rauther
BELOVED FEYD-RAUTHA.
β a πππ ππ π§π°πππ°πΈ & π‘π¦π’ πΏππ.
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maybe this is a plotting call. but if it flops it wasn't
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asoiaf: a dance with dragons starters
β i fear i make you uneasy. β
β knowledge is a weapon. arm yourself well before you ride forth to battle. β
β go on. show your steel. give me cause to do the same. β
β fear is what keeps a man alive in this world of treachery and deceit. β
β these woods are not as empty as you think. β
β promise me that you will never turn against me. i could not bear that. promise me. β
β the only time a man can be brave is when he is afraid. β
β if i must die, i will die with an axe in my hand and a curse upon my lips. β
β tales are told of you. i hear them everywhere. people fear you. β
β go too far down that road,Β andΒ mistrustΒ canΒ poisonΒ you,Β make you sour and fearful. β
β you mistake me. that was a command, not an offer. β
β sorcery is a sword without a hilt. there is no safe way to grasp it. β
β prophecy is like a half-trained mule. it looks like it might be useful, but the moment you trust in it, it kicks you in the head. β
β it is not the foes who curse you to your face that you must fear, but those who smile when you are looking and sharpen their knives when you turn your back. β
β i rose too high, loved too hard, dared too much. i tried to grasp a star, overreached, and fell. β
β they think that this will break my pride, that it will make an end to me, but they are wrong. β
β tell me of the things that make you happy, the things that make you giggle, all your sweetest memories. remind me that there is still good in the world. β
β one war ends, another begins. there is always someone fighting someone somewhere. β
β this is what i was made for. the dance, the sweet steel song, a sword in my hand and a foe before me. β
β my enemies have told you i am dead. those tales are false, as you can see. β
β not all that a man does is done for gain. β
β i know that you believe me weak, frightened, feeble. β
β it takes a man to rule. kill the boy, and let the man be born. β
β do you mean to spend your whole life running away? β
β kingdoms are at hazard here. our lives, our names, our honour. this is no game weβre playing for your amusement. β
β however gentle the words, there are always darker motives underneath. i do not trust you. β
β a good honest face, but you should smile more. β
β my throne is made of burned bones, and it rests on quicksand. β
β you are so radiant today i fear to look on you. β
β prove yourself more trouble than you are worth, and you can go your own way. β
β you need not look so pale, i was only playing with you. β
β this is not the day i die, i promise you. β
β i wanted you from the first time i saw you. β
β was i so blind, orΒ didΒ iΒ closeΒ myΒ eyesΒ willingly, so i would not see the price of power? β
β men should not go wandering in this place. β
β hold your tongue and do as you are told, or you will soon wish you had. β
β you wonβt try. you will obey. β
β kneel and live. or go and die. itβs your choice to make. β
β are you so blind, or is it that you do not wish to see? β
β that is not a place you want to go to. β
β i will not go back without doing what i came for, no matter how hopeless it may seem. β
β the fairest woman in this worldβ¦i am drunk with the sight of you. β
β secrets are worth more than silver and sapphires. β
β we have come too far to turn back now. β
β what have i done to make you hate me so? β
β you meet so few men who value friendship over gold these days. β
β it is true, i am a bolder man than most. β
β i cannot go home. but i dare not stay here much longer. β
β foes and false friends are all around me. β
β the fewer folk who will know of this, the better. β
β all you have i gave you. remember that. β
β will you make me say it twice? go and do as i commanded you. β
β love is madness, and lust is poison. β
β i feel safe when iβm with you. β
β have you no smile for me? am i as fearful as all that? β
β why did i ever allow myself to be talked into this farce? β
β donβt think i donβt see what youβre doing. β
β i will tell you nothing. do me the same favor. β
β if i look back i am lost. β
β a crown should not sit easy on the head. β
β we must show a little trust, you and i. β
β trust only your companions, and do your best to avoid attracting notice. β
β youβre not going to try to kill me again, i hope. β
β if you will forgive me for saying so, you lookβ¦weary. are you sleeping? β
β your clothes are stained with blood. take them off. β
β every fool loves to hear that heβs important. β
β my father used to tell me that a man must know his enemies. β
β you are a harmless creature, to be sure. as innocent as a lamb. β
β till then, let us drink and dream. β
β you will be tempted to betray me. to run or fight or join our foes. iβll not hear you deny it. β
