have been necessary to run, to fight any that crept through. I wonder what changed." Feyre showed them the clothes she had chosen from her closet, a rather simple top and pants.

"I suppose," Feyre mused aloud, holding up the garments for inspection, "that the threat has lessened with time, or perhaps people became complacent. Either way, I imagine it made fashion more about status and appearance than functionality."

Mor rolled her eyes, tossing another outfit onto the pile. "And then there’s the fact that most of the nobility have no intention of ever lifting a finger to defend themselves. Why bother with practicality when you’ve got a court full of soldiers to protect you?"

"True. It’s easier to rely on others when you’re surrounded by wealth and privilege." Rheana nodded thoughtfully, studying the outfits Feyre had selected. "Hey, that'll look so good on you." Rheana paused, noting the way Feyre held surprise in her eyes at the simple compliment she gave her.

"Nowadays, most women wed, bear children, and then plan their children’s marriages. Some of the poor might work in the fields, and a rare few are mercenaries or hired soldiers, but… the wealthier they are, the more restricted their freedoms and roles become. You’d think that money would buy you the ability to do whatever you pleased." Feyre voiced, stepping behind the dressing screen in Rheana's room, while the female used magic to switch her clothes

"Some of the High Fae," Mor spoke up, and Rheana watched her tell the story she had lived through, of Mor's childhood, of her being treated like a prized mare, "are the same."

"The rest of the story is long, and awful, and I’ll tell you some other time. I came in here to say I’m not going with you—to the mortal realm." Mor said after she was done, Rheana placed a hand on her sister's shoulder in silent comfort.

"Because of how they treat women?" Feyre asked, emerging from behind the screen.

"When the queens come, I will be there. I wish to see if I recognize any of my long-dead friends in their faces. But… I don’t think I would be able to… behave with any others." Mor spoke, standing up to slip away, to Hewn City, Rheana knew it.

"Cassian helped Rhys and I get Mor out. Before either had the real rank, Rhys and I getting caught would have been very little punishment, but for Cassian risked everything to make sure Mor stayed out of that court." Rheana spoke as she adjusted her leathers, "And he laughs about it, but he believes he’s a low-born bastard, not worthy of everything he's achieved, I swear, sometimes I want to shake some sense into him but he won't hear any of it," Rheana sighed heavily, running a hand through her hair. "It's infuriating, really. Cassian and Azriel are two of the most loyal, honourable beings I've ever known, and yet they refuse to see how truly exceptional they are."

"I’d like my sisters to meet you and Mor…" Feyre said as she slipped on some bangles, matching with her earrings and diadem, "I want them to hear your story. And know that there is a special strength… A special strength in enduring dark trials and hardships… And still remaining warm, and kind. Still willing to trust—and reach out."

Rheana smiled, "Well, most people wouldn't believe that, but that means more to me than you could possibly know."

"I’m sorry if I was not as welcoming to you as you were to me when I arrived at the Night Court." Feyre said hesitantly as they made their way out. "I was… I’m trying to learn how to adjust."

"No one here blames you if you're a little rough around the edges, you've been through so much, with Under the Mountain, Tamlin, and quite literally dying." Rheana said softly, wrapping an arm around her, "Besides, there have been moments I've been worse, so I don't judge, but I do appreciate you for appologising."

Rheana was clinging to Rhysand, her back was bloodied, three deep black claw marks on her back, she whimpered and winced at every breath. Tears were streaming down her face as she looked at the mutilated, deceased bodies of her mother and little sister, she could sense her father's rage through the land itself.

Rhysand cradled Rheana close, his hands gentle despite the fierce anger burning within him. He gazed down at the ravaged landscape, the once lush forest now scarred and blackened. The acrid stench of smoke and char hung heavy in the air, mingling with the coppery tang of blood.

Rheana was lightheaded, passing out in her brother's arms, not knowing for how long she was passed out, when she woke up, she looked around where she was, in her room, she couldn't remember a thing, until the searing pain in her back was made evident, then the feeling of dread coiled in her stomach, she sobbed as memories flooded back - the attack, the agony, the horror of losing her family. She felt Rhysand's strong arms wrap around her again, his warmth and solid presence grounding her even as despair threatened to consume her.

"It's alright, sister," he murmured, stroking her hair soothingly. "I'm here. We're safe now. You're safe."

But safety felt like a distant dream, a cruel mockery when grief and guilt gnawed at her insides. Rheana pulled away from Rhysand, as sobs wracked her body, each ragged breath a painful reminder of what she'd lost. She only sensed Cassian and Azriel in the room with her when she tried and failed to catch her breath.

"I should have protected them," She choked out, her voice raw with anguish. "I failed them. Failed as a daughter, as a sister… I am a failour."

