Slowburn | Enemies to lovers | dark romance | false prophets | Space Opera | triangle | strong femme characters | eventual Romance | Eventual smut |
A desperate Baron.
A yearning Duke.
A woman who weaves destruction with an army of fire.
In the m...
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The planet of Grummon. Homeworld of the Moritani. Base of the Galician army.
The princeling didn't come home. Lost princelings in the wilds of a planet that harbored more predators than most, was not a good omen. His parents hadn't noticed he had gone missing until the sky burned at dawn and dinner cooled on his sanctioned plate in the dining hall. They didn't notice until well after the stone elephants would have crept from their caverns, breakbats had flown in search of lifeblood and mooncats sauntered from the highest peaks.
The moment his absence had been noted, all fury broke loose from Moss Moritani. Pilots took flight from the ramparts. Ornithopters, single seaters and land surveyors. They charged into the expanse with headlights ablaze and engines kicking gravel. The sound of a roaring fleet resounded over the palace walls and shook dust too high to be swept from the rafters.
Hawk sat on the floor of the throne room on a cushion and watched Moss's leg bounce with trepidation. The Moritani general sat beside her, as well as the mentat and two others that held some useless titles that Hawk wasn't sure existed in any other court.
"Of all days," Moss sighed into his knuckle. The M on his signet ring was the same emerald as the one around Hawk's neck. He bit it, as if cracking his teeth would ease the anxiety.
The Harkonnens had sent a very direct message, signed by the emperor. The contents of which aimed to rile Moss to no end. A Harkonnen emissary was to touch down on Grummon and keep watch over the Galician army to ensure they were not treated as prisoners.
It didn't make much sense when one considered the inherent cruelty of the Harkonenns. They were the last beings that should keep watch over anyone. Moss found it as a slight against his capabilities as a ruler. Collette voiced that there were darker forces at work and they should tread carefully.
Hawk had approached her men, told them of the new deal and listened while they laughed until their stomachs ached. Their hatred of the Harkonnen's was stronger than even that of Corrino or Moritani houses. Repeated threats to eat the emissary had bounded over the barracks.
The duchess sat cross legged on her own cushion in front Hawk and counted out the seeing cards. She wore a dark shroud over her head, already braced for a funeral. It seemed a bit preemptive to start mourning. The princeling may not have been resilient, but he had an entire fleet on the hunt for him.
Collette flipped her seeing cards while whispering a question Hawk couldn't hear. She slapped one down and turned it. The photo depicted a hanged man and was named after such. It didn't look like a positive image, but Collette raised her chin with a sigh of relief.
"What does it mean?" Hawk asked.
"That something will be witnessed," she said.
Witnessed, Hawk noted, not found. Those were two very different outcomes. For the sake of the princeling, she hoped it was the latter.