β soon enough you may have grave need of me. do not refuse my friendship. β
β it is best that no man knows that you are here. β
β i kill kings, havenβt you heard? β
β should any ill befall you, this world would lose its savor. β
β some will look at you and see only another doomed pretender. β
β i think life is a jape. yours, mine, everyoneβs. β
β i will forgive those wordsβ¦once. but never presume to threaten me again. β
β your father would be so proud if he could see you. β
β just once you might try to give me an answer that would please me. β
β they love me well. none would betray me. β
β i have sins enough to answer for; iβll have no part of this one. β
β i mean you no harm, you know. β
β i do not trust you, but i need you. β
β weβll both sleep, and dream of sweeter days. close your eyes. β
β since you ask so nicely, how can i deny you? β
β no wine is half so intoxicating as your beauty. β
β why should i beg for what is owed me? β
β a lord may love the men he commands, but he cannot be a friend to them. β
β let them try and trouble us, weβll show them what weβre made of. β
β a leader should be feared, by friend and foe alike. if men think me cruel, so much the better. β
β the enemy of my friend is my enemy. β
β a book can be as dangerous as a sword in the right hands. β
β i am an old man, grown weary of this world and its treacheries. β
β these are desperate days, and like to grow more desperate. β
β we need to find shelter before nightfall. β
β there are footsteps behind us. we are being followed. β
β this is no common fog. it stinks of sorcery. β
β i am glad you came to me. it is good to see you again, my friend. β
β the man who does nothing also takes a risk. β
β the women are the strong ones. β
β afraid, are you? i would be if i were you. β
β tell me a tale. some tale of valor with a happy ending. β
β iβll have a cup of wine as well. to clear my head. β
β we may lose our heads, itβs trueβ¦but what if we prevail? β
β keep your swords sharp. weβll have us a real fight soon. β
β this is going to end badly. β
β what are you doing here? how did you get past my guards? β
β it is so hard. to be strong. i donβt always know what i should do. β
β let us instead speak of love, of dreams and desire. β
β you wound me, wandering off like this. have you grown tired of my hospitality so soon? β
β with this sword i defend my subjects and destroy those who menace them. β
β it is too late for such misgivings. you made your choice. β
β in times as confused as these, even men of honor must wonder where their duty lies. β
β why? what did i ever do to you? β
β we must be certain that we do not choose the losing side. β
β dream sweet dreams. there are no monsters here. β
β i know who you are. i know what you are. β
β a little honest loathing might be refreshing, like a tart wine after too much sweet. β
β a bloody sword is a beautiful thing. β
β a ruler belongs to their people, not to themself. β
β if the ones i killed come haunt me, i will kill them all again. β
β you shine so brightly, you will blind every man who dares look upon you. β
β a fair bargain leaves both sides unhappy, iβve heard it said. β
β thereβs blood on your hands, aye, same as mine. β
β i have done wicked things, i know, but i could not bear for you to hate me. β
β it is good to see you smiling again. β
β i have doubts enough without you throwing oil on the fire of my fear. β
β blood pays for blood, a life for a life. β
β go home, if that is what you want. i am staying. β
β a manβd think thereβs no trust between us. β
β i would choose freedom over comfort every time. β
β you are even lovelier than i was told. β
β stay. i do not wish to be alone. β
β treachery on treachery. is there no end to it? β
β dreams and prophecies. why must they always be in riddles? β
β one wrong word, and this could turn to blood in half a heartbeat. β
β you lie. i can see the truth in your eyes. β
β throw down your steel and stand aside, and no harm need come to you. β
β you are supposed to be my friend. why must you mock my hopes? β
β it is better to die with honor than to live without it. β
β it does no good to brood on lost battles and roads not taken. β
β i see you are deaf to sense. β
β you are no better than me. weβre just the same. β
β a man should never draw his sword unless he means to use it. β
β you kill men for the wrongs they have done, not the wrongs that they may do someday. β
β close your eyes. close your ears. turn away. you do not need to see this. β
β the sooner we are gone from this place, the better. β
β i am sorry my actions have displeased you. i did as i thought best. β
β you do not need to trust a man to use him. β
β if you cannot do this thing, you need only say so. there is no shame in that. β
β never wound a foe when you can kill him. dead men donβt claim vengeance. β
