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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Everyone wanted something. Yet, Hawk couldn't bring herself to care about want beyond the present, unless there was a pressing urgency. Even then, it waned and broke, every facet of existence too far out reach to grasp unless she was stood directly in front of it.
It was much easier to assume what others hoped for.
Moss Moritani wanted to keep his new army. He wanted a son that would rule defiantly once he had grown old enough to take the helm. Moss ached to sit at the throne of a house that was not a second thought when compared to the greater order. The yearning was evident in the way he stared into his cup of wine before sourly placing it back on the table. In the way he clutched his dinner fork and made a victim of the slab of rams meat.
"How are you enjoying your time on Grummon?" Moss asked Feyd Rautha. It was posed with pleasantry, but Hawk knew that Moss truly wanted to ask; when are you leaving?
Feyd Rautha plucked gooseberries from the serving tray and popped them into his mouth. It was a boyish action, one that showed his true youth. Hawk would occasionally look at him and think he was older than the sky itself. That he had been carved of the original sin and made to venture the galaxy wreaking havoc for all of eternity.
It was unnatural to watch him pick at his dinner like a spoiled child. Then again, they all were in some way, spoiled, yearning, filled with ache.
Hawk pushed her own berries around the plate and wished them to be comets that shown the true path forward.
"We won't stay much longer," Feyd said. "Where is your son?"
"He's ill," Collette intervened with folded hands to her lap. She was still wearing the mourning shroud. It made her look older than she was, more delicate and easily corruptible. "Poor thing hasn't been able to keep anything down."
Rabban sighed, "there's a remedy for that." The elder brother did not wear cruelty as Feyd did. No matter how hard he tried. His soft eyes flittered over the serving girls with a gaze that didn't make them look like future martyrs.
"And what's that?" Collette asked in a sullen tone.
"Raw charcoal, three times per day," he said.
"I'll have to remember that. Thank you," Collette said.
Hawk eyed Rabban down and wondered what he wanted. An army didn't seem as if it would fulfill his fancies. A show of pride from his younger brother would. But, that was about as likely as a mooncat wandering into the palace and declaring itself a pet.
"Are you not hungry?" Oliver whispered.
Hawk responded by pushing her plate toward him. There was plenty on the serving platters yet he was happy to pluck her untouched berries. The sweet scent had gotten to her once more. It reminded her of the minerals that clung to Feyd's skin.