"Rhea..." Azriel approached her gently, cautious of the darkness that swallowed his friend whole, he had been crying too, of course he was, he and Cassian had lost their mother figures when Rheana and Rhysand lost their mother, their friend when they did their sister, "It's not your fault."

Rheana gripped her hair hard enough to break the strands, "I failed. I couldn't save them." She could feel her dark blood trail down her back, she knew it would never heal, a constant reminder of how big of a failure she was, "What's even the point!?" She screamed, "Of being Carynthian? Of being the first female Illyrian to be considered a warrior, what with other females look up to when I couldn't even keep mine safe! Who will trust me to help stop clipping when I couldn't de a thing to stop my mother and sister's!"

Cassian stepped closer, his expression sombre, his hand reaching out tentatively to touch Rheana's shoulder but she flinched away. Rhysand was struggling, tears down his eyes as he saw his sister in the emotionally vulnerable state she was in, he didn't even know where their father was, though he didn't blame him, he had just lost his mate, he couldn't even imagine how big of a lose that felt, but he needed to help his sister.

"Shhh… It’s not your fault, Rhea," Rhysand soothed her from where he stood, knowing she needed a little distance, his own chest heaving with suppressed emotion. His heart ached for his sister.

"We will make the bastards who did this pay," He vowed fiercely, his eyes blazing with determination. "And you, my fierce and wonderful sister, will not let this define you. You are a survivor. You are strong. And you will honor your family by living, by thriving."

Rhysand's heart shattered seeing Rheana in such immense pain, his brave, brilliant sister reduced to this broken shell. He knelt before her, taking her tear-stained face in his hands.

Rheana got up again, she now held a knife in her hands, Rhysand swore, knowing she pulled it from him, he watched in fright as Rheana tore at her leathers from the knife, "Rhea-" He tried to use his powers to try to hold her mind to calm her, but all he found was darkness, nothing but empty darkness inside her mind.

"I don't deserve it!" Rheana tore at her top, till she was bare-chested, swirls of ink in her skin, marking her Illyrian heritage, Azriel was quick to move, but not quick enough as Rheana brought down the knife over the tattoo that marked her as Carynthian and winner of the Blood Rite. "I don't deserve any title." Azriel snatched the knife away before she could land another strike at herself.

The brothers exchanged a glance, fear etching lines into their faces. Cassian's heart pounded against his ribcage as he watched Azriel wrestle the knife from Rheana's grasp, the sound of steel scraping against flesh making him wince. But even as Azriel struggled to restrain her, the knife continued to glint dangerously, its edge wet with Rheana's blood.

"Rhea, stop!" Rhysand pleaded, his voice cracking with emotion. "Please, you need to come back to us. To me." He reached out, trying to grab her wrist, but she jerked away, her movements frenzied and unpredictable.

Azriel held onto her firmly, his grip unyielding, holding her close to him, while Cassian moved to stand guard, ready to intervene at the slightest provocation.

"I don't deserve to keep my wings..." Rheana gasped heavily, "I couldn't save theirs."

"You listen to me," Rhysand said fiercely, his eyes blazing with intensity. "This is NOT your fault. You are the strongest person I know, Rhea. What happened… It's a tragedy, a nightmare no one should ever endure. But you survived. And you WILL get through this."

He brushed away her tears with his thumbs, his touch feather-light. "Our mother and sister loved you more than anything. They would want you to live, to fight, to honor their memory by being the incredible female you are. Don't let this break you, Rhea. Please. We need you. I need you."

Rheana stared at Rhysand, her eyes searching his face for any sign of deceit or pity. But there was only love and sincerity shining back at her, reflected in the depths of his irises. A single tear slipped down her cheek as she slowly relaxed in Azriel's grip, the tension leaving her body.

Cassian sat down next to her too, his arm a comfort around her waist as he rested her head on her neck, holding her, Rhysand stitched her clothes back up with his magic, smiling when her tattoo healed itself, the marker wasn't something easily lost, holding her to him, the four of them huddled together

The silence was heavy, punctuated only by the occasional sniffle or soft murmur of reassurance. Yet even amidst the sorrow, there was a palpable sense of unity, of strength drawn from their shared bond and the knowledge that they faced this tragedy together.

As exhaustion began to claim Rheana, her eyelids growing heavy, Rhysand scooped her up into his arms, carrying her to the bed. He settled beside her, pulling her close, his heart aching with every shuddering breath she took.

{General Taglist - @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @dee-writes-smut @adalia-jaycee @anarchiii @alwayshave-faith @minnieoo}

{Flames and Darkness Taglist- @anuttellaa @tuggboatfishin @inloveallthetime}

15 notes · View notes