β this is what i wanted, what i worked for. so why does it taste so much like defeat? β
β honest men should never need to hide their faces. β
β i am not the trusting fool you take me for. β
β menβs lives have meaning, not their deaths. β
β heβs dead. he wonβt bite. β
β if this is the price for peace, i pay it willingly. β
β it makes me wonder whose side you are on. β
β dreams and prophecies. why must they always be in riddles? β
β i will not say that you are welcome. nor will i deny that i have hoped that you might come. β
β you have the eyes of a wolf and a taste for blood. β
β men are mad and gods are madder. β
β one war ends, another begins. there is always someone fighting someone somewhere. β
β not all risks lead to ruin. β
β is there some place with fewer eyes and ears? β
β i need you now as i have never needed you before. β
β tell me, is there any fight left in you? β
β it was the wind that you heard screaming. β
β crying? i was not crying. why would i cry? β
β are you some butcher of the battlefield, hacking down every man who stands in your way? β
β rain. a storm is coming. β
β that was simple. simpler than i dared hope. simpler than it should have been. β
β see that you do not speak of this. iβll not have this tale spread. β
β how could i be so blind for so long? β
β you had a bad dream, that was all. β
β are you prepared to defend that boast with sword or lance? β
β i will do it. i said i would. i will. β
β think that. believe that. tell yourself itβs true. β
β you have more enemies than you know. β
β i have no heart. i only have a hole. β
β it has been too long since iβve killed a man. β
β words are wind. words cannot harm me. β
β have you forgotten who i am? β
β too many good men died that day. β
β it is so good to see your face, your sweet face. β
β it is still not too late to abandon this folly. β
β i will not stay here to be insulted. β
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feydrauthafeydrauthafeydrauthafeydrautha
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i wanna learn about bg3 because feyd looks weird enough to belong in that verse
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read a fic recently where feyd overhears a fremen soldier call him harkonnen scum and he fucking. winks at them
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> @irulean β βyou mistake me. that was a command, not an offer.β
βa command.. you command me, princess?β his head tilts ever so slightly to the left, mouth dipping into an almost-mocking down-curve an approximation of mulling things over in spite of never doing so. feyd-rautha studies her then, a flicker of artificial light catching on a golden lock like a gilded waterfall, cascading down her neck. [it's microscopic, the movement of his irises as they take in her presentation, his own expression abstaining from any feeling as he does so.] they were both rehearsed in the issuing of commands and expecting compliance in return, parading an air of autonomy as though they both did not wear chains in simply being here. having everything an heir could and still nothing they wanted. their wants were never factored into ascendancy, it was simply expectation generational planning that dared to defy fate and opted for second best. if that thought ever bothered her, her expression does not yield to it; her regal bearing reigns stoic and defiant, mere presence and pin-straight standing demanding the room's attention as though she belongs.
and when she speaks, it is like the room itself holds its breath, the air taut as four walls sucks in the oxygen around them and trembles in anticipation; an intense stare emanates from her partially obscured features. it annoys him. [or at least, that is what he translates the jump in his pulse to mean, thumping wildly against his colourless throat. but perhaps encased within it, a flutter of fear. uncertainty. the last time he was lured by a bene gesserit, he woke up without recollection, his body used as his mind had been elsewhere.] whatever mildness his own details deigned to offer washes away with the billowing wave of a curt brow, his serpentine irises crushed into slits as feyd-rautha bears down his rage, incensed by the mere suggestion of her commanding him anything; a sight proven rarer than expected, his indifference and ignorance had reigned supreme thus far into their forced companionship. and yet, her unwavering gaze brooked no argument as his own casts a shadow of a recent memory over her form. βjust know that if you dare to use that voice on me witch i'll have your tongue cut out.β feyd-rautha neglects to mention that was more the baron's tastes. silent, servile submission. the na-baron couldn't say that was anything close to what he desired from a wife, not that he desired a wife at all, but his doubts outweigh his wants, the princess' mouth was forever a mere moment away from sealing a fate, but whose? he did not know.
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AN INDEPENDENT WRITING BLOG FOR FEYD-RAUTHA HARKONNEN, BELONGING TO FRANK HERBERT'S DUNE. PRIMARILY BOOK-BASED WITH SELECT MOVIE INFLUENCES. AS WRITTEN BY JOSEPH.
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" i know you, feyd, " the baron said. " you will not refuse. "
all right, feyd-rautha thought. i need you now. i see that. the bargain's made. but i'll not always need you. and...someday...
#i have so many feelings about paul killing feyd's life-long ab*ser and feyd not being able to share in that moment#they never even had a real conversation#it makes me. insane
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gay son [paul atreides] or thot daughter [feyd-rautha harkonnen]
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it's different; something in that moment that snags between space and time where the distant echoes of the past fade into nirvana. [maybe all they had grown to be were the products of their makers, sinews stretched taut over bones until they resembled pawns that only their ancestors could possess an approximation of love for. maybe that no longer mattered.] it's seeing, seeing as feyd-rautha had as he took a dutiful knee at the emperor's silent bidding, her at his side; the chainmail coif that kept the princess' face half-hidden from his inquisitive gaze, the garb of a warrior, the whisper of strength and resilience that ghosts between metal shards and promises him resistance at every measure. they were never meant to find themselves at each other's side, and yet; destiny's thread wove anew. now, it was she who saw β the blood that maketh a man, spilling unceremoniously against unusually white skin that plants him in a world unlike her own. feyd-rautha was no god, though the arena would thunder timelessly with deific devotion for their most esteemed warrior, it did not make that statement untrue, and he was sharing the secret of his mortality as though days prior she'd not have wished him dead by her hand [by his own deliberation]. she could twine her fingers into his white flesh and wrench him apart. she doesn't.
βyou didn't have to do that.β feyd remarks quietly, as he studies the stretch of fresh-sealed skin. nothing feyd-rautha did had ever been quiet, actions booming with elaborate showmanship; but feyd was always measured in the release of his own voice, every word deliberate. he never talked for talking's sake, wielding both the power of speech and the abject nature of silence with equal mastery, the latter speaking far more in its omission than an abundance ever could. [that ability to temper was a gift of foresight, demonstrated clearly a superior intelligence to those that talk-talk-talked, such as the baron who stood in place before him, of whom could not rightfully discern the requirements of when to speak, and when to listen. perhaps himself and irulan were kin in that manner, masters of self-governance of which their mediation between worlds depended upon.] what is pointedly absent from his observation is that this is much below her station; both as a wife, and perhaps more importantly, as a monarch. a woman of her position would not be required to dirty herself in the mud and the blood, dousing her dress-sleeves in the indecencies of the harkonnen men. it was not their custom here, nor would it likely be elsewhere; feyd can only imagine the horror twisting shaddam's face as the princess spoils her skin with his blood, letting it soak and stain her palms in a manner that bleeds possession and ownership [him over her, or her over him?]. the dissonant notes of his voice leave much to be considered, but ultimately express that, as his betrothed and soon-to-be wife, she is not expected to perform such duties, to tend and to care as though her station is somewhere beneath him. he refuses to indulge himself with the idea that this could be an act borne out of own want. what lady would want to interfere in the happenings of warriors? what princess? his mind flickers back to their introduction, the stare fixed to his own expression through metal shutters; unblinking, unyielding. and then, feyd-rautha understands; she was a warrior in her own right, shedding the courtly life that resembled little more than a gilded cage into becoming, the hallmark tradition of sombre refinement left in kaitan like a corpse of a previous self. she was here, soaked in the blood of a new beginning, embracing all it had to offer in spite of the stain it left on her hands.
the future always seems to build upon remnants of the past, drawing out dormant memories and re-telling old stories with new characters. her mother had once used the scrapes and gashes of her adolescent younger sisters to instruct irulan for the future. bene gesserit are detached in the face of horrors, prepared at the sight of gore. blood, even that of rambunctious children, was never for blood's sake: it had purpose, a lesson, a use. anirul corrino was a better teacher than caretaker, irulan was a better student than daughter. the future builds on the past: stone-white flesh beneath her careful hands, red ochre seeping into the seam of her fingerprints. feyd-rautha [na-baron no more?] has given her an opportunity to be useful from inside this gilded cage, compliant and quiet as she all but forces his torn skin back together. her focus is strict, unwavering, exceedingly vigilant. the mind affects the reality. this is the teachings of the bene gesserit. . . the omnipotent hand at the back of her neck. irulan corrino, dutiful student, watchful protege, the bene gesserit's greatest mediocrity. keen eye, incessantly curious, and presently powerless.
the wound is not deep,Β only loud,Β spilling profusely.Β it's a cosmetic and impatient act to tend to him, ultimately unnecessary for his health; though, every time he had shifted,Β the slash re-opened.Β the people did not need to see him bleed, irulan had the necessary skills to stop the flow. it's a sensible, necessary mending. the future builds: painting across his abdomen are remnants of previous battles. valleys and gouges in his skin, raised streaks of scar tissue. her eyes sweep over these marks only once, cataloguing, understanding. she is no nurse, nor is she some sort of fanatic. there is no success or tragedy to be found in the angry twist of his former wounds, only a twisted narrative of survival and misplaced glory. her attentions do not linger: irulan is factual, carefully detached. her eyebrows lower in concentration, tongue pressing behind her teeth. the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest ought to be a gauge, a measure of pain, but he has shown no sign of the sort. surely his indifference is a symptom of some sort of conditioning, or perhaps lingering adrenaline dulled his senses to the sensations.
she glances up, considers the careful blankness of his features, blown out pupils fixated on his own skin. even when she looks back down to the task at hand, understanding the look stays at the forefront of her considerations. the hollow of his eyes beneath his brow, light splashing at the curved top of his cupids bow. this is a changing of the tides, feyd's blood staining her hands. [something in her is rattled at the warmth of it against her skin, at the reduction of the great warrior to a bleeding human man.] these are the only concessions they've ever made for eachother: he is still, unarmed, and she does not dig any further into his flesh than needed. his knife within reach and un-wielded, her hand gently prodding just below his ribs. irulan has never known him like this: not so physically bare, the skin which protects vital organs open to whatever potentially violent whim she might have, and not so unguarded. for the first time, there is not a blatant distrust between them; instead a sickening feeling of honesty. [distantly, she wants to drag out further proof of the humanity hidden beneath his serpentine exterior with her teeth.] instead, her hand retreats from the mended muscle, wiping excess paste from her fingertips on a piece of cloth, a faint wash of blood remaining on her skin. "this should not leave a scar."
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asoiaf: a dance with dragons starters
β i fear i make you uneasy. β
β knowledge is a weapon. arm yourself well before you ride forth to battle. β
β go on. show your steel. give me cause to do the same. β
β fear is what keeps a man alive in this world of treachery and deceit. β
β these woods are not as empty as you think. β
β promise me that you will never turn against me. i could not bear that. promise me. β
β the only time a man can be brave is when he is afraid. β
β if i must die, i will die with an axe in my hand and a curse upon my lips. β
β tales are told of you. i hear them everywhere. people fear you. β
β go too far down that road,Β andΒ mistrustΒ canΒ poisonΒ you,Β make you sour and fearful. β
β you mistake me. that was a command, not an offer. β
β sorcery is a sword without a hilt. there is no safe way to grasp it. β
β prophecy is like a half-trained mule. it looks like it might be useful, but the moment you trust in it, it kicks you in the head. β
β it is not the foes who curse you to your face that you must fear, but those who smile when you are looking and sharpen their knives when you turn your back. β
β i rose too high, loved too hard, dared too much. i tried to grasp a star, overreached, and fell. β
β they think that this will break my pride, that it will make an end to me, but they are wrong. β
β tell me of the things that make you happy, the things that make you giggle, all your sweetest memories. remind me that there is still good in the world. β
β one war ends, another begins. there is always someone fighting someone somewhere. β
β this is what i was made for. the dance, the sweet steel song, a sword in my hand and a foe before me. β
β my enemies have told you i am dead. those tales are false, as you can see. β
β not all that a man does is done for gain. β
β i know that you believe me weak, frightened, feeble. β
β it takes a man to rule. kill the boy, and let the man be born. β
β do you mean to spend your whole life running away? β
β kingdoms are at hazard here. our lives, our names, our honour. this is no game weβre playing for your amusement. β
β however gentle the words, there are always darker motives underneath. i do not trust you. β
β a good honest face, but you should smile more. β
β my throne is made of burned bones, and it rests on quicksand. β
β you are so radiant today i fear to look on you. β
β prove yourself more trouble than you are worth, and you can go your own way. β
β you need not look so pale, i was only playing with you. β
β this is not the day i die, i promise you. β
β i wanted you from the first time i saw you. β
β was i so blind, orΒ didΒ iΒ closeΒ myΒ eyesΒ willingly, so i would not see the price of power? β
β men should not go wandering in this place. β
β hold your tongue and do as you are told, or you will soon wish you had. β
β you wonβt try. you will obey. β
β kneel and live. or go and die. itβs your choice to make. β
β are you so blind, or is it that you do not wish to see? β
β that is not a place you want to go to. β
β i will not go back without doing what i came for, no matter how hopeless it may seem. β
β the fairest woman in this worldβ¦i am drunk with the sight of you. β
β secrets are worth more than silver and sapphires. β
β we have come too far to turn back now. β
β what have i done to make you hate me so? β
β you meet so few men who value friendship over gold these days. β
β it is true, i am a bolder man than most. β
β i cannot go home. but i dare not stay here much longer. β
β foes and false friends are all around me. β
β the fewer folk who will know of this, the better. β
β all you have i gave you. remember that. β
β will you make me say it twice? go and do as i commanded you. β
β love is madness, and lust is poison. β
β i feel safe when iβm with you. β
β have you no smile for me? am i as fearful as all that? β
β why did i ever allow myself to be talked into this farce? β
β donβt think i donβt see what youβre doing. β
β i will tell you nothing. do me the same favor. β
β if i look back i am lost. β
β a crown should not sit easy on the head. β
β we must show a little trust, you and i. β
β trust only your companions, and do your best to avoid attracting notice. β
β youβre not going to try to kill me again, i hope. β
β if you will forgive me for saying so, you lookβ¦weary. are you sleeping? β
β your clothes are stained with blood. take them off. β
β every fool loves to hear that heβs important. β
β my father used to tell me that a man must know his enemies. β
β you are a harmless creature, to be sure. as innocent as a lamb. β
β till then, let us drink and dream. β
β you will be tempted to betray me. to run or fight or join our foes. iβll not hear you deny it. β
β soon enough you may have grave need of me. do not refuse my friendship. β
β it is best that no man knows that you are here. β
β i kill kings, havenβt you heard? β
β should any ill befall you, this world would lose its savor. β
β some will look at you and see only another doomed pretender. β
β i think life is a jape. yours, mine, everyoneβs. β
β i will forgive those wordsβ¦once. but never presume to threaten me again. β
β your father would be so proud if he could see you. β
β just once you might try to give me an answer that would please me. β
β they love me well. none would betray me. β
β i have sins enough to answer for; iβll have no part of this one. β
β i mean you no harm, you know. β
β i do not trust you, but i need you. β
β weβll both sleep, and dream of sweeter days. close your eyes. β
β since you ask so nicely, how can i deny you? β
β no wine is half so intoxicating as your beauty. β
β why should i beg for what is owed me? β
β a lord may love the men he commands, but he cannot be a friend to them. β
β let them try and trouble us, weβll show them what weβre made of. β
β a leader should be feared, by friend and foe alike. if men think me cruel, so much the better. β
β the enemy of my friend is my enemy. β
β a book can be as dangerous as a sword in the right hands. β
β i am an old man, grown weary of this world and its treacheries. β
β these are desperate days, and like to grow more desperate. β
β we need to find shelter before nightfall. β
β there are footsteps behind us. we are being followed. β
β this is no common fog. it stinks of sorcery. β
β i am glad you came to me. it is good to see you again, my friend. β
β the man who does nothing also takes a risk. β
β the women are the strong ones. β
β afraid, are you? i would be if i were you. β
β tell me a tale. some tale of valor with a happy ending. β
β iβll have a cup of wine as well. to clear my head. β
β we may lose our heads, itβs trueβ¦but what if we prevail? β
β keep your swords sharp. weβll have us a real fight soon. β
β this is going to end badly. β
β what are you doing here? how did you get past my guards? β
β it is so hard. to be strong. i donβt always know what i should do. β
β let us instead speak of love, of dreams and desire. β
β you wound me, wandering off like this. have you grown tired of my hospitality so soon? β
β with this sword i defend my subjects and destroy those who menace them. β
β it is too late for such misgivings. you made your choice. β
β in times as confused as these, even men of honor must wonder where their duty lies. β
β why? what did i ever do to you? β
β we must be certain that we do not choose the losing side. β
β dream sweet dreams. there are no monsters here. β
β i know who you are. i know what you are. β
β a little honest loathing might be refreshing, like a tart wine after too much sweet. β
β a bloody sword is a beautiful thing. β
β a ruler belongs to their people, not to themself. β
β if the ones i killed come haunt me, i will kill them all again. β
β you shine so brightly, you will blind every man who dares look upon you. β
β a fair bargain leaves both sides unhappy, iβve heard it said. β
β thereβs blood on your hands, aye, same as mine. β
β i have done wicked things, i know, but i could not bear for you to hate me. β
β it is good to see you smiling again. β
β i have doubts enough without you throwing oil on the fire of my fear. β
β blood pays for blood, a life for a life. β
β go home, if that is what you want. i am staying. β
β a manβd think thereβs no trust between us. β
β i would choose freedom over comfort every time. β
β you are even lovelier than i was told. β
β stay. i do not wish to be alone. β
β treachery on treachery. is there no end to it? β
β dreams and prophecies. why must they always be in riddles? β
β one wrong word, and this could turn to blood in half a heartbeat. β
β you lie. i can see the truth in your eyes. β
β throw down your steel and stand aside, and no harm need come to you. β
β you are supposed to be my friend. why must you mock my hopes? β
β it is better to die with honor than to live without it. β
β it does no good to brood on lost battles and roads not taken. β
β i see you are deaf to sense. β
β you are no better than me. weβre just the same. β
β a man should never draw his sword unless he means to use it. β
β you kill men for the wrongs they have done, not the wrongs that they may do someday. β
β close your eyes. close your ears. turn away. you do not need to see this. β
β the sooner we are gone from this place, the better. β
β i am sorry my actions have displeased you. i did as i thought best. β
β you do not need to trust a man to use him. β
β if you cannot do this thing, you need only say so. there is no shame in that. β
β never wound a foe when you can kill him. dead men donβt claim vengeance. β
β this is what i wanted, what i worked for. so why does it taste so much like defeat? β
β honest men should never need to hide their faces. β
β i am not the trusting fool you take me for. β
β menβs lives have meaning, not their deaths. β
β heβs dead. he wonβt bite. β
β if this is the price for peace, i pay it willingly. β
β it makes me wonder whose side you are on. β
β dreams and prophecies. why must they always be in riddles? β
β i will not say that you are welcome. nor will i deny that i have hoped that you might come. β
β you have the eyes of a wolf and a taste for blood. β
β men are mad and gods are madder. β
β one war ends, another begins. there is always someone fighting someone somewhere. β
β not all risks lead to ruin. β
β is there some place with fewer eyes and ears? β
β i need you now as i have never needed you before. β
β tell me, is there any fight left in you? β
β it was the wind that you heard screaming. β
β crying? i was not crying. why would i cry? β
β are you some butcher of the battlefield, hacking down every man who stands in your way? β
β rain. a storm is coming. β
β that was simple. simpler than i dared hope. simpler than it should have been. β
β see that you do not speak of this. iβll not have this tale spread. β
β how could i be so blind for so long? β
β you had a bad dream, that was all. β
β are you prepared to defend that boast with sword or lance? β
β i will do it. i said i would. i will. β
β think that. believe that. tell yourself itβs true. β
β you have more enemies than you know. β
β i have no heart. i only have a hole. β
β it has been too long since iβve killed a man. β
β words are wind. words cannot harm me. β
β have you forgotten who i am? β
β too many good men died that day. β
β it is so good to see your face, your sweet face. β
β it is still not too late to abandon this folly. β
β i will not stay here to be insulted. β
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> @irulean β sender stitches up receiver's wound.
if irulan had never tended to someone like this before, an onlooker would not guess; her fingers moved with a strict precision and knowing dexterity that acted in accordance with how she lived, how she spoke, how she breathed [measured by the atom, conditioned to know it by mere feeling]. it was something that didn't go unnoticed by feyd-rautha, that pompous[?] propriety of outer worlds felt something like a slight on the draconian harkonnen wayβ a way to darken their image across the galaxy and gesture to their savagery, in a manner that platforms their civility and all-round betterment. among other worlds, feyd-rautha was nothing more than a weapon; a blunt tool without mind nor acumen, who only acted in blood. he feels their underestimation like a dull blade that continues cutting, breaking skin in that slow, malicious manner that demands to be felt. but if anything, feyd-rautha was a performer; concealing his intuition from even the princess until his voice could be heard across the cosmos, their knees would touch the ground in professions of mercy. for now, he was fine to play the savage; giving them everything they expected and more, purging his peripheries of those who dared defy him.
as she sutures the wound with paste, his attention flickers from her dignified hand [its slight golden hue in contrast to his pallor, as though her skin had been dipped in spice and desert sands] up, up towards the ornate detail of her dress sleeves; the florid stitching and beading that created an elaborate web to conceal much of her skin, but progressive enough to allow rays of gold to peek through still. the baron traces these intricacies like a path towards her collarbones, lingering on the hollow of her throat before finally finding the rigid locks that frame her jaw; never a millimetre out of place. feyd doesn't dare venture to touch the harsh lines of her face, unsure of the deception it might bring; she was bene gesserit, he'd had fragments of time stolen from beneath him by one that bore the same beginnings, awoken as that person, whom he did not wholly recognise, stepped out from his bed, an act committed but not remembered. he pushes the piecing of vacant space from his mind, stalls instead by the resplendent ends of fair locks, wondering for a short moment how they would feel between his fingers. [but when she notices him noticing, gaze returns to the self; discerning the paste lodged into his side that promises a blemish-free healing, unlike those that litter his back and sides. this insignificant blunder in battle was not something worth keeping, a mere slice between abdominals that seem to contract with every small touch they exchange. as though indecent, forbidden.] it is the most intimate they had ever been, emotionally and physically; the togetherness in mending, her deft fingers ghosting across his blood-soaked skin is somehow worth something more than had ever been previously shared, as though this moment is as honest as things could be between them. it felt vulnerable, and yet the venomous barbs that drowse beneath his flesh do not stir at this painstaking unfamiliarity, but still as though comforted; the knife at their side glimmered for attention beneath the harsh light of his chambers, but remained untouched.
#breaking news: man suffering from adrenaline and blood loss thinks he might be starting to fancy his wife? betrothed? one of them#sa mention tw#just in case#irulean#anyway im insane#imagine writing this much and no dialogue
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all that triple flipping just for him to fall on his ass a second laterππ
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